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@wingboundwarrior
Hello, and welcome to Fiora’s blog! Write a letter to your sisters, brush your pegasus’ hair, and drink some tea. Let me know if you need anything at any time, and I hope to write with you soon! I’m also in the TOA Discord, so come say hi! Feel free to DM me if you need anything! about and stats | general information | interview | thread tracker | ball tracker Sidebar art, used with permission, by @_Saber7
Rose For Your Thoughts
↳ Fiora & Eliwood TOA Ethereal Ball 2026
The struggle of her emotions is clear across her face. He wishes he could provide a steady hand for her to hold, but though they've spoken he believes that would be far too forward. Instead, he waits, he gives her space, and when she's ready, he listens attentively.
"Florina is a kind soul and she cares a great deal for you, of that i have no doubt. She would want you to be happy."
Eliwood pulls free a handkerchief and offers it to her. "I do not know why you think of yourself this way. You are an honorable woman who I would trust with my life and I wish nothing but the truest happiness for you. Are you not happy here, Fiora?"
It would be rude, Fiora feels, to turn down the handkerchief offered to her. Completely impolite. So though she has no plan to cry before him, she takes the soft fabric in her hands, and stares at it, stares at the bits of assistance he's offering up, he's surrendering before her.
He needn't do this -- any of this. Encourage her, stand here before her, attempt to be there for her. She doesn't deserve it. After all the things she has done... all the people she has failed...
(In her mind's eye, she can see her; Lyra, standing tall before her, blood streaming down her face from her scalp, smile fixed on her lips...)
"Do you remember, Lord Eliwood? How you found me?" The longer she looks at the handkerchief, the more bloodstained it becomes. "I had just lost my Wing... my failure." A stone solidifies in her throat, as the ground swallows her whole. Untethered, she forces words out. "After we departed... I created my own company. And I lost them all again. I couldn't face them... Ilia... My sisters... So I ran." Her fingers tighten on the cloth, molars grit. "I'm not sure a person like me has the right to be happy..."
The Water is Way Too Deep, The Deep End is Where I Live
↳ Bruno & Fiora Lance+1
"Fiora," he echoes. A Knight on patrol — it seems, truly, that the Knights never know when to rest, do they? A small smile flickers on Bruno's face as he takes note of the familiarity. "I see. I myself am faculty here with the Blue Lions."
His boat takes an open spot on the dock, and Bruno lifts himself onto land. His legs are unsteady when he returns back to his feet, but his oar keeps his weight stable. One step, then two (and a nod to the dock master, who grumbles something under his breath), and he makes his way back to his belongings stacked neatly in a pile.
"I imagine teaching is far less eventful than what the Knights do on a daily basis." He laughs, kneeling. "The Knights of Seiros, I've heard, are quite dedicated to the student body — as demonstrated by yourself." The sound of clanking metal fills the air as he takes his armor from the pile — it's quite heavy for the boat, he thinks, but it might be better practice for him in the end.
A hum, soft as he clips his armor on. "Were your duties in Ilia just like this, too?" Eventful?
Just like this? She cants her head, attempting to figure out in what way he could possibly mean his question. "Not... quite," she confesses. "I am more or less a guard, now... but my prior work was the life of a mercenary. My wing and I would be hired for contracts and be sent to do work..."
She falls quiet. It's hard, of course, to talk more in-depth about her wing, without the grief souring her memories...
A gentle smile presses against the lines of her face, as real as she can manage it. "I hear that being a teacher brings its own joys, yes? What do you teach?"
Do You Believe in Love?
↳ Fiora & Seadall Epidemic Gauntlet+1
Ah… Seadall feels his own expression widen in response. Something that can’t be helped, lashes shivering as he studies the person in front of him. Fiora. Lacking any other explanation, he might even say that her earnestness, the simple lilt of affection that softens her voice when talking about a special someone disarms him.
Especially as she turns to address him fully and her being lacks that same softness.
Is it always so compelling to see someone in love? He can’t answer that.
“Nothing as glamorous as your reason, I assure you.” The chocolates ahead of them seem to mock him. “I’m afraid I’ve only come to understand the artform, the beauty of creation…I don’t have anyone who’s waiting on such a gift from me.” Even if they were, wouldn’t anyone who truly knew him think that sweets was an odd gift, coming from him?
Maybe something savory…but even this would be too much. “If I gifted someone chocolates, they’d certainly laugh. It would be…a joke. But you! To think that someone’s love might eclipse your own…” A shake of his head accompanies the words. “You sound like you wish for it - is that what you want? Truly? I have heard that love can be a heavy burden,” An understatement, but Seadall doesn’t need to be a fortuneteller here. “Some feel lighter when they’re rid of it.”
Glamorous... Is it, truly? Ever since she started mulling on such things, she'd always thought feeling was a weakness. Even if it was one she would, at times, indulge in -- like that for her beloved sisters -- she always innately understood that she would be stronger if she could get rid of the sentimentality that dragged her down. But Seadall seems to insinuate her feelings are a boon... and that they even border on love.
Could they be? Love? Could that be what she's feeling, what she's harboring, what's in her mouth and fingers and soul when she thinks of Soren?
"Of course it's what I wish for." It tastes bitter, those words -- they're a little like ash, a little rough, the way they cling to her throat. "I want what is best for him. And I can recognize that that is not me."
She wonders what the person that is best for him is like. How they would speak to him. Regard him. Care for him.
"... Why would it be a joke?" Fiora's aquamarine lashes flutter in confusion. "For you to give chocolates to someone... I don't believe I understand."
hurt/comfort
boel2026 || cont. from -> ⚔️
She does it again!
Every mistake soren makes, however received, is met by Fiora’s sturdy arms and Her mustering every power within Her to become his rock. How can he continue to allow this? She’s hurt! They need to find a solution that doesn’t hurt Her any more; to allow her to heal just like any other. It’s what She deserves, dammit!
But the boiling emotions between them once again climb up his throat and threaten to choke him. he curses, voice low and strained by the emotion threatening to once again break his dam. he can’t let Her keep doing this to him. he wants to - they should be equals in this!
“Fiora,” he attempts, but his voice cracks as though - (well, he actually hasn’t aged much in the last ten years). “Stop. Stop.”
he says the word, but if anything, his arms receive her as she moves closer, removing his fingers from the sharp pain he’d tried inflicting at the back of his scalp mere seconds prior. “S-stop. You don’t have to -”
soren gasps.
“You don’t have to pretend anything -”
You don’t have to be strong. You don’t have to hide every feeling. You don’t have to make me feel as though it’s not my fault.
he swears again, but stifles his voice in her chest, hoping it will help him keep his own emotions together.
His voice, raw and broken and fraying, cuts through her as cleanly as any axe could. He begs her to stop and everything in her agrees; she wishes she could sink to her knees before him, honestly profess the depths of her pain, and...
... ... And what? Be held? Be coddled, like a child? No... She can do this. She can be his support. She knows she can. She doesn't need anything. She's never taken anything from anyone, and she's not about to start here, and now, in front of Soren, who is suffering so badly from what he feels is his error, but is truly hers.
"It's all right," she reminds, softly, a hand moving to find purchase in his hair, but -- she catches sight of it, and finds that it, and the rest of her body, is trembling. Horror fills her. What? Why? Why! She can do this, can't she? Can't she hold it together for him? Just a little longer... Then she can rest all she want, when she's alone, and no one can see her...
Every thread of her body feels too tight -- strung and set on fire. Even her own breath hurts, ricocheting through her body. Fiora grits her teeth, focusing on attempting to stop shivering. She needs to staunch this. Just for a little longer...
The hand that'd meant to hold Soren's hair goes back to his back, pulling him closer. Part of her hates that it almost helps, to have someone to hold as her body breaks in on itself.
A Dance Won’t Kill You
continued from here
Legault does as he’s told and leans forward instead—a rogue can be obedient, when he wishes to. His smile softens, the only crookedness left in it an unavoidable side effect of the scarring that pulls at his skin.
“Aw...you do care.”
He slides from his perch, leaning his hip against the rail of the balcony instead. The strings inside the ballroom sing a lilting, playful little tune.
“Try not to get your heart racing about me too often. You have enough stress in your life, friend.”
Her eyes are so tired and mournful. They don’t suit her pretty features, and they certainly don’t suit what’s supposed to be a celebration. He offers her a hand once more.
“Want an escort to the refreshments table? I’d bet some mulled wine could make the world feel a little sweeter, if you’d like.”
It's a joke, what he says, about her caring. She knows it is, and he knows it is. Despite the frosty exterior she attempts to maintain, the arms-length she holds all others from her, this night if nothing else has proven to him how easily she nicks and bleeds. Even in their first meeting he had seen the fleshy shell of her, beneath the steel of her armor. He knows.
At the end of the day, really, there's no reason to belabor the point of her love for him. Even if he knew it in clearer shape, it wouldn't change anything about the way he lives his life. Legault is a free spirit. All she is is a chain.
"Have you forgotten I'm here tonight as a guard? I have no plans to get wasted on the job, Legault." She pulls away from the balcony edge herself, attempts to slot shattered pieces of her mind back into place. "In fact, I have been away from my post too long, as lovely as it is to see you."
Night at the Opera
↳ Fiora & Soren TOA Etheral Ball
Fiora takes the reins, as soren requested, and directs them to the device that mimics what soren first knew as a camera. She doesn't have the same experience with such a contraption as he has, so it's little surprise that She seems confused, though intrigued, by its existence.
he remembers the little cards, printed out immediately, with his face and two others. Three copies to be shared. It's gone now, as that entire reflection is, but the idea of it is…
perfect, now that he considers it.
soren means to remain at Fiora's side, he believes, for as long as he is able. That will be to the end of Her life, if he is not successful, and he will have so much time to spend in pursuit of a death afterwards.
If there is a photo, he can keep it. he can keep a tiny Fiora, permanently happy and smiling, beautiful, fresh faced, and at soren's side forever.
“Yes,” he exhales.
he looks down at the bouquet in his hands. It's nice to have something to hold onto, when one feels complicated feelings. "i have seen something similar before… but it had little to do with magic. It was in that mission, some months ago, with the mirrors."
That mission...
Some months ago, when many of the faculty of the monastery had split up and gone on various missions, Fiora had stayed behind to guard the monastery in the interim. She had actually ended up getting quite injured by a thief she'd run into in the woods, and had nursed a horrible injury in her side for quite some time -- until she'd coincidentally ran into Lord Hector, who had noticed and called her out on it. Soren doesn't know any of that, but nor does she know anything about his mission into the mirrors. "That is fascinating," is what slips out of her lips as the line moves. "You will have to tell me more about that mission, if you wish, one day... I cannot imagine how such a thing can work without magic..."
But that is Fiora. She hates being ignorant, but her mind can hardly process the concepts of magic. She has long since accepted that such things are not for her to worry about. She is just a simple lance-arm -- she will go where she is willed, fight as she is told, and that is all there is to that.
Finally, they are at the front of the line. Fiora leads, her hand still around Soren's, until they are situated between the device and the backdrop. It occurs to her in this moment that Fiora has never had her portrait taken for anything, and, of course not, for what would she need her portrait taken for -- who would ever need to remember her, a simple foot soldier, at the end of it all? Perhaps she should have watched the previous party-goers, and how they were doing their portraits...
She's saved by the person operating the strange device. "Look here, both of you, and smile! On three!"
In the three seconds she has, she presses herself against Soren's right side, smiles her customarily soft smile, and then is blinded by lightning. A few blinks dispels the light from her eyes, and they're waved through and given two small portraits, slightly glossy and a little thicker than paper.
Fiora's amazed. Her eyes shimmer with fascination as she holds her copy, staring down at them, tiny. Is this really what I look like?...
Either way, it's quickly deposited into her coat pocket.
May 2026
Status: Passed! Skill Points Gained: 2
Activity ➜ +1 Thread dropped: Nice To Meet You! I'm Bad At Everything ➜ +1 Sword
Skill Changes:
Flying - B+ (1/2) ➜ B+ (2/2) Sword - B (1/2) ➜ B (2/2)
Gained/Obtained:
Sleigh Bell Halter (from Ethereal Ball)
Housekeeping
Happy post-ball, everyone! I have replied to almost everything ball-related. I hope everyone had a wonderful event. I am happy to continue ball things past the end of the event, but will understand if they are not continued on my partner's end. Just let me know if I have you down for a continuation and you'd rather not.
My 'Current Thoughts' on Fiora and Serra will be edited post-haste! I'd like some ball threads to shake out a little more before I poke them too hard.
I have finally cleaned up threads on both Serra and Fiora. Their thread trackers are up to date and linked on their blogs, but I decided to do a little @ list below just to check in with partners and let them know what I have them down for, just in case! (Forgive me for all the @/s, everyone...) If you'd like to drop something, feel free to let me know, no hard feelings. 💖 If you should be here and aren't, as well, let me know! Serra's post is incoming.
As you may be able to guess, I'm probably not going to be picking up anything new on Fiora for a bit 😅
Find what's what below the cut...
Take time to heal
Huh?
Her?
What?
Huh?
She looks back at Fiora, wide-eyed with far too much anxiety for something this silly.
"I - i am unsure if I could make a good pick."
she says, but the cat is nuzzling her further, clearly content with her presence.
"If I had to pick something, well, Ulster comes to mind. It's where I lived for a few years but also a boy's name back in Jugdral.
Maybe I just think it's cute?
Ah, forget I said anything."
She shrinks back as if the issue was anything but the machinations of her mind.
Tine may mumble and stutter, but Fiora smiles widely, instead. "I think that is a beautiful name, Tine... Ulster." She tastes it on her tongue, carefully, like tasting a delicacy. Yes... Ulster is a lovely name. There's no sadness in Fiora's simper, for a rare moment -- only joy. "I think it suits him. Don't you?"
It's idle flattery; she knows that all the dame's words are just in service of easing Tine's solemn mood.
So she smiles, no beams at her.
Insincere, just a reassurance, a sign she's allowed to give up.
If Tine can lie again, that means that she is doing better.
She casts her eyes down towards the cat.
A glimmer in her eyes, a genuine joy.
"Thank you"
thread end.
Rose For Your Thoughts
↳ Fiora & Eliwood TOA Ethereal Ball 2026
@of-pherae, continued from here:
Eliwood believes he has the hang of this device now. He's been assisting with taking photos of others, to let friends and lovers pose together so that they can hold onto a memory that will last a lifetime. He's hardly phased when he's bumped into but as he turns, he finds himself met with another familiar face. How many old friends will he meet tonight? Yet Fiora looks as if she's ready to break into a million pieces. He sets aside the photo-artifex and moves toward her. "Fiora, I am pleased to see you again as well, but..." he accepts her rose and in return offers one of his own, "please, tell me what's wrong. If I can help, then let me do so. I hate to see you like this." He places a gentle hand on her shoulder and urges her to rise from her bow. "You look radiant tonight. Such sorrow does not suit you."
... So he does recognize her. He remembers her. Why does that almost make her... a little glad?
Carefully, he encourages her to stand tall, and she does, tentative, a sad, weak smile twisting the sides of her lips. Her eyes are still sorrowful, plaintive -- she focuses them on the rose he exchanges with her.
(She hates herself. That she is being so weak. That she still lets herself fold and falter in front of the people she cares about. She feels it eat her from the inside out, rotting anything warm and living away.)
Fiora shakes her head. She knows if she speaks, he'll be able to hear the emotion in her voice, and she isn't sure she wants to inflict that upon him. When she smiles again, the rose in her hand blurs before her eyes.
(She presses her thumb on a thorn.)
Such sorrow does not suit you... Hah. Does he really believe that? Lord Eliwood has always had such fanciful ideas that she couldn't herself buy, couldn't follow. Her eyes close for a moment. She attempts to breathe through the emotion, the anxiety she feels seizing upon her heart. If she speaks now, she might break, and he might be cut by the shards.
A few breaths. Her thumb moves off the thorn. She's in control.
"I was thinking of Florina," she tells him, softly -- for that is the only way to keep her voice measured. Does he remember Florina? She was always so terrified of men, after all... "What a horrible example I turned out to be, for both of my sisters. What a horrible person I really am..."
[ SLIP UP ] "...?" Nanna gasped, her heels tip-tapping to check on the young woman from behind. "...!"
"Oh! I have been seeing many old companions lately, I thought..." Clarity rang clear in her eyes. "..." She flushed.
"Pardon me! Where are my manners..." Nanna's hand flicked to her bouquet, twirling her wrist to reveal an orchid. "My name is Princess Nanna of Nordion, and while you are not Selphina, I'd love to be acquainted."
"Do you... also happen to be an older sister?"
It is not often Fiora is mistaken for someone else. The hue of her hair is... well, it's quite distinctive. Even rarer than Lord Eliwood's red, or other shades of blue she's seen -- a color so individual, she'd often get glances, at a small child.
The thought of looking like someone this person knew is enough to fascinate her... At least, for a short time. When the rest of her words register, however...
Immediately, Fiora sinks herself into a bow, orchid still yet unclaimed. "Ah... what a pleasure, your... highness."
That's what one referred to princesses as, yes? Highness? Fiora has never been consciously in the presence of one, but she believes that's what a prince is called, so... it must be the same, yes?
"My name is Fiora... I am a pegasus knight, working with the Knights of Seiros. I... I am an older sister. How... did you know?"
[ PHOTO-ARTIFEX ] - The ever-popular photo-artifex makes its annual return, allowing users to capture pictures in as little as a flash of light and a moment. Take home something to remember the event by!
Fiora is still lingering around the photo artifex, staring at her red bouquet splotched with a single white crescent, thinking of her littlest sister, the ray of sunlight in her life. How disappointed would that soft-hearted girl be, if she could see what had become of her stalwart sister, who she had turned into? What would Florina think if she knew that Fiora was the sort of person who had drowned in failure -- so much so that she ran away from all of Elibe? So much so that she left missions unfinished, families unhelped? What was she doing, here? Playing pretend with Soren, in glittering, fanciful light hung around them... when there were people back in Ilia starving because of her...?
Her eyes are glassy, the start of angry, bitter tears she'll refuse to cry here, when she trods straight into--...
"F--forgive me, sir." A deep bow... But she does a double take at that fiery hair, and those kind eyes that sit beneath it. "M... my lord?"
Lord Hector hadn't recognized her. It's more than likely Lord Eliwood will not, either. Who is she to the life of a lord? But where Lord Hector and she had known each other in passing, she and Lord Eliwood... had spoken.
We are equals, fighting together for a common cause.
Equals... Maybe he had believed it back then, but if he knew the sort of person she was now...
Hoping he cannot see the sorrow in her eyes, she pulls one of her roses from the bouquet and offers it to him, sinking again into a bow.
"It is... good to see you, my lord."
[ STEAL ] - Purposeful or not, it looks like you’ve gotten your hands on something that isn’t yours. You may want to return that before anyone notices. Or you may want to start running.
"I was planning on returning it," Sara says in defense of herself, surrendering the bouquet to its rightful owner and picking up her own once more. The proof to support that claim can be seen in the extra flower that has been slipped inside, an additition rather than a subtraction. "In my opinion, your bouquet looked lonely."
The entire night, the only thing Fiora has been paying attention to has been Soren. She had come to this ball with the singular goal of enchanting the person by her side and, thus far, their night had been going well. In fact, Fiora had been so razor-focused, she had even relieved herself of her bouquet at the first opportunity she had gotten: red roses deposited near a table by the photo artifex. Thus, when the evening passes her by that same table, this time for the moment without Soren, she's surprised to see a head of orchid hair and her own flowers.
For a moment, her breath catches in her throat. This girl is not her littlest sister. From the stern bend of her face to the texture of her hair, it is evident -- this person is someone else entirely. But the color is so similar, for a moment, just a moment, she was... reminded...
She's dazed, accepting her blooms back. A lily is nestled in among her flowers, but all she can do is stare at this girl who is most certainly not Florina.
"Thank you..." She's trying to right herself -- this night is not about her, or her memories, or her longing, but... She wonders, to herself... what it would be like if Florina were here.
A hand folds over her chest, and she inclines her head. "Have a good night, miss."
Hello all! I have bolded Fiora’s name and decided last minute to throw her into the fray… Feel free to send some things her way if y’all wish! I will be sending some asks out soon!!
Night at the Opera
↳ Fiora & Soren TOA Etheral Ball
There is some spark between them, suddenly, that is completely undeniable. Somehow, the brief touch of his fingers to Her hair is enough to see Her swell with fondness, and it's almost overwhelming. How can She care so much for him? How can something so simple mean so much to Her?
he doesn't understand it one bit, but he finds himself wanting to.
That She should want so thoroughly to cherish him -
and what does that word mean? he has no reference point! Is ‘cherish’ what it's called when he places a flower in Her hair?
he knows his face feels very hot, and he knows he likes the warmth of Her fingers around his. In this moment, those two facts are almost all that he's certain of.
A third thing presents itself: he does not want Her to know how severely alien he is to this situation.
he doesn't know how wide his smile is when he finally answers her, “i believe i would like you to… show me precisely what You mean. The way You speak implies you're nowhere near the stranger to these events that i am… If that is… alright with You.”
Nowhere near the stranger to these events... For a moment, she considers correcting him, but the truth rams its detestable head into her chest, double-time. She recalls being with Legault at the ball last year, at how much of it afterwards she spent wiping her wet eyelashes after their few minutes on the dance floor. Despite how blissful these past few months have been, Lyra is not gone. She has not forgotten her, nor any of her wingmates, and though she's sure Soren is vaguely aware that she's a failed pegasus knight, he doesn't know the depths of her failure. Tonight is not the night to unveil such a thing. Not when she's meant to bring him to heights he could never feel on his own. Whatever wretched, broken thing she is-- he doesn't need to know of that, or feel it. He needn't see it.
"Of course it is," she says, smile never moving, despite the flicker over the candle of her heart, and she leads him, a thumb passing gently across the soft skin of his hand, towards their closest thing -- this... artifact... whatever-it-is-called. In preparation for this event, she had helped with setting up, and had learned of this instant portrait maker. She was not sure how it captured images with just a flash of light, but she was given the explanation of "magic" -- and that was really all it took to quiet her, in general. She knew nothing about magic.
But Soren does. She casts a dark blue gaze back at him. The line at the moment is short -- it should only be moment before they can be situated in front of the strange little thing and get their tiny portraits. "Have you tried this before? This is a portrait maker. I am told when you get your portraits done, it takes only moments, and they come out dry. It is done with some form of magic... Would you like to try?"
As she speaks and walks with him, she shirks her bouquet on a nearby table.
After, all, there's only one person she's interested in spending any time with tonight.
Night at the Opera
↳ Fiora & Soren TOA Etheral Ball
The night of your dreams, She says, as She recreates the selfsame pose She'd used when She asked him to accompany Her to this night.
A problem: he's never dreamed of nights like these.
he doesn't get it. he understands, to some, there is a romanticism, but all soren sees is the groupings of people and the chatter and the propriety. All soren can see is the list of rules people adhere to; the fact that he doesn't know how to dance; and…
and he can see Fiora. She beams at him radiantly, and looks upon him with a warmth soren can scarcely believe is directed towards him.
he takes her flower and tucks it into the bouquet - a single red rose, bloody and proud in the center of white orchids.
“Excuse me,” he murmurs. he pulls one of the orchids from the bunch to tuck behind Her ear, using Her ribbon as a way to hold it in Her hair. he doesn't want to upset Her hairdo, but he's reminded of the time She'd been given a crown of blooms to wear, and how nicely it complimented her complexion.
“i suppose this is a way to match in itself,” he considers. “But… i should say i'm not sure… what you mean. i've never…”
he glances away, embarrassed, because he has not met Her expectations. “i'm uncertain how You mean to turn this into the so-called night of my dreams. i'd thought i was humoring You.”
The only way to describe even the briefest brush of his fingers against her hair is electric, something unexpected, beautiful, stark and sudden in the sky, something she wants and longs for more of -- but there will be time, oh, there will be plenty of time. They have the whole night to wile away to their most wild and dedicated fantasies...
That is, of course, what she thinks until she hears his further assertion.
Humoring her?
Surprise colors her face, a fresh sunrise over a tundra -- then a short laugh! "Humoring...?" she repeats, joyful... that he would, that he did. What a beautiful person he is, truly... "Didn't I tell you before, Soren? I believe you deserve beautiful things. That you deserve to be cherished, and taken care of. I see wonderful people be cherished on these sorts of nights every time I am posted at them..."
As she rises from the ground, she takes a hand of his -- gently, enough that he could easily shake her off, if he so wishes. "We can engage with the festivities as much as you wish. We can dance, we can eat, or we can go somewhere more private. Or... all of the above. It is whatever you wish."
A smile warms the corners of her face, dares at blotching her cheeks.
