ѕтяєиgтн

give me life give me blood give me strength dep. Cherche of FE XIII

[fe-aesthetics]

It’s kind of you to check on me, but I’m sure you’re busy. Stop by and chat when you’ve got more time.

Cherche, Wyvern Friend

x x x x o x x x x

[lynarc]

Another attempt at the FE:3H style

This time Cherche

[wyvern-rider]

little friend ꕥ

      There was no doubt the rumors had spread quickly throughout the monastery, despite how quietly Cherche had tried to slip into the academy’s walls.

            ‘ A beautiful rider has come to Garreg Mach. ’    ‘ I heard she has a son enrolled here... ’              ‘ I heard she once fought in a war...! ’     ‘ I saw her come in with a scary wyvern! I hope it doesn’t run loose! ’

      Although rumors have been nothing but brushed aside by Cherche, she can’t seem to turn a corner without someone whispering behind her back. It’s strange to compare the formalities of strangers of one country versus another. In Valm, everyone minded their own; this is not the case here. Then again, most of the people who attend the academy are either very young, cooped up or plain bored to the point where rumors were the only amusing thing to start.

      And that’s where Cherche has to find some reprieve. Within the glassy walls of the greenhouse, the former vassal can find some peace and quiet to be had. The scent of freshly watered flowers and the inviting breeze from the open windows, is nothing short of relaxing. Here she can sit back and assist the flower tender with nurturing the flora. And to much of Cherche’s delight, some of the fauna as well. Garden snails, ladybugs and other harmless critters find their way to rest on the broader leaved plants. Cherche brushes a finger over one of said snails, tracing the pad of her finger over the swirl-like design on its shell. So adorable...!

      In the middle of her own fixation, inside her tiny world of peace, she barely notices when someone brushes beside her. Rosy colored eyes turn to glance to the stranger... more so, the stranger’s shoulder. Tiny, fuzzy and absolutely the cutest little spider Cherche might have ever seen, seems to be relaxing on said stranger’s shoulder.

      “Don’t move, please. You have a Thomisidae resting on you.” She turns from her crouched position, coming closer to cup her hands over said spider, keeping her fingers clasped together so it doesn’t escape. Her hands only open again, showing the stranger the tiny arachnid that had hitched a ride on its host.

      “Look how sweet it is! Those little fangs are positively too cute!”

open!

[wyvern-rider]

𝔹𝕒𝕓𝕪 𝔹𝕠𝕪 🎀

There was a rumor around the monastery about the arrival of a beautiful foreign wyvern rider. Word of a another black wyvern joining the stables of course reached his ears too, the two pieces of information closely tied together. He’s certain somewhere in the world there are multiple black wyverns with attractive riders beside them – although the ones he knows reign supreme. Still, he can’t shake off the feeling he should look into this rumor some more.

That meant asking around about it, which could lead to misinterpretations, inquiries, or much worse: small talk.

Gerome opted out, and decided to just pay Minerva a visit, perhaps get some insight. It couldn’t have possibly been her. She’s all the way back in Roseanne, too busy with assisting the Duke.

He thinks this, yet the moment he arrives at the stables, he’s greeted by two familiar cries, and a delighted smile that can melt down all the snow in the monastery.

Mother–

No.

“Cherche.” He starts, the name said as stoically as can be. It was either to converse through letters rather than spoken words. You can spend hours upon hours formulating a well-thought out letter, but when in a conversation? Bah– he’d rather fight the Risen again.

“…you should have informed me of your arrival.” Would it have made a difference? Most likely not. He’d just be more anxious as he waited for her arrival. His mother in return looked so happy to see him, he immediately felt like crying. Not that he ever would– he had brilliant self control – but it was so unfair… her affection towards him was something he always wanted growing up. Receiving it from someone who was her, and at the same time not, conflicted him.

There was no denying how frustrating it must be to hide what you know, and pretend they don’t matter… and it’s even harder to accept come the day they make a family of their own, there’s a possibility he may not be included in it anymore.

The Gerome of this time is lucky, he thinks. He can have what he never could.

The conflicting part is, sometimes, selfishness wins and he thinks, the Gerome of this time isn’t here yet.

So until then, he’ll take care of their Cherche, as if she were his own…

As if reading his thoughts – they weren’t that hard to read, expressionless it may be. It was too obvious he was just overthinking – his Minerva lets out a cry towards Gerome, calling him silly, of all things. The wyern nudges the rider towards their mother, like an old friend that wanted nothing more but to further embarrass the other. Gerome’s pale features instantly flush red, and he turns sharply towards the culprit.

“What has gotten into you, Minerva! Stop that– I said stop” He’s still being nudged. “I apologize for her behavior, Mother! She’s normally not like this. It must be the cold–” Wait. Damn it. Damn it. He clears his throat and ‘subtly’ corrects himself. “–Cherche.”

      Despite the front Gerome always put up as the stoic and cold soldier, Cherche has to wonder how a child of hers became so shy. Yes, she believed this front was purely out of the fear of not wanting to socialize with the public. It’s childish but Cherche couldn’t reprimand Gerome-- not after everything he’s been through. It’s a sole promise on Cherche’s part that she can change this anxious demeanor... somehow.

      There’s a quiet giggle from Cherche, coming forward to brush her hand over the much older wyvern, “There, there. Let’s not bully our boy.” She coos with a grin. Now in much closer proximity, she can tell that Gerome has filled out-- even more so than before. She can only thank Naga for someone watching over her son, especially since war has not treated everyone so kindly.

      “The cold, yes, hee hee.” Cherche mused as her fingers brush over blackened scales once more, “I really do apologize for appearing out of the blue. But I do hope we can work together once more. Perhaps a bit more closely, since I’ll be teaching you and your peers some combat training.” And she surely won’t be paying any extra favor to Gerome for that matter. Despite how well preserved Gerome has been, she has the doubt of mind that he’s truly seasoned with the axe. Minerva, the younger Minerva, croons and chortles, leaning closer to sniff at the younger rider’s hair, licking him on the back of the neck.

     “Ah, that’s right Minerva! We’ll be able to ride together more freely as well. Won’t that be fun dear?” Her brilliant smile shines at Gerome.

[wyvern-rider]

headcanons pt. I ღ

i. The wyvern Minerva is named after the Princess of Macedon, Minerva. The stories of the the Macedon Princess always filled a younger Cherche with excitement.

ii. Although Cherche is a friend to all bugs and small critters alike, she absolutely loves dragonflies-- dragonflies symbolize change and a reminder to have joy in ones life.

iii. Cherche’s original dream was to become a breeder of wyvern’s and to be an anti-poacher protester before the war; she still wishes to pursue this dream.

iv. Cherche’s favorite pastime is knitting blankets and duvet’s to be handed out to mother’s and their newborns.

v. Although Cherche will never admit it, she has claustrophobia to a high degree.

[wyvern-rider]

two scales of the same wing ꕥ

      Formalities, paperwork and admissions aside, Cherche settles into the monastery without haste. The normal classroom environment serves no purpose for her course; so she’s found a good rotation schedule to work with in the training yard. Plenty of space and plenty of equipment to work with. Her only complaint, is how tight this uniform feels. Cherche, being used to such flexible material to work with, feels confined in Garegg Mach’s choice of clothing. But she won’t audibly complain.

      Heaving a training dummy on her back, Cherche straightens her posture for it to fall into position on the field. The sun shines down so brightly, she can’t help but wipe the sweat from her brow. She’s been working diligently for most of the morning, prepping for her class later in the afternoon. Minerva bathes in the sun at the far end of the field; despite the discouraging glances Cherche receives from staff and students for allowing a wyvern into school grounds, she pays no heed. It’s important for her dear friend to stretch out from those cramped stables after all. So there she’ll stay, enjoying the gentle breeze and warm sunlight.

      She sighs, taking a sip of water from the canister nearby, while working to furl her hair up into a messy bun. There’s still more work to be done. Well, that is, until she’s greeted by a familiar face coming across the field. Yes, she remembers Morgan quite well, considering how close he’d always been following their faithful tactician in Ylisse. Bless both their souls. Cherche smiles, turning fully to greet Morgan as he bounds right up to her.

      “Morgan! What a delight to see you!” She grins oh so sweetly, setting her canister down, “I’m sure you heard of my arrival from Gerome. Oh, look at you! You look so well fed!” Her hand comes forward to cup the boy’s cheek before gently pinching it between her fingers, “You’re so much taller too, goodness.”

@amnesiac-pawn​​

[wyvern-rider]

of beasts and men ꕥ

     Arrival at Garreg Mach had been a trivial pursuit in its own. The paperwork, the audits, the interview and everything squeezed in between. Not that a former vassal really had any trouble in handling such ordeals. No, no. It’s just the fact that Cherche is promoting herself from servant to instructor. Another title to be placed under her belt. The only downfall, is having to start from scratch; training, literature and combat. A few things that Cherche had dropped from her regular tasks in the war a few years prior. A few things she was obviously a little rusty on.

      But the moment she was accepted and sorted into her own classroom and “House” as they called it in the academy, she was already feeling a bit peppier. A bit more pleased with herself that even a veteran could find their way into higher places. Or, that’s what she liked to believe anyways. Gerome’s letters had always detailed the monastery as somewhere for the “higher class individuals”.

      --Gerome. That’s right. The very reason that Cherche even considered sending in an application. The very reason she’s traveled so far and left everything but the axe on her back at home. Her precious son, or rather, her son of the future coming. Something and someone she looks forward to see every chance she could get. It near broke her heart when he had quietly slipped away to Wyvern Valley, whilst she remained in Roseanne. Even more so when he flew farther from her reach. But she knew there was no reason for her to hold Gerome back. No reason to keep him from following his dreams and pursuing a better future than the one he had known. It’s what she’d want for her child after all. But alas, a mother-to-be can only be separated from her child for so long.

      Cherche hasn’t married... yet. Gerome never confined in her who his father was, or will possibly be. It seemed to be some unspoken truth that was meant to be kept as such. Unspoken and unheard of. Or it might ‘alter ones fate’. So Cherche never pushed or prodded. But that still wouldn’t stop her from longing to be with her boy. The letters that came from Gerome always made Cherche warm in the face and heart swell. A few of his own friends from Ylisse and even some comrades had flown far to be apart of this monastery. So it felt right for Cherche to follow in pursuit. Every letter tucked away in her safe keepings upon her journey.

      And now she joins partway into the year, aligning herself into the Blue Lion’s, respectively. Her room in the faculty division having been assigned prior to her arrival and a stable marked for her dearest Minerva. Right next to future Minerva at that! Cherche was more than elated to greet her, as she greeted Cherche like an old friend. A gloved hand runs over both snouts of the wyvern’s, hearing them chortle and nudge against her shoulder while they bantered together in their own tongue. Cherche smiles and turns briefly to find some water for the both of them--

_______

            ‘Cherche.’

      Cherche’s head turns up at the beckon of her own name, rose colored hues blinking slowly when she realizes just who is calling her. “Gerome... Gerome!” Her lips curl into a grin, leaving the water trough immediately to approach her boy. Both Minerva’s understood, the present Minerva chiding happily with Cherche.

      “Aha... surprise! I was going to come find you before you found me. But I knew you surely must’ve been busy with your classes and what-not, so I waited!” The rider hums, folding her hands at her waist.

     “I’m so delighted to see you... you look so well.”

@forlornwyvernrider​​