prince of serenes

[starter for @dameofcrimea]

The whispering voices scared Reyson more than they welcomed him, which is mostly why he listened to their pleas for him to follow. This felt familiar in a way he could only describe as haunting. He couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but they were speaking his language, he was sure of it... 

His wandering lead him to a dark alleyway, and that’s when he spotted the sign. 

Speak with the Dead. 

A shudder ran through his body, shaking a few feathers from his wings. Of course it felt familiar, he had been a part of them not too long ago-

“Hello?” The gentle call snapped him back to the present. There was a beorc woman sitting in the dark, her hands folded in front of her. There was a small table set up in front of her, with various devices on it. She tilted her head slightly, studying him,  her face breaking into a pitying smile. He took a step back, but whatever was calling to him was strong, and he couldn’t move himself any farther away. 

“I feel them too,” the woman said, her voice strangely present among the swirling wailing. “They have been trying to speak with you for a long time.” Reyson swallowed, feathers flared in fear. 

Something brushed his shoulder, and he turned, startled, to see Titania among the crowd walking by. His eyes, for a moment, showed his panic, but he did his best to wall himself off. 

haunted house - reyson likes to pretend he’s unbothered by such things. he has a class to get to, he doesn’t have time for the people chasing him-!

fairgrounds - I think reyson deserves some fun. just a little bit. he might even enjoy some time there! 

costumes - maybe someone can convince reyson to wear something spooktacular. he won’t take much convincing. 

Reyson stood on the edge of the forest, eyes dull with recollection. The forest was dull, its song had faded long ago. This forest was sleeping, not dead, but it was still all too familiar in his mind.

The driving snow had kept most inside today, but something called him outside today, and he wasn’t going to question the first contact he thought the forest made with him in months. He shivered, drawing his wings closer around himself. It was quiet. Absent, almost. He felt his feathers fluffing up, guarding vaguely against the cold, but it didn’t help much. Was it truly worth it to stand here, listening to a whispered sleepsong sung by a stand of trees, in the middle of the night? Perhaps he had imagined it...

Someone was watching him. He glanced back, but he could barely make out the figure in the snow. He stepped slightly closer, narrowing his eyes against the wind and darkness, but he still couldn’t tell who it was until they spoke to him.

i love you, i've always loved you, i will always love you

albaccelerando​:

atypicalsenerio​:

heronprinceofserenes​:

atypicalsenerio​:

heronprinceofserenes​:

the candle

“Facts, data, memorization, I can absorb information, but I sift through it what I need. My studies are generally reason or tactics related. Getting graded is a side effect of my real goals.” Soren took studying seriously, but his posing as some teenager getting an education wasn’t that important to him. “That isn’t to say there isn’t value in history. One never knows when such things come up, such as the need to understand the nuances of political relationships.”

Of course, music would be central to a heron’s life. Their singing was not only self expression, but the root of their power. Soren might as well have said he’d never walked before despite having workable legs. Reyson’s tone pulled a slight scowl from him, neutrality disintegrating for a moment.

He was tempted to snap, ‘I’m Parentless, what kind of life do you think I had? Was it a life any of your kind would have cared to spare me from?’ but he bit his tongue.

Reyson had lost his home and nearly every other heron alive. He too, had been shaped by wounds that scarred over with time but never fully filled in. His resolve and personality were the result, and Soren could never know what he might’ve been like before Serenes Massacre. Just as Reyson nor Soren himself could never know who Soren might be, had he been raised somewhere with warmth and music. The old anger that had never fully dissipated inside of him against the world had nothing to do with Reyson.

The seconds dragged on a bit too long to pass as a natural pause in the conversation. The dark shadow that had crossed Soren’s face faded. The past was not a subject either were likely to be prepared to handle well when put on the spot.

“Never. No one sang in the households I was raised in, and I was kept away from other children who might’ve ever taught me.” It was true, but not detailed. “By the time I first heard music in a church, I was not the type who would sing. I had other things to occupy myself with.”

Though Soren bit his tongue, he might as well have said it out loud, from the momentary almost-shame that sparked in Reyson’s eyes. He glanced away, staring at nothing in particular, to try and ease the tension of the moment. His lips tilted upward in a joyless smile. 

“Goddess, how I must sound to you, rambling on...” His gaze finally wandered back to meet Soren’s, the green light dimmed by the fading candlelight and energy. His faint smile fell. “I’m sorry, Soren.” He paused, unsure of what else to say, so he just sighed, pulling his wings against his shoulders. His hair had slid under his circlet, and now pooled against the page in his hand. For a moment, he let his gaze travel over the words, the gentle curves of the ancient language (messy as ever, his siblings always had better handwriting) singing to him. Somehow, the life had drained out of his words. Never had the language felt more dead to him than then. He calmly stacked it on top of the other now-dry pages, and set the stack on the corner of his desk. He’d process that when he had the energy to. 

to change fate

Saias furrowed his brow at the other’s decision to make a wish, not for himself, but for someone else—for others, in fact. It… made a surprising amount of sense that the redhead could sympathize with, considering all the people they had lost in that expedition. Even though all of them were now alive, the sense that any of them, or even the survivors, could die permeated the group and made them cling to each other to ensure everyone was all right. Or at least, that’s what Saias felt and experienced.

“Tying it up for someone else… I like that. I think I might do that as well.” I probably would’ve wished for everyone I care about anyway, since what I really want is for them to be healthy and happy. Well, and for my family issues to work out, of course. I suppose that qualifies as part of it. He gave a small chuckle at the thought.

The teen pouted as Reyson flew up into the tree to tie his own ribbon. Lucky bird… I wish I had wings so I could do that too. He shook his head, then laughed; getting jealous over another’s species advantages wouldn’t do him any good, and it wasn’t exactly a wish that could feasibly be granted. Now there’s a thought, waking up one morning with wings on my back. Chuckling, Saias approached the tree, looking for an empty spot amongst the sea of pink where he could tie his ribbon. The entirety of the lower branches appeared to be covered, which made sense since they were nearer to the majority of people. Looks like I’ll have to climb up to find a better spot, then. Just like when I was trying to catch Theodore—ah, now there’s a fun memory. He hadn’t seen shell nor tail of the arachnid since he’d woken up from the expedition, and he hoped the little guy was okay.

Reaching for one of the lower branches, Saias hoisted himself up as he began to climb the tree.

Reyson hesitated at the top of the tree, letting the breeze gently sing under his wings. He let the ribbon tug against his fingers, just barely keeping it from escaping from his hand. He finally spotted a place to tie the ribbon, and hovered over the tip of the empty branch. He pressed the ribbon to his lips for a moment. 

“Please,” he whispered, so quiet he could barely hear himself. “Keep them safe, all of them.” He wanted to say more, but he couldn’t find better words, so he gently glided down and reached out to tie the ribbon to the tip of the branch. His wingbeats stirred the other ribbons, gently pushing them out of hiding, letting them sway and (hopefully) carry their wishes and prayers into the breeze. 

He wondered for a moment if his words would ever reach Serenes. His eyes wandered to the horizon, staring over the seemingly-endless trees. He could almost convince himself he was at home... but Serenes wasn’t as lush, not yet, and though the wildlife had begun to return, he couldn’t feel the same hum of life in the air. 

There also weren’t any pink trees in Serenes. He was sure of that. 

fancy meeting you here

He places the spade down gently as Reyson closes the door behind him, marking his place in the earthen plot. He means to make his way over to the prince in the same tranquil manner but at Reyson’s hesitation, at his referring to the church as letting him do something, his eyes harden.

They are not family, not really. The man known as Sephiran has no kin and regardless of his goddess’s wishes that is the only name he feels the right to possess. But it was the heron tribe who would have been the only ones to survive in his ideal, ordered world and it was the heron tribe who took him in after that all fell apart.

He owes Reyson and his father a debt he knows can never be repaid. And it is that reason that rings clearest when he ponders why indeed he is here.

“Recover? I do hope the Church has not been misusing the students and faculty sent here in good faith from abroad. The Archbishop seems to enjoy debriefing me in the mornings if you would like me to talk to her for you.”

His tone towards light to the end to show Reyson that his intention is not to make another enemy, but the worry remains. There is no real point in trying to mask the emotion and so he does not try.

“I have been… coping,” Sephiran says when Reyson inquires after him. It is a half-truth at best and in the ensuing silence Sephiran turns back to look at the garden plot he’s left behind.

“Teaching, yes. When I am not doing menial chores for my student I teach Faith magic to the Blue Lions house. The background many of them come from is not so different from what I experienced in Begnion.”

Reyson laughs, though Sephiran can sense no joy in it. 

"I would say the church is doing the exact opposite. You weren't sent on that mission, but I imagine you must have heard something about it." He glances down, trying to judge how much he should tell. 

He is again confronted with the issue of how to break the news of one's own death. It isn't like Sephiran will care either way. 

"I died," he  starts, then frowns. A bit more direct than he should have been. "At least, I believe I did." He finally tears his eyes from the floor to look at Sephiran. He tries his best to not look upset, to keep his eyes unreadable, but he hears the tremor in his voice and knows it's probably too late for that. "All of my memories of the past month stop about halfway through, after I was caught in a fire. Based on how people have been treating me lately, I don't believe I survived." He pauses, his wings nervously pressing into his back. "So no, I don't think the church has been very kind to me lately."

it’s unexplainable the sensation that washes over him, the song a gentle hug that washes away negative emotions. the best he could liken it to was ethlyn’s healing hands in the past, but even describing it like that does not give it justice.

he stares at reyson for just a moment, in awe at the power of the heron’s gentle hum. "this is the magic you used in the battle earlier, isn’t it? the power of a heron?” he recognizes it once he gets ahold of himself again. “incredible. i see now why the knights were so invigorated with you at their side.” genuine praise with a lighthearted chuckle at the end.

Reyson nods. 

It’d been an interesting time getting back into the swing of things, and Saias could not be more grateful for this chance to actually start the year (again) when everyone else did. Doing so made for more free time, especially since he’d narrowed down the subjects he wanted to focus in and dropped all the others, and much of this time was spent either with his new friends, his family, or in the greenhouse where the redhead got to enjoy gardening like he would do at home. When he heard about the beautiful pink trees, he knew he just had to go see them for himself. Perhaps he could pluck a few of the blossoms and press them into new charms or something of the like. He could give them to his friends and family as thanks for just being in his life… yes, that sounded quite nice.

As he ventured further into the forest (so unlike the one in which his friends had met their end, however temporary), the teen caught sight of a wondrous great cloud of pink and found himself tearing up at the display, especially when he noticed a familiar pair of white wings nearby. At home, he’d learned that cherry blossoms stood for the fleeting nature of life as well as new beginnings—two things that could not be more appropriate considering the heron’s death during the mission and the second chance Reyson had been given. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he approached the angel-knight, smiling at the man’s greeting. “No worries… it is a beautiful sight after all. Definitely one that inspires contemplation, I think.” As he gazed up at the tree, he spotted little pink ribbons tied here and there among the lovely blossoms. Huh… interesting. I wonder if it’s a custom here and what the significance is.

Someone shoved something into his hand, and he glanced down, finding a pink ribbon in it courtesy of the enthusiastic woman nearby who gave him a nod and a wink. … Okay then. He listened to her as she prattled on about fate and—wait, destined love? Saias raised his eyebrows before blushing in embarrassment. Oops. He’d had no idea about the romantic notions surrounding the tree, and now he felt a little silly in coming here; he hadn’t thought about romance since his early teens. But… perhaps the fate part of it could prove helpful. It seemed a little bit like prayer, if he thought about it: one offers one’s desires up in the hopes that they will be granted, and one must believe that such a thing will happen. Yes… yes, that made sense.

Turning to Reyson, he smiled. “Well, what do you think?”

Reyson kept his eyes on the ribbon in his hands. 

“I think tying a ribbon up won’t do much for me now,” he said, his voice nearly breathless. He slid the silky fabric through his fingers, still lost in his own head. 

What could it do for him now? Any prayers for safety from a raging flame had obviously gone unanswered. Besides, he’d stopped praying to Ashera after, well... 

He sighed to himself, glanced back up at the tree. A ribbon for himself wouldn’t help much. However... 

“I’m going to tie it up for someone else.” A hint of resolve glimmered in his eyes. There were always others that needed to keep moving on. Those who would only pause where he had fallen before and keep walking. He’d done the same, all those years ago. He had fallen, but there were others moving on without him. 

Tibarn. Leanne. Rafiel. Sir Sigurd. Saias himself. 

“A lot of people,” he corrected himself. “I don’t know if that’s how it’s supposed to work, but...” He could fill an entire tree with his hopes for everyone around him. He would, too, if he wasn’t afraid of running out of ribbons. 

he blinks, surprised at the sudden but small outburst of frustration. of course the heron has feelings too, they were just about human as anyone else he knew. he curses himself in his mind for being stupid then looks at reyson adamantly. "my apologies, reyson.” and then he shakes his head. “you are very useful to the group, i promise you that on my life.” and he means it. he’d seen how motivated the knights had become during battle with reyson’s songs, and he knows that a good amount of the knights would be injured if it weren’t for reyson’s help.

“i just-” and then he sighs, because he doesn’t truly know how to explain himself. it takes him a moment to come up with an explanation. “i didn’t like seeing you get hurt like that. it reminded me of someone dear to me.” and he figures he doesn’t need to mention that this ‘someone’ is his wife, unsure of how he would react to that.

Reyson flutters his wings again, glancing away apologetically. "I- thank you," he mumbles. He senses the strange flare of fondness from Sigurd, but he chooses to ignore it for now.

He fidgets with the hem of his shirt, regretting saying anything at all. His issues weren't Sigurd's, after all. The reassurance was still nice to hear. 

He shifts his injured arm cautiously, wincing slightly at the pain, but the arm is usable. He hums to himself, golden magic flowing from his other hand. The soft melody wraps around the both of them, bringing a gentle surge of energy. 

[finally wrote reyson’s post-unlocked drabble.]

[faith starter for @saionofvalflame]

Reyson wasn’t surprised to find himself wandering out to the forest today. His soul felt heavy for reasons he couldn’t explain, and the call of the forest outside was too much to ignore now. He hummed to himself as he walked, the simple tune easily tumbling from his lips. He came to the top of a hill and stepped off into the air, opening his wings to glide easily down to the bottom. The quiet murmur of the forest around him was comforting, and the song Reyson was singing fell quiet so he could listen. He let his eyes fall shut, the weight on his shoulders lifting for a moment- 

-someone else was in this forest. He glanced over towards the voice, cautiously following it. The song of the forest only got louder as he approached, and he ducked under a low branch to see the source. 

Reyson had never seen anything like it. The massive tree draped over the clearing, its leaves a blushing shade of pink. A beorc woman sat underneath it, leaning against a bag spilling over with fabric. The entire tree shuddered in the breeze, and Reyson realized that it was weighed down with hundreds of tiny pink ribbons, almost the same shade as the leaves. The beorc woman stood and approached him, a ribbon in her hand. 

Fate. Destined love. He took the ribbon, not because he believed he needed it, but because he hadn’t had time to say ‘no thank you.’ He ran his fingers along the soft material, thinking. A ribbon to change his fate. What would he have done with this all those years ago? What would he do with it now? 

His train of thought was stopped by someone else standing next to him. He blinked, fluffing his wings against his back. 

The offer from Elincia was kind - perhaps too kind. If she had seen the state of his hair, full of knots and tangles, she probably wouldn’t have offered.

Maybe she had seen it, and that was why she’d offered.

Either way, she was brushing his hair out now, her hands gently working the brush through it. He fiddled with his circlet in his hands.

Reyson glances up when he hears his name, scanning the courtyard until he spots the familiar face in the crowd. A faint smile breaks onto his face, and he's moments away from responding with his own greeting before -

Ah.

Reyson tries his best not to look uncomfortable. Saias seems to understand that Reyson isn't built for squeezing, and he returns the hug after a moment.