Lend me your strength!

that is not to mention that a considerable difference between them has just made itself known. bernadetta does not mind being alone. she almost thinks to reassure alear in this matter, too, but opts against it this time. there are more pressing matters, clock ticking and dye setting as they speak.

“i-it's okay! you're not imposing. i just know enough to help in a pinch, so i thought i'd at least ask.”  there is another thing, though. being alone because you want to is worlds different from being alone because you feel rotten. bernadetta has grappled enough with the two to tell which from which.

“but, uh, yeah! cold water,”  she affirms. it takes careful maneuvering lest someone clumsy topples into the lake, but between the pair of women, they're able to dip the offending section of skirt into the water. floral gloves tucked safely into her pocket, bernadetta flips back her shawl and gets to work on wringing.

it's dim, clear stars and moonlight their best aide, but her sight has always been sharp enough in the dark. bit by bit, more of the pink bleeds out. when bernadetta decides it's the best they can get, her small fists give the fabric one last wring—and now, the next step.

   His face shines that of brilliant crimson as he looks away; their loss was embarrassing, sure, but the way in said loss came to be was far more embarrassing to Chrom than he could put to words. Even now, as they steadily dance together, all he can muster is a quiet “I’m sorry…”

   As he is pulled closer, Chrom’s eyes train to the ground, admiring the grass they stood on. One deep breath followed by another, before he can find the confidence to properly focus on Alear. “We… yeah. I did have fun, I’m sorry I was not of much use as a partner.” He laughs awkwardly at his self-deprecating comment. 

   Yet, as much as Chrom felt the heat of embarrassment lingering through his body, it was hard for him to deny how happy he was to have been close with Alear in this present moment. To that, a smile forms on his blushed face, and consideration crosses the mind. Perhaps she was right, and what they needed to perform well was to be alone. “In that case,”

   “Shall we dance, partner?” 

   Without waiting for a response, Chrom begins to guide the two in a waltz; and as he does he chastises himself mentally once more. ‘Where was this when we needed it for the competition?’ 

   “Hah…” Perhaps the intimacy of the moment causes Chrom to show a more vulnerable part of himself. “I’m really glad I am not merely an Emblem attached to a ring, or bracelet.” He muses, words reminiscent of the ones Alear had spoken to him many times before, “after all, how could-!” but he quickly shuts up, uncertain if what he wishes to say is right to say. 

The existence of hashtags and what they mean in Fodlan is not the point of the discussion right now.

Yunaka silently watches the couple walk out of the room. Soon as they've cleared it, she lets out a big groan as she stretches and kicks her legs up onto the seat in front of her. "I mean...it's not gunna go wonderful perfect style the whole time, right? That's just not realistic." Unless you're a fancy pants noble who can just make the night perfect, but she likes to pretend they left all of those in Brodia where Diamant is squishing them into juice.

   He’s glad to have been of help. That’s really all there is to it. He’s sure Robin would feel the same, had they known they played a role too. 

   “Somehow, the fact that I wasn’t from your Elyos makes sense to me. I know that time travel exists, so this doesn’t seem too farfetched by comparison.” Chrom laughs in turn; learning more of Alear’s home, and the complicated nature of the heroes that resided within their important rings, made it easier to divulge such information. Actually, he wonders if Lucina was also a hero that helped protect Elyos…

   Then his face flushes a stark red, caught unawares at the compliments that follow. Of course, there already had been a solid few exchanges of compliments between Chrom and Alear throughout this; but still, being told so directly that meeting the real him had such a profound impact. Having his hand held following that didn’t exactly help either.

   “I’m… glad. Glad to be able to live up to and exceed your expectations. I hope I continue to do so.” It was the most humble of a response he could come up with. Anything else would almost sound like he was tooting his own horn; undeservedly so, too. “As for your explanation; don’t worry about it. Again, I’ve dealt with… more confusing, in shorter time.”

veyle stills, her hands brought up to her chest as her sister rests her cheek on top of her head. why is it that her sister is so easily able to calm her trembling heart? even when she was a passing thought, a memory linked to a stone, that too was something she was able to accomplish so easily.

"mm." she nods quietly along to alear's comforting words. "i think i'm still kind of a child, but i am going to be a good dragon just like you one day. i know because... you have faith in me." she sniffles, digging her head into the crook of her sister's neck.

veyle finally pulls away from her after quite a bit, sniffling and wiping away at her face. "s-sorry about your uniform." she stutters, gesturing with a shy nod to the stain her tears had caused. "and uhm, the black eagle that was with me... it wasn't your fault either. this wasn't a real fight but he still...." she clenches her fists. "it still felt like he tried to kill you. that's what bothered me really... about not being able to protect you from him."

it almost felt like the day alear did die and even her powers as a fell dragon weren't quite enough to save her.

From protecting her sister. No matter what, Alear would give her life over and over again to save her.

“It’ll take more than that to take me out! I’ve got guts, you know.” With a brilliant smile, Alear presses a soft kiss to the top of her head— a promise of sorts and an apology all in one. “I’m sorry that I scared you. As for protecting me… remember that I’ll do the same for you. Always.”

“Now, that’s no invitation to get yourself hurt. So don’t be reckless! I left you once. I’m not going to do it again— ever. You have my word, Veyle.”

There’s one last squeeze that comes from her sideways hug before she finally relents, leaning over to get a good look at her sister’s face.

“Hey, why don’t we go get some ice cream or something? I think I could use a treat. I’ll pay!”

Good: Henry has been set on fire before! Which means that the burst of magical flame that strikes him kinda tickles. Through the smell of his burning uniform and charring grass, he giggles — and chokes on the smoke. The plume of ash waters his eyes, but again, it really doesn't hurt! No, really. That redness on his hands and face? Nope, no pain at all!

Bad: If rotten tomatoes smelled bad on their own, heating them probably made it ten times worse. Good thing they won't be his problem for long, because he picks up a particularly mushy one in his hand and cackles.

"Yeah, as one!" he echoes, glance darting over to Eirika before returning to Fogado. "Hey, I thiiiink this is a ripe time for you to go, nya ha!"

He winds himself up, spinning his arm way too many times for something as light as a tomato, before sending it flying Fogado's way. If the tomato doesn't get him out — Henry thinks, nose just starting to wrinkle at the drying juice on his hands — the smell surely will.

Fogado doesn't really believe in premonitions, not the way that some people spoke about them. But if he did, he might've said he had one the moment that tomato left the white-haired student's hand. Its mottled red-and-dark form careens through the air. A trail of thin tomato juice is left in its wake. With how soft and rotten to the core it is, its a wonder that it maintains its form through its flight. But it does.

It does until the moment it makes contact with the prince of Solm's face, exploding into not-viscera-but-honestly-kind-of-worse. The tomato's thin skin gives way for the injection of its insides, which are mercilessly white with mold.

He's lucky he didn't open his mouth to scream.

"...yep, guess I—" Nope, talking was the worst idea in this particular moment. Now he can practically taste it. Fogado coughs, swallowing heavily. "Guess I had that one coming. That one's on me for masterminding out in the open."

Fruitlessly, he waves a hand, but the scent is coming from his face now, so there's no getting the smell away from him. It's over. There's no way he's making it even five more minutes without passing out or spewing his guts, and he really doesn't want to do either of those things in front of any of these people. Instead, he wipes rotten tomato gunk off his face (euughhh) and throws an apologetic, watery-eyed smile at Alear.

That's fine though, because it seems like Alear isn't exactly here for the show either. Yunaka hadn't kept her eyes on her the whole night since she didn't have any right to claim any kind of guardianship over Alear, but it was clear that something had happened since she saw her at the start of the night.

While Alear talks, Yunaka stays quiet, munching on the popped corn that she's been handed with half her attention on the screen and half her attention on Alear. She recognizes someone trying to play things off like everything is fine easily. She'd done that plenty of times herself, after all.

"...Mmhm." The only other people she sees are a couple sitting closer to the door, but by the way they keep leaning in and whispering and giggling to each other, Yunaka's not too sure they'll be around here for long. (Or at least...oh man, she hopes they remember they're in here before they start anything.)

★ "Alear! Don't you look stunning! Our Bern's outdone herself, hasn't she? At this rate, she ought to dress everyone for next year's ball!"

☆ "Right? You're a lifesaver, Bernadetta, not to mention talented... if I need advice on next year's outfit, I'm coming straight to you!" / @aliberation

★ “Y-you guys are really flattering me here! I just patched it up a little, but I'm glad it all worked out.” / @hermidetta

She should know, since she's been flat her whole life, unlike this dragon who is so obviously lying to her right now.

...Wait a minute.

Marni squints. Isn't that hair of hers (is it her now???) a whole lot longer than she remembers, too? But Lady Veyle and Zephia both have ridiculously long hair, so maybe dragons just have hair that grows really fast? No, but surely she would've noticed if it really did grow that fast. It's not like she had only known Lady Veyle and Zephia for a day or two. She would've noticed their hair tripling in length. She's not that unobservant.

Weird. Anyway.

The young man pulls his partner to her feet, and Silque can tell, with years of experience, that the hand on her back is not placed just for show. So as soon as they step off stage, the cleric rushes to greet them, pulling Ninian along in her wake.

"Are either of you badly hurt?" White magic flickers in her hands as she worries, crouching to examine the girl's injury. "Goodness, that's red. It's sure to bruise, unless we---"

With those murmured words, Silque presses her palm firmly to the girl's shoulders, closing her eyes on the exhale. The earth mother's grace drains from her fingers, stitching the tissue whole once more.

Before she has a chance to answer, though, there's a warmth and a soothing feeling that spreads throughout sore muscles; it coaxes Alear to look up and glance over her shoulder in search of the redness that she knew would bruise... only to find nothing. Impressive healing magic, and done so quickly, too. "I'm okay now, thanks to you." Alear flashes a smile, albeit a sheepish one. "I'm Alear, and this is Chrom- it's nice to meet you, um...?" She certainly doesn't recognize this woman, and she knows for sure she'd recall someone as beautiful as her. A lovely pair, was it? She does giggle at that, her hand resting lightly against Chrom's shoulder. "Well, you may be the only one who thinks that after THAT display. But I appreciate it! The two of you paint a gorgeous picture of a couple- your dresses are stunning! And I think it's very cute that your blues complement each other." They seem happy, and if they had to lose in such a humiliating way, at least it was to a couple that embodied the romance of everything the ball offered.

"Congratulations on this round. I'll be rooting for you both on the next one, okay?"