soldier ever onward

my love is mine, all mine

She lets Say'ri guide her through the crowd. Often, it is the other way around, with Tiki's whims sending them every which way - but not today.

The enthusiasm that immediately lights up Tiki's face is enough to draw a fond chuckle from Say'ri, not even remotely bothered at the way her arm is jostled as the other bounces on her feet. Yet she doesn't have much time to etch the memory into her mind before she feels an extra tug and she leans over slightly, just in time for Tiki to press a soft kiss to her cheek. Say'ri feels the wind leave her lungs, eyes widening as her face heats up exponentially, feeling the red creeping up the length of her neck. Pah, she's weak for being so susceptible to this embarrassment and she knows it-- but how can she not? How can she not, when the sun that she orbits blesses her with her warmth time and time and time again? A light that she is sure others are more fit to bear.... but it is not her decision to make. Squaring her shoulders and taking in a deep breath, she strides forward to motion to the booth's owner to procure a chance at claiming her Lady's spoils. Three darts, three targets-- it seems simple enough, though the tiny projectiles fit strangely in her hands. Either way, Say'ri knows what she must do... and she will prevail.

twister? i hardly even know her

Dheginsea had stood straighter when his ears had caught the name of a recent event occurring just down the shore. Twister. A simple beorc game.. and the one he had been defeated in last year. Eliminated in the most humiliating way possible…

Takumi had wandered over to see what all this “twister” fuss was about- in hindsight, a terrible idea. But now he was standing in front of the mat and the crowd assembled around it was staring at him like they expected something.

Those who approached were certainly from all different walks of life-- Say'ri had to keep her jaw from falling to the ground when the man introduced as Dheginsea offered himself as a contender in their contest. She had seen people just as tall, yes, but.... how in the hells was she supposed to beat THAT? And sir Chrom. Oh, sir Chrom. A hand is placed over her mouth as she tries so hard to keep it together, stifling as many of her chuckles as she can. It doesn't work, though, and it's easy for anyone to hear the crack in her demeanor. Camilla, Niles.... both hailing from a place she doesn't recognize. Takumi does as well, yet it seems as if they may share some similarities. Then there's Darios. Who looks pissed, ready to kill, and she can FEEL the brooding aura from across the mat. Say'ri is silently thankful that she's not standing right next to him, and she squares her shoulders as it's her turn to call for a spin of the wheel. "Allllllllllllrighty! Say'ri, was it....? Looks like you're getting... Left hand on blue!" Easy enough, it seems. Right?

my love is mine, all mine

It's a long established habit to easily fall into step with the woman next to her, lingering just close enough to provide her arm with the occasional brush of their shoulders. She feels like a young girl with how giddily her heart flips in the moments dark eyes glance down to take in the beauty of not only the Voice of Naga, but the visage of someone who occupies far more of her affections than she'd like to admit out loud. Say'ri feels like she's begun to take the wall between them down, brick by brick. It's not one constructed by Lady Tiki, either-- it's one that she forced herself to create. To maintain a respectful distance, to protect her fealty to the Voice. As a vassal, and nothing more. But they were friends now, weren't they? This was what her Lady wished, and so it would be. Perhaps she doesn't deserve this kindness, but it is not her choice on whether to accept it or not. " 'Tis your first celebration, if I remember correctly," Say'ri muses as she gently leads Tiki through the crowds, careful to carve a pathway through the patrons with her own body if necessary. "I believe I have several ideas that we can indulge in. I ask for your trust this evening, my Lady- I shall not let you leave without having the time of your life." The smile that stretches across her face is nothing short of radiant, though a hint of mischief flashes in the depths of her eyes.

twister? i hardly even know her

"Laaaaaaaaaaaadies and gentlemen, party people! Our next event of the evening is a friendly little competition... a test of your reflexes, your dexterity-- and even your bravery!" Someone that Say'ri doesn't recognize is shouting into the night, a crowd of students and faculty alike seemingly enthralled by the challenges that the announcer keeps proposing to any and all that are interested. This one in particular has caught her attention, though, at the mention of putting her nerves to the test-- and she pauses to hear out the rest of the details provided. "The name of the game is simple. Twisterrrrrrr! Step on up, spin the wheel, and find out what's goin' where! It'd be easy if it was just you, though... so good luck winding and weavin' around your opponents!" This is certainly nothing like she's seen in Chon'sin, dark eyes sweeping across the wheel set up, before settling on the mat stretched out across the sand. She's suddenly thankful that she's worn a loose outfit that gives her plenty of room to move... and she boldly steps forward with a hand raised to volunteer as tribute. Little does she know, this is far worse than what she believes it to be. "We have our first challenger! What is your name, Miss?" All eyes are on her, now. And she swallows nearly audibly before speaking. "Say'ri, of Chon'sin." "Well nice to meet you, Say'ri! Come on, come on, there's no time to waste. Give that wheel a big ol' spin!"

The weapons maintenance rooms were his safe place, albeit of what could be safe. Finn forgot himself in between the layers of metal and the hilts of a blade. Cleaning up the weapon allowed him to transcend his own thoughts for that brief respite. And he would keep coming back all that time to lose himself in the memory of that edge. Ever far from the battlefield, this was an easy and comfortable way to find himself in the groove of every weapon, to allow himself to be swallowed in its sharpness and depth.

"Wait!" Her words leave her lips before she even thinks to do so, and her stare is blank for a few seconds before she scrambles to rectify the situation that she's created. It's not that she has any issue with tending to the weapons alone... but it's more of the fact that she's searching for any sense of familiarity that she can in the chaos of adapting to this new environment. There had been so many times in the past where she recalled sitting alongside an ally, not even in conversation. The silence between them had been comforting as they tended to their weapons, the only noise being that of the rag against the cool steel of their blades-- and, of course, the one that she owes for ever showing her these things in the first place. Yen'fay always had been the type to sit in one place easily. As a child, Say'ri tried so hard to follow in his image, often imitating his routines in a desperate attempt to live up to the reputation he had created for himself. Looking back on it now, she knows that she had to have annoyed him... yet instead of chiding her or discouraging her, he only ever sat in silent support of her endeavors. She remembers the day that he allowed her to sit in his lap, taking her hands in his and showing her how to tend to even the tiniest of details on a katana, cotton ball applied to smudges that would be invisible to anyone else.

one of us will be the world's greatest swordsman!

Of course, as expected, Say'ri knew that the student who had introduced herself as Yuzu would quickly become interested in serving under her tutelage as a master of the sword-- she did not, however, expect this to be so soon. Yet it doesn't bother her in the slightest, and if anything, the idea warms her heart. For someone to be so eager and so unabashed in their care for their craft... it is the makings of a perfect pupil, ever vigilant in their pursuit for tailoring their skills to a higher level. So once they arrive to the training grounds, Say'ri stops in the center before gloved hands drop to the belt slung around her waist. It takes only a quick movement for the dual sayas to be removed from their latches, and she turns on her heel with arms outstretched in order to offer both blades to the student across from her. There's no hesitation in her decision, dark eyes staring straight at the girl who's piqued her interest from the beginning. "If you are to learn, Yuzu, then you are to become flexible," She gently places her sheathed katanas into the other girl's hands, careful not to allow them to fall to the dusty ground beneath them. "Allow yourself a moment to become acquainted with your new companions. A blade has many stories to tell, it is only a matter of whether you choose to hear them or not." Hers have certainly seen enough war and bloodshed to last anyone a lifetime or two. She is not proud of every life taken by them, yet Say'ri knows that she would do everything over again in order to protect the wellbeing of the Shepherds and her people. "Tell me. Are you listening?"

I won't fall if you don't fall

Stahl has a couple of days before he's going to be actively put on patrol. They want to give him time to familiarize himself with the monastery as best as he can before he starts memorizing patrol patterns and shifts and such. It's nice to have some time after he'd traveled so far, and he's finding out that more than a few people he knows have made their way here.

    It is a quiet society, you’ve come to learn. People keep to themselves unless they need something. This isn’t to say they aren’t wont to help one another out, mind you - many of the denizens here operate under the ‘scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours’ philosophy. So you decide to help with an errand, right? Great. Easy. Or so you thought. When you arrive at the smithy's to pick up a tool for the seamstress, you are sent to the bakery to find a quiche. But the baker in turn sends you to the fisherman to get oil. Ah, but he needs bait from the herbalist, first… Just how long is this quest going to last?! [Grants Authority +1] (starter for @amatsuken)

What started as a simple list of tasks to complete has quickly devolved into more chaos than the two of them originally agreed to-- and in true philanthropic fashion, Say'ri doesn't have the heart to decline when there's so many citizens in need of a helping hand. It's true that this is not her country, nor are they her people, but it doesn't dissuade her from immediately jumping in to assist in restoration efforts... fostering good relations between Fodlan and Chon'sin would only benefit both parties in the long run, and you always had to start somewhere. Yet now, the Princess of Chon'sin finds herself buried under myriads of bags and packages that the two of them have fetched for deliveries. The weight is of no consequence, Say'ri has plenty of physical ability-- but the bulkiness of the various items makes it difficult for her to see around them... and so she's stumbling not-so-gracefully in a desperate attempt to stay caught up with her companion. "Lady Lyn, was it?" Say'ri huffs out as she juggles some of the boxes, leaning to the side in order to ensure that they don't all come toppling down. "I am loathe to inform you that I believe I've lost all sense of direction. P'rhaps t'would not be such a terrible idea to-- to sit for a moment?" To arrange their thoughts, yes. To come up with a plan. Not because she's tired of lugging these damned things around.

no place I'd rather be

"Thank you..." her words drift off. It wasn't her fault, she supposed, that Say'ri simply had such powerful, muscular legs, perfect firm pillows...

It was somewhat of a comfort to seclude himself in weapons maintenance when there was nothing else to do. Finn appreciated making sure each blade and bow was up to par. It was something of a strange joy for an old dog with little other delights in life. 

To the eye of someone that didn't know her well, this was simply maintenance. To her, however, it was a sort of communion-- between warrior and weapon, past and present, life and death. Say'ri had made herself comfortable on the floor, seated cross-legged as she moved with the slow, deliberate precision of someone who had done this ritual a thousand times. The small cloth in her hand and a tin of oil by her leg, she worked-- cleaning away not just dirt, but echoes of the last spar it had seen. Sweat, frustration, nicks and scratches faded beneath her touch, the metal catching the firelight of a nearby torch as it gleamed under her touch like liquid gold. She paused, inspecting the edge, testing its bite with the tip of a calloused thumb; as expected, it pricks her skin, and she nods in satisfaction. Still sharp. Always sharp, as it should be. An unfamiliar voice breaks her concentration, though, and her normal meditative calm quickly crumbled as Say'ri tossed a look over her shoulder in an attempt to identify whoever had approached. An unfamiliar man, his blue hair a stark contrast against the backdrop of a dimmed training ground. "Fie, you startled me..." She mumbled under her breath, using the cloth to remove a smudge from the blade that she just created. "My apologies, if this is your usual choice of work. Aye, I am indeed new to the Monastery, and these routines... are relaxing to me." "I have not met you before-- though, I have learned the names of very few faces here. P'rhaps I should rectify this by asking you yours." "I am Say'ri, Princess of Chonsin. Though here... I suppose I am an assistant to one of the Blue Lions Instructors. You are?"