retainer to askr .

bushinto​:

Duke Maxifeld has received a letter detailing the planned heist of his family’s priceless heirloom - a weapon said to take on many an alternate form - during his upcoming annual ball. The Knights of Seiros have assigned you and your partner to attend undercover and find the wannabe thief before they act. The event is strictly for couples only. Better make your act convincing! [Grants Any Weapon +1]

Ryoma is a married man. He is also a teacher. Passing himself off as part of a couple with Ash in order to get into this event will prove to be an ordeal for him. Not only does he have reservations about appearing disloyal to his partner (he’s also praying nobody recognizes him as High Prince) but he hasn’t had the pleasure of meeting Ash. He knows not how the situation would affect her, what she plans on doing to make their act believable, or how committed she is to the mission. But still, the task before him is one that he must see completed. The heirloom is incredibly important to Duke Maxfifeld, and should it fall into the wrong hands, a weapon that can adapt to any situation would prove to be catastrophic. 

So Ryoma dons his finest kimono–colored black for the formal event–does his hair up all fancy, makes sure he smells and looks his sharpest. He prepares himself, for a night of duty–of excellence. His best effort shall be given to this job, and he’ll prove not only to himself, but for all who dare to watch, that not even death can kill his devoted spirit. 

He and Ash are to meet up someplace outside the front gate, and he hopes he can get in a word of introduction before they enter. Since this is a couples-only party, they would run the risk of appearing suspicious should they split up to cover more ground. Therefore, it is imperative that they find a way to work together as a team; playing off of each other’s strengths and weaknesses is key to catching this thief in the act. 

And there she is now, standing just where they had agreed to.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” because to do so would have just been rude, “Greetings. As we have yet to formally meet, I am Ryoma, a… Man, from Hoshido.” Unease settles on his face. He has to be wary of revealing too much in this place, for his own sake. Ash probably knows by now that he’s more than just a common man, but the general populace does not. The last thing he needs is to get involved in a scandal because he tried to do the right thing. “I understand that this sort of mission is a difficult one to take on with a complete stranger, so you have my thanks for backing me up.”

He offers her his arm, but it’s entirely just for show. Couples are meant to do that sort of thing, right? They’ll at least walk in like this, and ease up the act once they’re inside. It’s not like guards will be posted to make sure everyone’s lips are locked the entire night. 

“As for how we shall complete our task, feel free to leave most of the eyework to me. I consider myself rather perceptive of my environment, and it’s a skill I’ve worked hard to hone. In return, I’d ask that you save much of your energy for the capture; I cannot seem to fit a weapon in this outfit, and feel uncomfortable fighting without one.”

Being a student at this academy had very quickly become perhaps one of Ash’s most fascinating endeavors.

She has been close with the mortal world before, has given up parts of herself to protect it, but to be so intimately involved with it... There’s something so strange about not being seen at first glance as the divine beast that she is. It’s nice, she thinks, something that might be worth getting used to.

Of course it has also come with a number of interesting things, as well. Strange requests, mostly, such as the one she is currently tasked with completing. Never before has Ash found herself at a mortal Ball, let alone in the company of someone who she was supposed to play off as a “date.”

...what ever that was.

Ever dutiful, Ash is in place no less than ten minutes before their scheduled meeting time. She stands with her hands held together at her chest, glancing around the flow of people with the interest of a shy child. Only when Ryoma speaks does she even realize he is there, bovine ears flicking as she startles.

“Yes, right. I am Ash, retainer to the Divine Dragon Askr,” spoken as though from a well rehearsed script. Citrine gaze flickers down to his extended arm, confusion evident on her features as it returns back to the man’s face. “You need not thank me for doing as I was asked.”

She does not take his arm -- doesn’t exactly understand its purpose -- and instead turns her attention right back to the crowd as he continues speaking.

“I can do that, yes.” Her chin dips in a nod. It’s probably fortunate that he is volunteering to do the looking part for her. There are too many things to take in and all of them are distracting. 

opnaskr​:

warmth blossoms within his chest as ash responds in kind to his request, as casual as it had been. there was no one in his long life that could make him happier, not since king lif passed away and he was left to rule a realm without the man.

“my darling daughter.” he responds with a more down to earth gentle smile, arms wrapping protectively around her upper back. though he found himself still confused over how he still lives, he thinks that perhaps he was meant to find ash again here. 

lif had once described to him what true bliss was, and askr thinks this had to be what the man had described. feelings of pure joy wrapped around him in something of a hug, askr cannot imagine being any happier than right now. “i should be the one saying thank you— for indulging me so.”

Ash thinks, for a moment. that this may be the closest to mortal that she has ever felt. This emotion, so pure and raw, is something that she has only heard spoken of, and it is one thing to understand such a concept in theory.

To experience it is another entirely.

She wants to challenge him further -- to explain that surely he is mistaken, that clearly this was to indulge her -- only it dawns on her then that perhaps this is for both of them. Her Lord Askr ( no, her father ) could want for such interactions as this just the same as she. It’s an unbelievably strange prospect, but she can accept it. 

“You do not need to thank me for anything.” Hesitant as she may be to end this moment, Ash untangles herself from her father’s arms. Hands come to wipe at her eyes, smudging tear tracks over her cheeks, and retainer sniffs as she composes herself.

opnaskr​:

ah. his daughter. the closet thing he had to a mortal family. he hadn’t expected to see her in a place like this but joy is brought to his heart all the same. if there was anyone in his long life who made him feel as if he had a heart as bright as a mortal’s, it was his retainer.

‘lord askr.’ she calls him. the god remains silent for a moment, before a wide grin befits his face. “my dear ash, i thought i told you to call me father the last time we talked?” he asks with a laugh as bright as ever even after he had faced death itself.

“it has been far too long. come here.” it is not a command but a gentle request, askr opening his arms wide for a hug. his tail swishes from right to left behind him, betraying his calm appearance. he missed his retainer— his beloved daughter.

“Father.” 

It is there, in the grin of her father, that Ash’s world is born anew.

Cautious steps turn to a near sprint, covering the distance between them in a mere moment. Hesitance is forgotten, overwhelmed and replaced by the feeling of joy -- of love.

Arms are folded around her father’s shoulders in an outward display of affection so unbefitting of their usual relationship. Ash is sure she will be embarrassed for it shortly, apologizing for overstepping in a way that a retainer never should, but for once that worry can be saved for later. It doesn’t matter now, when she had thought so surely that they would never meet again -- that she would continue in eternity without him.

Ash allows herself, this once, to be nothing more than a daughter.

Tears trickle down warm cheeks, interrupted only as her face presses to his chest. Quiet sobs take her, shoulders shaking just so. 

opnaskr​:

it is only by chance that the god ends up in the graveyard tucked away within the monastery, but askr cannot help but think that perhaps there is a purpose for him to be here. he looks down at the graves deep in thought, reading the names of the dead in his mind. so many mortal lives lost….

he still isn’t sure how he was still alive himself— perhaps he would never be sure. this realm was an enigma to him, even as a god who lived for many years— for longer than any mortal could possibly comprehend. he thinks of the retainer that he’d left to guide the mortals to getting rid of embla’s darkness. how was she faring? hopefully well…

his ears twitch at the sound of footsteps behind him and he turns his head to find out who it is.

Graveyards. They are a thing of the mortal realm -- a place for mourning made for the fallen by those who will, inevitably, do the same. It is a sad thing, to watch a mortal life wane and fade, to see all of that death in one place. 

Her footfalls are near silent as she approaches the plot of land dedicated to the Monastery’s own lost souls. Hands clasp one another, held at her chest. This feeling of loss is one so foreign. One that, for as many centuries as she had drawn breath, Ash had thought herself immune to.

It’s silly, she thinks, to mourn her father in a place where he had never once been. His body does not lie beneath this soil, but she will mourn before it anyway.

A silhouette pulls her attention, standing out amidst the headstones. For a moment, Ash considers turning. It would be wrong for her to interrupt someone else’s grief with her own when it does not even belong here, but then there is something so familiar about the body before her. Retainer takes a cautious step forward, squinting to try and make out the features framed by late evening sun.

She sucks in a breath as the figure turns and a pair of horns so unmistakably like her own join the outline. Surely, she must be imagining things, but if she isn’t...

ashes ashes; dust to dust

for @askretainer!

      THERE’S AN UNSPEAKABLE ANGER THAT burns within her at the sight of this strange horned lady. A sharply-growing hatred that festers like an infected wound, hissing and searing with a toxic pain. It’s reminiscent of her childish rage towards the Askrans, this feeling Veronica harbors, only this feels more… divine. Like an offering, almost. Her hands find themselves massaging her head, an attempt to quell the pain that bites at her temples.

     Oh, it’s so nostalgic, though! It’s been far too long since you’ve returned to the roots of that elm tree.

     You— Veronica— find yourself with darkness at your fingertips, a ball of miasma forming at your magic-stained palms. You align it perfectly with her head. Its shadowy black would make a good contrast to her sickening white. Your spell grows like a hungry crevice, its power enough to burn through the air and surely kill her and then… THEN!

     It is gone. As suddenly as it came, it is gone, and Veronica’s hands turn sweaty and slack. Her breathing sharpens. It’s only when the ringing of her ears and the redness of her vision disappear that she notices they were there at all. She swallows. What happened? Then, stiffly, manages to eke out a few words for the student she had very nearly slaughtered.

     “You…” her voice shakes, “What are you? Why do I…” she shakes her head weakly, “No. Just answer me. Now.”

Wide citrine blinks once, twice, watching the unmoving porcelain figure before her. Ash does not need more than a glimpse to know who she is facing -- princess Veronica’s likeness is a unique one.

Are there truly so many Emblians here..?

Confusion stills her tongue, brows furrowing as she does her best to read the expression she is faced with. Surely, the other should recognize her, and yet Ash finds that to be quite far from the case at all.

The adornments on her horns jingle softly as her head tips left, ivory brows furrowing. “What am I?” she echoes, as if debating the question for herself. The blood of Embla flows through the veins of her company -- should she not know?

“I am the retainer to the divine dragon Askr,” comes her answer, spoken as though scripted, for it is perhaps the easiest thing to address about this interaction. 

Well, isn't she lovely?

Laslow stands from his seat, rattling the teacup in his haste. You only get one chance to make a first impression, after all, and he's not one to squander such an opportunity!

Especially not when it might earn him a date. Lady Fate is on his side today! (Famous last words.)

"Hey! Hey, wait up!" Laslow trots over to Ash, dazzling smile fixed firmly in place. "Pray a moment of your time, my sweet! Are you a magician? Because when I look at you, everyone else disappears!"

Eyes widen, startled by the call for her attention. Ash halts and bovine ears flick towards the sound a beat before her head turns, eyes landing on the figure of an approaching mortal.

Bewilderment is undeniable in her expression as the creature speaks. Ash blinks once, twice, giving a most earnest attempt at deciphering such strange words.

"A magician?" She echoes, head tipping just so slightly left as she considers this prospect. "No, I do not believe I am or ever have been such a thing... But this phenomenon you describe is quite an odd one, yet. I have never heard of such a condition, and surely have never been the cause of it."

closuretainer​:

“I thought I told you to keep that mouth shut,” Elm starts, slowly closing the distance between himself and the other divine beast. He hates her. So very, very much. If they had met in a less public place, she’d already be punctured a thousand times and laying dead on the floor. But he supposes the courtyard would do. He has to be mindful of his approach, but terrorizing the rivaled Ash shouldn’t be too difficult. Still, her matter-of-fact tone and pompous way of speaking make his stomach churn.

But a nonchalant shrug is given once he enters a normal conversing range, complete with one of the leers he’s known for. It’s backpedaling time. “And besides, I was throwing that to you, not at you. A big fat cow has plenty of use for a steak knife, doesn’t she?” Laughter streams from his lungs, sinister and mocking. Oh how vicious Elm revels in spitting daggered words at this foolish bison. Watching her stutter and struggle to react as someone isn’t friendly with her for a change will always make enduring her long speeches worth it! The corners of his lips twist uneven, a sadistic glint in his eyes as he puts a plan into motion.

Elm uses his speed to confound and rush down one of the onlookers. They barely have the chance to run, what with Elm taking to skies to swoop in on them, before they’re being grappled and held hostage. The slim metal of his Iron Sword makes a clean grinding sound as it’s unsheathed, and then it is brought to this poor student’s neck. If Ash thought she had an advantage by being out in the open like this, she’d be dead wrong. Elm intends to use whatever tactic he can–uncaring and unsympathetic of lowly human morality–to see her blood spilled on Fodlan’s soil. It’s funny, and so he riles again, how easy she makes his goal by appearing here. Is she stupid enough to think she can beat him, or does she just have a death wish?

“Now slit your throat with it,” he hisses, drawing his blade against the human’s flesh like a violin’s bow. It ruptures any surface-level capillaries, wetting itself with their blood and threatening to steal more. “Unless you want this pathetic little human to die for you!”

It is the same as everything else Elm does -- a display. Ash watches with wide eyes as her reminder of the academy’s rules is ignored completely. He approaches and her chin tips gingerly downward to continue watching his expression, frown only deepening.

Gaze flickers to the knife in her hands, considering it as he cackles. “I... do not have much use for this, no- “

She appears as though she is going to continue on -- perhaps inquire as to what makes him think she may believe such an offering to be one of kindness -- when a blur of motion startles her head upwards once more.

A student struggles in his arms, iron to their throat. Such violence towards an innocent mortal, and for what? To further such a display? How could one possibly be so cruel?

There is little time to truly consider her options -- she is not foolish enough to think Elm is bluffing. A deep breath, and Ash stalks across the courtyard towards the smaller figure and its prey.

“Please understand that I cannot allow you to do such a thing. This mortal has done nothing to harm you.” Swallowing the urge to hesitate, tan fingers enclose around the offending blade. Iron digs into her palm, but it doesn’t stop her from pulling the weapon away from the student’s throat.

The body in his grip manages their escape, and Ash lets go with a sigh. 

“I understand your position at this academy to be one of much importance,” those normally kind eyes narrow just so, shoulders squaring, emphasizing her seriousness, “as well as... particularly fragile.”

The crimson on her palm is wiped down the front of her skirt, gaze flickering now to any onlookers that still linger. Another sigh. She has never been fond of making threats.

There were… cow laguz?

“I’ve never met a laguz like you before.” Soren looked her up and down, arms folded. “Are you from the beast tribe, or elsewhere ?” Maybe as a prey animal, she wasn’t fit for combat and that was why he hadn’t seen any of her kind around the battlefield.

At least… he didn’t want to imagine a cow being a predator somehow.

For a moment Ash stands in silence, watching with something like bewilderment as the shorter being before her seems to ponder her existence. 

“L-laguz?” The word is foreign on her tongue, and she squints a little as she echoes it, brows furrowing. “I apologize, sincerely, but I have... no idea what that means, and henceforth could not possibly be one.”

"YOU!"

Steel pierces through the delicately arranged pile of leaves before her, and Ash’s head shoots upright just as a yell cuts silences all of the other students in the yard.

Of course it doesn’t take more than a moment to recognize him -- standing some twenty feet away and clad in the exact same black and gold as she. Her mission’s entire focus glares across the courtyard, accompanied by the eyes of just about every other bystander.

She had hoped to make this reunion far less public.

“Elm,” a frown pulls at her lips as she pushes herself to stand. The dagger he had so kindly lodged in her lunch is removed, held away from her between two fingers with a look of something like disgust. 

“I had not anticipated seeing you here,” a lie, but there are too many onlookers and to reveal her true purpose would likely be foolish. “What a... peculiar coincidence this must be. For your Lady Embla and my Lord Askr’s own orders to align in such a way...”

Hopefully the little front of hers isn’t made too obvious -- betrayed by her expression or that nervous tone to her voice.

Torchlight flickers, bouncing off of old stone walls and adding yet another layer of warmth to the already stifling scene before her. 

A particularly loud noise sounds from the far left of the room — the sound of a glass being slammed down upon rickety oak, followed by an eruption of raucous laughter. One white ear twitches, shoulders pulling inward in a full body flinch away from such chaos. 

This is terrible. 

bitch.

do you understand how terribly uncouth such a thing is to say ?