★
if i look back, i am lost
tumblr dot com
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
d e v o n
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Show & Tell
shark vs the universe
DEAR READER
pixel skylines
dirt enthusiast
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Stranger Things
Kaledo Art
Mike Driver
trying on a metaphor
Today's Document
oozey mess
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@crimsonpaved
-> CRIMSONPAVED: A study in devotion to a cause, twisted hatred and anger, learning to live for more than a single moment, the shackles of the past and the broken chains of the future.
Private and Closed HUBERT VON VESTRA affiliated with @/theofficersacademy
Black Eagle Student
Viis, He/Him, GMT+0
Writing Sample / Stats / Ask / Dossier / Supports / Discord IMs Okay !!
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Baking is something Tine is still learning.
She can tell that this little bit of chaos isn't helping her; there's flour on her elbows, removing the eggshell pieces is taking more time than she assumes it should.
She isn't quite present enough to care.
For there is something far more precious at stake.
She's making sweet buns with crushed walnuts, almonds, honey, and cinnamon.
They're for students and faculty she would like to show her appreciation for.
An-nd well, one fellow student in particular…
She wraps the baked goods in clean cloth with differently colored ribbons to make it less apparent that only one ribbon is red.
She kisses the parchment—no lipstick; it won't leave a mark, just a foolish wish to be kissing him instead.
She reads it all over again, considering another draft but knowing it wouldn't change much.
Her feelings will remain the same, no matter how well she conveys them.
My love.
I hope you will forgive me if I linger too long when I give you this.
I know it will get suspicious if I deliver my words to you this way too often.
I hope to work on my restraint, but now there is nothing I long for more than to, at least for a few brief moments, hold your hand.
Those are words better spoken out loud, but my mind refuses to wait.
I love you.
I wish to be yours as long as you have me.
I vow to be strong for you.
To make up for what I lack.
You give me hope like rain gives life.
By my will.
Your Tine.
The clean-up is frustrating and exhausting.
It would put anyone in a bad mood, but when she's finally able to deliver the most precious gift.
She refuses to do it with anything but her brightest smile.
PREPARING FOR A TRIP IS ALWAYS AN ARDUOUS ORDEAL, especially one where preparing to meet with a family member you wish never to see again is a necessity. He's not sure how long he's going to be staying in Enbarr over the course of this trip, and yet he prepares for more than a few months anyway. Ink is sealed and almost haphazardly thrown into the pack before tomes are carefully adjusted.
Miscellaneous letters bundled together filled with thoughts he's never quite seemed content in speaking, addressed to each of his compatriots. The pile has only seemingly become larger than late, and yet one remains uncontained, a series of haphazard thoughts contained amidst inks overflowing, left unsealed even as he packed and unpacked and packed again in indecisive rigour.
They are thoughts that words cannot dare to speak, emotions born of a fleeting night that gives life to a day so rare for him to live in, and yet he commits his thoughts to paper regardless. He thinks of her, of emotions unfamiliar, of life and love and duty and rebirth before the letter is sealed and the pack slung across his shoulders, stepping out into Dawn's Early light long before the rest of his classmates are yet to awaken.
... Yet there she is, the woman for whom the letter remains unsigned, waiting with a package that curls against his senses as if enticing him to remain just a little longer, to linger like a specter just for a few moments longer, and so he does, untucking the pack as the baked goods are taken with an almost silent smile. Trading the goods full of her emotions for a letter full of his.
"Thank you, Tine..." A soft smile on his features, placing the letter full of his love and emotions in her hand as he carefully tucks the goods into his pack. "I'll... be setting out now, Enbarr awaits." A way to say I love you from a man who hardly speaks outside of riddles.
Wyvern Moon More Like Harvest Moon
Ashe finds himself surprised, yet again. He almost feels like he has to glance up at Hubert to confirm the words came from him- the compliment, that is. Hubert doesn't seem like the type to give away praise that easily.. So either Ashe was mistaken about him, yet again... or maybe he should just appreciate it all the more for that, because he probably means it.
But that doesn't take him out entirely. He is still very much paying attention and taking heed of all the valuable knowledge Hubert offers.
"I see! Well, you probably figured this much out, but... I'm no good with magic, hahah..." A somewhat bashful smile shows on his face. No one would expect magic to be necessary to clean up a garden! Ashe momentarily wishes he could just get rid of all the refuse as quickly as the other can, as effortlessly as snapping his fingers. "I can still pull the plants out alright, but, I'd have to burn them the old way... Maybe I'll just gather them all in one pile, for convenience? How about here?"
As luck would have it, there are a couple of wooden wheelbarrows sitting nearby, as they're always valuable for gardening and carrying plants around. Or, maybe less to do with luck, and more someone else having prepared these just for the occasion. Either way, Ashe carefully sets down some of the sad-looking, almost putrid specimens in one of them. But, on the opposite end, some of the fruit-bearing plants look decent! Thankfully, most of the time, it's fairly obvious when a fruit or flower is tainted. He thinks, at least. Hubert will likely correct him before he has a chance to mess things up.
"And I imagine we'll still have to transplant the ones that aren't damaged, just in case there's something in the soil, right?"
HE PAYS ATTENTION TO OTHERS, both nature and necessity, that learning Ashe's strengths and not-weaknesses come almost natural to him in a way. He cannot fault him for wanting to focus on more martial weaponry, not when magic is all the more volatile than the snapping of bow strings. Still, Hubert cannot allow that to interrupt his precious work, reaching down as flame bursts to life in his grasp, scorching the marred plants before the roots can take any more than they already have.
"And I cannot claim proficiency with the bow, yet it is hardly anything worth feeling shame for." Spoken as if it's a simple fact, offered neither as encouragement nor chastisement as he keeps from acknowledging the almost vicious miasma of a magic meant only to destroy that hums at his senses. Truly, the attack had been almost too strategic, yet he has to keep himself from running off into the dying light in search of answers just yet, instead turning his head to acknowledge the question posed. "There would be fine if you intend to burn them manually, spread fertiliser over the pile to ensure the flame spreads faster." An almost amusing tidbit of knowledge from when he'd reluctantly had to try to smother the fire he'd started beside a pile of fertiliser in an almost distant past, and yet the memory is still as fresh in his mind.
A part of him laments for the medicinal plants rotted to the core as he pulls them from the dead soil, they were to be his supplies upon his return to replace the vulneraries he'd been forced to use and yet here they lay twisted into an accursed poison as he sets them down. Darkened eyes watch over the soil, tracing the scorch marks before a hand quickly darts to the trowel by his side, dragging a line down the dirt before the seeping malice can spread any further towards the fruit bearing plants yet untouched.
"An astute observation, the soil will no doubt need to be replaced, and the plants transferred, however for the moment we can afford to triage the afflicted plants and safely dispose of them before tossing the bed. Some of the plants grown here are used to particularly harsh environments, after all."
A Demon? Anyways here's Banshee
TOAnniversary [Reason +1] w/ Grima
ONCE, JUST ONCE, he would prefer if a leisure activity were actually for leisure rather than requiring him to deal with a particularly troublesome beast that has decided to make the quietest spot he could find a hotbed for activity of the more magical nature. Truly, this has to be retribution from the goddess for invoking her name far too often, how else is he going to explain managing to get himself trapped unprepared in an illusion yet again. At least this time, the monk is nowhere to be found to see this bout of misfortune that's fallen upon his head like a sack of bricks and his tome is mercifully intact for dealing with the nuisance that has interrupted his hard fought for retreat.
Still, Hubert is cautious, gouging deep into the towering tree with the dagger to mar its bark, leaving a clear path to follow lest he find himself running in circles and yet... he can just about make out a figure in the magic laden fog, no doubt another unfortunate soul that found themselves amidst the enchanted forest in the mountain valley. Yet as he approaches, Hubert can only recognise the wrongness given off, a familiar omen to the mage that so often dabbles in arts darker than most are prepared to venture into and yet it's soothing in a way, to have a sense of familiarity in a place so overwhelmingly bathed in faith.
Squinted eyes can just about see through the mist, making out the shape and almost distinct appearance of the Eagle's new Reason professor, with features caught in a scowl, were it not implausible Hubert would almost argue he was arguing with himself and yet that is no doubt a matter for another time, most definitely requiring further investigation during the academic year when the security around the records became pitifully dull.
"Professor." Sharp tongued, words that bite like a serpent through the fog even as he feels the phantom gaze fall upon his skin once more, a hand reaching to crack open the tome as incantation blooms to life in his grasp, flaring to life before Banshee darts into the treeline, doing little to dissuade the cackling menace that darts across the branches so mockingly.
"It would seem our formal introduction is to hunt the particularly bothersome beast lurking in the fog, a pity, I would have preferred it to be over coffee, I'm sure your insights into our shared magic would have been rather interesting."
-> @wyrmandtheworm
hubert’s proclivities (to put it kindly) are something of an open secret to his classmates, especially those who share the same social standing as he. that’s how linhardt sees it, at least. that’s why the question they’re about to ask him, while mischievous, is perfectly reasonable.
or maybe linhardt just wants to use the guise of trickery to make progress on their research. it could always go either way with them. (they hope.)
he is still taller than them (and caspar) so whispering in his ear from over his shoulder is a little difficult. to that end, they bring with them a chair, and set it on the side of the opposite shoulder that they lean up to.“hubert,” they begin, “i know you have a variety of contacts in all corners of adrestia. have you ever considered using them to… hunt for crest stones?”
PREPARE FOR TROUBLE... (2/2) [Angel on the other]
WERE IT NOT FOR THE FACT THE COFFEE HAS ALREADY BEEN DOWNED, Linhardt would have found themselves in need of a new uniform for the day, even now Hubert's instincts scream to draw the dagger from his sleeve and give up the ghost so to speak in search of a rational answer as to why they were willing to bring that up in the middle of the mess hall. Still, it would be rather bad manners to create a scene so openly, so instead he steps back from the bench, a cool look in his eyes as he turns to the duo that willingly play a rather dangerous game.
"Follow me, both of you." The walls have far more ears than he'd like to be aware of such a sensitive topic, especially when the knowledge he holds is more than likely to see him hunted for even daring to divulge it. A step in pace, steeling his nerves even as a hand curls around the handle of the knife. There is a technicality, the information is a state secret he's only marginally at liberty to discuss and still, he would rather not invite the ire of the archbishop for revealing just what he knew about the history of the continent at large.
Twenty paces is all he needs to escape the confines of the hall and make it inside the mercifully empty Black Eagles Classroom, nudging the doors closed as both enter behind him. "Firstly, ask me to lean down next time, it is far less suspicious than pulling up a chair! Secondly..." A breath, a hand curled behind his back to cup the tome should it become absolutely necessary.
"...I should not need to remind you that what you ask about is technically a state secret, one that I must be absolutely certain you asked about only because you aren't privy to the fact that knowledge of their location puts a rather sizeable target on all of our backs." A weary sigh, glove slipping from his fingers as the tactician reaches to rub at his eyes, lamenting the ruined coffee that had started the day off.
"IF, and I mean if, I were to be aware of a certain item's suspected wearabouts, I would require certain assurances from both of you before divulging the purely... hypothetical locations of such... rarities."
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There’s a small rattling of chair leg against floor as Hubert’s shoulder devil positions himself, tossing a sideways glance and a wrinkle of the nose at his angelic partner as he steps up.
“Psh. knowing Hubert, he could probably tell us the exact number of cats in the country. Or does Count Hevring have those numbers? They’re domesticated animals, so…”
Crest stones sounds like too big of an ask, and cats might not be part of Vestra’s realm. In that case…!
“Oh!” Caspar barks, quite loudly for someone hovering so close to a classmate’s ear. The grin on his face is plenty audible, even if the distance may make it difficult to see. “Do you have anybody who knows what they put in the soup on Thursdays? The cooks are always on about a secret ingredient when I ask. That sounds like a way easier job, and way tastier too!”
PREPARE FOR TROUBLE... (1/2) [Devil on the Shoulder]
He awoke today feeling as if whatever carnage may ensue would pass over his head, and yet, nursing the still cooling coffee did little to settle his nerves as the... Associates settled in beside him. He should have known when the first brew of the day had been far too sweet for his liking that it was only likely to get worse from there, and yet he can't help the sigh that leaves him as they box him in and keep him from escaping to his perch in the library. "Caspar, Linhardt... What in the name of the Goddess have you two decided to unleash now." A cough, putting back up the facade before either can call him on the lack of decorum in his naturally occurring sleep-deprived state, no, he won't allow the rather... insane sounding question from Caspar stop him in his tracks.
"To your first question, I would assume the census for domesticated animals outside of Hresvelg would indeed fall under the purview of Count Hevring, I myself am only privy to the five that live within the palace, and they are anything but domesticated." He of all people would know considering one of them had a rather nasty bite when he was younger, he's still convinced it holds a grudge for the incident in the gardens when they were younger, yet they would need more than polite conversation to get that particular story out of him.
A shiver runs down his spine, an unfamiliar sensation as his head turns to face the cook he can feel staring into the blackened husk of his soul, as if warning him that spilling secrets will see his access to the kitchens in the middle of the night stolen away from him. Hubert, despite swearing to do anything, is not quite prepared to give his access for information he has only stumbled upon. "The secret ingredient is a secret even I am not privy to, however I do believe there was another Nocturnal comrade who did see it swiftly utilised." A barefaced lie offered with a smile that only a mother could love in return for the ringing in his ears, and yet he doubts that was the end of this particular conversation.
When the snow all melts away
BoEL Spectating, w/ @encantresse
"i don't have any secrets, hubert," she replies resignedly. "i was never alone. what i saw and experienced, the others did too."
there was the trip into alliance territory — the back-and-forth with her parner, begging to spare the poor woman who'd knocked on death's door thrice. that illusory chamber she'd been trapped in with laslow and lukas, the twisted games they were forced to play, and the horrors of their pasts stripped bare for all to see. followed swiftly by pasithee's grim death, met by an uncharacteristically somber claude at her side, and a weeping linhardt in her arms. all witnesses burdened by shared grief.
"we haven't talked about these things since, is all."
the clash of weapons is what finally stirs her from the momentary haze. dorothea follows the movements of the eagles keenly, watching each stroke and strike of lances and swords, all while chewing on the riddle hubert lays out for her.
("ten daggers," he says. “ten daggers and a girl rising from dark to greet dawn. wings of an eagle, a past bygone. a boy. a girl.”) surely he refers to himself and edelgard. as for what those daggers entail and what depths of darkness he speaks of, she cannot say. the songstress merely draws the hand of cards offered close, knowing better than to dig for more information.
there was that other tidbit, too. roads of adrestia. so he'd been in adrestia, then? all this time? had he left them behind willingly...?
"it's not my place to say this," dorothea resumes slowly, "but i'll say it anyway. maybe edie should know. you do realize she didn't just lose a retainer the day you went missing, right? she lost someone dear to her. edie must have been terrified, hubert, but she never once let on."
SHE SAYS SHE WAS NEVER ALONE, and yet he will never cease to worry about her, about Ferdinand, Linhardt and Bernadetta and Caspar and Edelgard, yet he pulls himself out of the spiral before it can go any further. He has not seen the things they saw, nor will he ever claim to understand it, yet he will care for them in his own way regardless.
A shiver, feeling the brisk breeze blow low across the plains, prompting him to unravel the blankets and pass one to her while they watch. How long has it been since he sat in the audience like this? Spectated without feeling the want or need to involve himself, despite how distant his magic is from him. Perhaps he'll take up the sword again, use it as an excuse to keep the daggers close despite the risk it presents.
Will Edelgard judge him for what he's about to say, for letting someone into half of their twinned secret despite the risk it plays to the plans that wait. "Before I answer you... allow me to tell you a secret in earnest, to... contextualise why I had to go home." Home, a word said with such unmasked venom he's becoming almost dangerously cold to the world. "I... do not often speak of him, yet perhaps I should begin to. My father was... is... obsessed with power, to the point that he did something I can never forgive in his misbegotten belief that I would want to ever surpass a certain someone. My... trip... to Enbarr, away from Edelgard, was to ensure he could never grow so ambitious again."
Should he really admit this, to admit to standing so openly in defiance of the church, of the crests and every teaching the church has given? "I went to kill him, to commit the ultimate Patricide, and even still I couldn't bring myself to do it despite knowing what he'd done in his obsession with power and crests." A sigh, feeling that weight leave him, despite whatever consequences it may bring down around his head. "And now you know a truth hidden even from Edelgard."
Naga, this is a horrible excuse.
Her brain must have gone out the moment she saw him as
All she came up with was, Can you help me with getting a book from a high shelf? That won't buy them more than a mere minute or two.
She just couldn't resist the temptation to have him all for herself.
Just for a little bit.
Remind herself that someone now car- no loves her.
That she's no longer in that hell.
She clutches his hands tightly, wishing to feel his warmth to have that memory burned into her
She dares not go further; the closer they are, the harder it is to make excuses.
To not desperately fall into this.
"I'm sorry for bothering you; I just needed to make sure you're alright."
And maybe against some ugly, irrational paranoia that he's real.
HE HADN'T LEFT FOR THE MONTH-LONG EXPEDITION, instead resigned to a level of bedrest to allow the strain he'd put himself through by immediately signing up to represent the Black Eagles at the battle of Eagle and Lion. It'd left him with his thoughts for the most part, worries lurking out of sight, but it had been... almost necessary to get past the fear lingering in his mind, and the cold flashes whenever he tried to call upon Banshee. So instead he trained, eased himself into calling upon the tumultuous power that lurks beneath his skin until they returned.
He hadn't been in the monastery when the first group had returned, called away to deal with a minor issue on the borders of Hraesvelg that came with the role he was eventually expected to take over when the moment came. Hubert had left with such urgency he'd even forgotten to leave a notice on his door for any that would potentially come looking, only realising when he'd met a rather confused Tine with a face full of stubble to show for his time away.
He'd hardly dropped the bag off in his room before they'd spirited away to the library before anyone else could discover that it was unusually empty. The excuse is convenient of course, but it gives him precious time to spend with her before he throws himself head first into his duties once more, They hadn't had long together after the return from Pearl Shoals, nor can he begrudge her for taking the mission when the respect is well deserved from her.
"I am... quite well now." Said as an affirmation of health, yet it masks their love language as bare digits rub across the back of her hand, tugging her closer with little effort as if to reaffirm that he is here, and real. He will not ask, does not need to ask what happened when he can see so clearly the same shadow of the eyes that once haunted him, content to keep her close instead.
-> @tineoffreege
June Activity
Skill Changes:
Reason C -> C 1/2
Points Gained:
1 monthly
Threads dropped: None
Classes Mastered: Monk, Magic+ gained.
[ sit ] and [bandage ]
She doesn't ask. Not because she doesn't care or that she isn't curious; tonight is simply not the right moment.
(she will tell herself that many more times if allowed
even in moments like these, mind insisting on not weighting down their scarce moments with one another.)
His injuries are relatively superficial to what she's dealt with before.
A split lip, cut on his cheek, and a gash running down his right arm
(too deliberate to ever be simply an incident with some sharp object.)
Come tomorrow they will have to leave separately, the small cabin being outside the main city, hopefully distant enough they can return with different routes without being suspicious.
They only have tonight.
Simply being close won't cut it.
(not when she could lose him without knowing.)
Physical contact makes healing magic more potent.
(doesn't it?)
And the desire to bring him relief quickly does play a role.
But she doesn't just hold his hand.
She intertwines their fingers, feeling the injury mend under her touch.
She doesn't simply sit close; instead, she pushes him a bit further onto the bed, her legs curled on it and slightly spread open as she sits down with his thigh between them.
She pecks him on the cheek gently, the slight discolor of his skin fading away.
But she's oh so horrible at hiding the anxiety and the desperation as they kiss.
She forgets everything but him—the drumming heartbeat, the warm skin, the hopes and fears every fleeting touch hides.
They part suddenly in her eyes as she's reminded what breathing is.
Her gaze turns downwards, eyes glazed over but tears refusing to be shed.
She says quietly.
"Please take care of yourself."
[ Non-verbal memes ] // Accepting //
HE'S GOTTEN TOO CLOSE IN HIS HUNTS AGAIN, toyed with fate's edge too much to escape unscathed this time, and yet he looks all the more feral for it. Edelgard won't approve he suspects, and yet seeking out the notes on the experiments have long become a priority for his no matter the number of mercenaries they send after him. Hubert has never been in denial that he's playing with fire, nor does the prospect of injury faze him from his task when such lethal methods of retribution are hidden at his fingertips like a flame ready to be released, all consuming for whichever may stand in his way.
The retainer despises being seen like this, with the flickering faith fading into nothingness as he leans back against the headboard of the simple and nondescript bed. The Cabin officially belongs to some unknown viscount, a forged identity like the many he has worn as masks for the sake of the tasks that go unseen by daylight, yet for Hubert it remains a place of solace and sanctuary, somewhere to hide away while his body recovers from the latest duty he's content for people to think his lowly father has assigned to him.
"Hm?" He sounds more tired than usual, putting up no fuss as the bloodstained glove is removed from his arms, the pair is nondescript, more common among farmhands than nobility and yet it provides all the cover he needs, throws the hounds off his scent when he's seen without them. A guide, a ruse even as the woman continues to wordlessly bandage the latest in a long line of training accidents before he feels the warmth of lips against cold skin, pulling him back from his thoughts.
The buck of his leg is subtle, likened to the roll of his hips to shift her more comfortably towards him, moving his good arm so that she can settle properly against his chest. Wiping the unshed tears are awkward with a pinned hand, and yet he does so wordlessly, content in removing the water droplets before a kiss is placed softly against her forehead, trailing along her skin like the embrace of phantasmal butterflies, calm and serene.
"Shhhs, that can be discussed later, for now, it is best to take advantage of the time we have to relax in each other's embrace, my lady."
-> @tineoffreege
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nonverbal meme prompts ↪ they seem few & far between, so i tried to come up with as many scenarios as i could think of where dialogue wasn’t a necessary starting point. some are more uh specific than others / drabble-y, but they’re all dialogue-free ( tho ofc this does not necessarily extend to the response itself ). to reverse who sends what, send ‘ [ prompt ]+ ’ ! alter any as you see fit, & lemme know if anything’s unclear ♡
[ pull ] sender pulls receiver closer to them
[ touch ] sender places their hand affectionately on receiver
[ guide ] sender helps receiver through a difficult video game
[ lean ] sender leans on receiver
[ pierce ] sender helps receiver with a new piercing ( doing, aftercare, etc )
[ sit ] sender sits in receiver’s lap
[ spar ] sender pins receiver down in a practice fight
[ cook ] sender makes food for receiver
[ slide ] sender pushes an item across the table to receiver
[ kiss ] sender kisses ( lips, cheek, forehead, hand, etc )
[ lead ] sender leads receiver someplace
[ wound ] sender injures muse in a fight ( practice or real )
[ snap ] sender takes a photo of receiver ( candid or posed )
[ drape ] sender drapes their arm around receiver’s shoulders
[ bullet ] sender takes a bullet for receiver ( literal or figurative )
[ nap ] sender falls asleep against receiver
[ teeth ] sender bears teeth at receiver
[ trace ] sender traces one of receiver’s scars
[ cocktail ] sender makes / gives receiver a cocktail
[ comfort ] sender comforts receiver when they are upset / crying
[ bouquet ] sender surprises receiver with a bouquet
[ massage ] sender gives receiver a massage ( planned, spontaneous, full body, shoulder, etc )
[ mentor ] sender takes muse under their wing
[ tattoo ] sender helps receiver with a new tattoo ( doing, aftercare, etc )
[ dare ] receiver acts out a dare from sender
[ hug ] sender pulls receiver into a hug
[ phone ] receiver sees sender smiling at something on their phone
[ popcorn ] sender makes popcorn for a movie night
[ wake ] sender tries to wake receiver
[ groom ] sender tries to make receiver look more presentable
[ flower ] sender places a flower behind receiver’s ear
[ sad ] sender looks at receiver sorrowfully
[ playlist ] sender curates a playlist
[ fashion show ] sender tries to help receiver choose an outfit
[ shield ] sender steps between receiver and danger
[ bandage ] sender helps bandage up receiver’s wounds
[ duel ] muses get into a fight
[ fear ] sender finds receiver having a nightmare
[ hold ] sender holds receiver’s hand
[ bruise ] sender finds receiver with a bruise / tries to help receiver cover up a bruise
[ brush ] sender brushes / styles / dyes receiver’s hair
[ portrait ] receiver paints a portrait of receiver
[ assist ] sender helps the receiver with a task they’re struggling in
[ wow ] sender does something to really amaze receiver
[ glare ] sender is still hurt after an argument
[ roast ] muses roast marshmallows together / make s’mores
[ shoot ] muses attend a game of paintball
[ diary ] receiver writes a journal entry about sender ( maybe they find it ? )
[ dance ] sender whisks receiver onto to ‘ dance floor ’ ( can be actual or pretend )
[ rest ] sender rests their chin on receiver’s head / shoulder
[ manicure ] sender paints receiver’s nails
[ tuck ] sender tucks in receiver’s shirt, hair behind ear, etc
[ chin ] sender lifts receiver’s chin up
[ lap ] sender puts their feet in receiver’s lap
[ write ] receiver writes sender a note
[ play ] muses play a board game / card game together
[ glance ] receiver catches sender looking at them
[ ill ] sender takes care of receiver when they are unwell
[ hearth ] sender lights a fire
[ tap ] sender taps receiver on the shoulder
[ bake ] muses bake together
[ read ] sender reads to receiver
[ study ] sender tries to help receiver study
[ push ] sender pushes receiver in anger
[ skill ] receiver tries to assist sender in learning a new skill
[ coated ] receiver finds sender covered in blood
[ gesture ] sender motions for receiver to follow them
[ downpour ] receiver finds sender out in the rain
murder on the dance floor... maybe
Pearlescent - Niles - Housecleaning [Any Skill +1]
WORKING IN UNISON WITH THE KNIGHTS IS NEVER A GOOD IDEA IN HIS EXPERIENCE, and yet this particular Knight has become a sort of confident since their meeting that night in the Viscount's personal library. Pearl Shoals has sparked suspicion amongst the monastery of late, and yet to Hubert, that suspicion was only second best to the number of spies he'd tried and failed to insert into the idyllic community. Yet... Niles had been almost invaluable in figuring a way to investigate it under the guise of searching for this supposed relic that was too valuable to be left untouched.
There is an understanding of sorts amongst their types, that places concealed harder than even a mage's study is a place better investigated, and so this plan had been born of the flames of war's lasting marks. A noble, a would be mage had found themselves short of staff, leaving openings for which they had miraculously become suitable for entering into employment, and a means of which to root out the secrets that linger beneath the soils.
"Niles." A name in greeting, tying the hair behind his head in hopes of obscuring any of his many identifying features. They've gone over this plan again and again, debated the merits and faults of immersing themselves into the depths of the household until a plan had hatched by the candlelight. "It would seem the Master and Mistress of the house are... away for the month, and the servants have taken to running the household, this should provide... ample time to familiarise ourselves." A subtle smirk, even as the knife is tucked into the depths of his sleeves, the look in his eye is oh so telling for what he intended to do once they were inside.
"A pity, if only they had offered a map of the estate, we would not have gotten so... lost."
-> @nohrianoutlaw
No More Cheese Wheels
Pearlescent - Finn - Knights and Chivalry [Lance +1]
HUBERT HAS NEVER BEEN THE TYPE TO FEEL OBLIGATED TO DESTROY BOOKS, yet the tome in circulation of late has him tempted, not only has it somehow become a cultural phenomenon, but the ideas inside are frankly obscenely stupid and liable to lead some of the more... Impressionable fools in possession of it to a quick death. Even now, he can feel yet another one of his rants coming on as he passes faculty dissecting the book like it has suddenly become some sacred text overnight as he moves towards the library.
The retainer can only hope the madness hasn't managed to spread to the last of his sanctuaries, and yet that audacious yellow cover is staring him in the face as he enters, testing his resolve as the librarian, and their decorum, exits the room. He hates this, hates the curiosity as he stalks towards the table where a copy of the book lies absent, intent on writing such a scathing review that the author has little choice than to pull it from every store on the continent out of sheer embarrassment at being rebuked by a noble.
He's barely a page, a page in when the older faculty member is seated beside him, baring witness to the quill frantically scribbling down rebuke after rebuke until that line, that accursed, goddess forsaken line is front and centre. Hubert has bared witness to far too many would be knights try to invoke it today, carrying precious cheese wheels from the kitchen as if they were worth more than gold in trying to evoke this fake knight's idea of chivalry. It is only at that line, that insistence that to fascinate a lady a knight merely needs to offer cheese, that his hands are striking towards his waist in search of the tome that often hangs there. "My apologies, but this cannot be allowed to continue, the book and its nonsensical ideas are better destroyed!"
-> @livingrief
Carve a path to happiness
sword + prompt .
The weather is nice, the wind is gentle, and the clouds are sparse.
Although she can barely see it from the large, ornately decorated canopy the event will take place under.
In case of an ambush, the strings could be cut, so the tent falls on guests, creating panic and, as such, an opening. Can't they just have the ceremony inside?
No, they're nobility and, as such, need to waste money in every way possible even while they expect an assassination attempt.
Okay, she should give them some credit; they know that sometimes the best choice of a bodyguard is the less apparent one.
She's glancing around nervously. Normal, right? That's her job for this day.
Except while she is on high alert in general, her mind can't help, but she is searching for a specific figure amongst the crowd of staff and guests alike.
Brown hair and fashion that are foreign to what she's used to off him. Also, it's not like you can cover up being freakishly tall.
And there are good clues; it makes it far easier to pick him from the crowd, but it isn't what confirms his identity to her. That would be the red ribbon tied around his wrist.
The ribbon she gave him.
"Fionn !!!"
It's not his name, but the joy in her voice isn't any less apparent; it matters not the words spoken but the intent.
She's at his side, quickly, eagerly grasping at his hand before leaning against his shoulder.
Her heart races, such public displays of affection are normally out of their reach.
This is all the more reason she and Hubert should cherish those fleeting moments of bliss.
"I'm so glad to see you."
SOME HAVE THE CHEEK TO CALL HIM PARANOID, and yet it would seem that the Bride and Groom have him beat in terms of this on the winter's day. The only detail of the task that had floated across his desk was that both feared someone would attempt to crash it... yet it also gave him an opportunity like none else, merely writing back to the concerned family that he would require two suitably blank invitations as a deposit for their services.
Forging the signature of the bride and groom is easier than he'd had expected, and yet the secrecy was a necessary part to ensure that the security they requested was deftly given. "Fionn" was a background he rarely used, the son of some minor house within a day's ride of Fhirdiad, and yet suiting his purpose perfectly as he strolls through the crowds. His tome would be far too obvious, instead Hubert opted for the dagger hidden in his sleeve, a path to the supposedly happy couple always lingering at the back of his mind.
The shout brings him from his thoughts easily, the voice unmistakable despite the difference in appearance to the woman he knows it to belong to. "Miss Liza!" A smile, genuine and sickly sweet, his gaze falling to the familiar ribbon they'd exchanged not long ago. There's been a trend of late amongst the commoners, to display their affections openly, and yet he found himself thankful to Fionn's faux standing as he shifts just enough to bring the intertwined fingers to his lips so scandalously, so freely, that there is little mistake in his gratefulness for her accompanying him.
"The pleasure is mine, my lady." Truth intertwined with fiction, a paper trail out of Fhirdiad establishing that Fionn had been helplessly smitten with the woman from a foreign land, eagerly awaiting their reunion at his distant, third removed Cousin's wedding. "A shame we couldn't have come together, I would have enjoyed escorting you." Tempting words, emotions hidden in their depths as intertwined hands hang between them.
"It seems none of my dear cousin's reckless friends have decided to cause a ruckus... but enough about them, I believe she intends to throw the bouquet when the sun meets the horizon, believing whoever catches it to be the next to get married..."
PLOTTING CALL, BOARD: PEARLESCENT
Regarding Knights and Chivalry [Lance +1] - Having seemingly returned to his old self, Hubert has all but leapt at the opportunity to debase the obscure, outlandish and outright dangerous methods detailed within.
Clingy Lover - Hubert is annoyed, more than you've ever seen him, and for what and why? Can the two of them keep her from being a nuisance, will his temper get the better of him? Well...
-> Unaffil mission board:
Housecleaning- [Any Skill +1] // Requires unaffiliated muse. - Hubert grew up in Enbarr's high society, and believe him, the easiest way to get information out of any noble household is to befriend the servants. The way he acts gives the impression he's done something like this before, but that doesn't make sense, right? Right?? Who knows what secrets slip from loosened lips...
-> As is the norm, feel free to IM or Ping me and we'll work out the specifics of it all~
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STATUS: Passed!
Skill Points Acquired: 1 Stat Changes: Sword E+ -> Sword D
respite
⤷ ethereal ball 2025: first half.
“ I wasn't very good at socializing when I was younger. I apparently had a mean expression and a bad attitude to most at first, ” Leif admits as he takes the anchor left between them, affixing it to his own wrist. “ But I can't really get away with it forever... And there's someone I want to stop burdening with doing all my talking for me. I need to do my part for her sake. ”
He could speak for all the people who are so much more eloquent and charming than him, but in this moment, though he speaks of his own previous faults, Leif finds himself too caught up in his goals to feel right wallowing in what defeats he has. Perhaps it is a fault of holding enough hope to keep looking forward. Perhaps it is the pressure of his rivalry and the need to maintain it for other's sakes. Or perhaps it's just feeling like if he did his usual, he'd just be spoiling the mood now.
Whatever the case, the result is the Leif that speaks before Hubert now, lending the impression he does.
“ I hope your praise ends up right. There's so much I must do; I cannot let my path end here. I'm sure you have your own hard path ahead of you, enrolling in the academy as you have. You have your own reasons to learn to get stronger then. ”
And even if he doesn't, the world that Leif wishes to change for the better requires the contribution of all those who dwell in it. If Leif's path cannot end anytime soon, neither can anyone else's including Hubert.
The future was made by all their hands after all.
When Hubert brings up a specific memory of their time at the bookmarked location, Leif's eyes light up in recognition. “ Ah, so you've met the real Mitama now! Or at least seen her. I can't imagine what her mimic acted like, and I'll never know for certain the whole of it since it was you who had seen that mimic and not me but...
“ Was she anything like a Deadlord? ” Leif asks. “ Back home, powerful dark mages can make enemies out of the dead. They're near perfect replicas but... they are very quiet. It's like any personality is taken out of them entirely in exchange for pure power. I've heard their masters call them just by numbers rather than their names too. ”
THE MAGE FINDS THAT HARD TO BELIEVE, that the young man before him could be considered in any way standoffish, still he supposes it is often the most talkative that rise above the hardships to become the way they are. Yet, the information offered gave him a valuable insight to the mind of the younger leader, at least he suspects him of being a leader, one coming into their own or even already has. "Few can recognise their flaws so easily, to be able to do so is commendable." It is not his place to offer advice to anyone, and yet he cannot help the words that venture forth from him so easily. "Tell her, whoever she is, that you appreciate her for doing it, show it to her if needs be, I suspect the earnestness will be conveyed in the way you wish."
Leif feels, in a sense, to be a kindred spirit. Someone who feels the obligations of social norms despite wishing they could be cast aside like a cloak is cast onto a rack to dry after heavy rains, so Hubert does not judge for what may be perceived as a lack of decorum by the contingent of vultures that oft flock in search of power or money, instead calmly consuming the tea with a genuine pleasure for company that feels no true desire for the false niceties one must indulge in.
"Be careful not to let yourself be consumed by responsibility, so many have fallen prey to the weight on their shoulders merely because the goal in sight feels distant." His path... "To protect those I was unable to before, perhaps, but the academy is little more than a means to an end in that regard. A place to keep the temptations of a quick route to power in check, lest they become consuming like the simplest flames."
No... he cannot see Leif falling to that temptation, he has seen the strength of character before, the will to fact the depths of the unknown with little but the promises of a cat to show for reasoning. Perhaps, just perhaps, the words he offers are a warning to himself, and yet that is not a thought he dwells upon, allowing the conversation to shift further afield than linger any longer on the consequences of failure.
"We spoke for a time, I found myself quite thankful she was nothing like the mimic faced, Valaura is far scarier when it is turned against you that I wish not for a repeat performance in the immediate future." He watches the light of interest spark, pondering on the term Deadlord before filing it away for study later, especially when the description offers a hint of worry to his mind. "I believe she was meant to be a warning, a fate that awaited should we have continued on the path that lead to those twisted mimics. That, after all, is the only reason I can offer for both her and Edelgard appearing within those pages that warned of ruin once more."
