swansong

ventusanimae:

There is some commotion up there, and Merric strains his hearing to make out what is being spoken about. Under normal circumstances he would consider it rude to eavesdrop, but in this particular situation, what is here to do? He needs to get out of here one way or another, so he has to know if he’s getting help.

The conversation he overhears is… an interesting one to say the least. Merric knows many people consider their beloved animals to be part of their family, but he usually did not consider that in this kind of sense.

Which, if there really exists couples’ therapy for people and animals, was probably quite ignorant of him. Maybe this is something to ask Est about the next time he runs into her. Not that he knows of Est having issues with her pegasus, but, just out of curiosity. Maybe she’ll know. At any rate, he’ll ask her long before he asks freakin’ Lord Michalis.

Amidst all these random thoughts, the handle of a shovel is extended towards him; the most makeshift ladder or rope he can imagine, but it will do if Cynthia is strong enough to lift him up with some assistance from his side; which he is not entirely sure about, but they will have to see—

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

… or perhaps not - the Mage’s eyes instinctively widen and he takes a step back as the girl lets out a shocked scream and her face begins to rapidly approach. The loud snap that follows immediately after rings in his ears in an unpleasant manner, and (perhaps unlike her) he is very relieved a moment later, finding out its source was the shovel and not her bones.

Though that does leave the, uh, matter of the hole that is now their shared trap.

“I’m fine. Are you okay?” He asks right back, just in case. In spite of the circumstances, there is a light, perhaps a shade pitiful smile on his face. “Was that your pegasus? Sounds like she’s a trickster.”

He pauses, looking upwards towards the light. “I guess we’ll have to get out of here in another way.” Bringing his hand to his mouth in a thoughtful gesture, he considers their options, before looking back up at her.

“I might be able to use Wind magic to help us climb out of here, maybe? Not strong enough to hurt us, but just to give us a push upwards and make it easier.” The question is, with Cynthia’s winged mount waiting on the ground above them… “Though that depends a bit on how okay your pegasus is with a Wind spell going off nearby. I know many pegasi and wyverns are scared of that. What do you think?”

oh, her poor shovel. it hardly knew what was going to happen to it. it should’ve, by all circumstances, lived to have a long and healthy life. it could’ve shoveled dozens of holes more, but all that remains is the splinters in her hands and the dirtied up spade. of course, it’s just a shovel, so it’s not like cynthia’s going to cry about it for real though. dusting off her skirts, pegasus knight gives the other a cheerful thumbs up in reply. “i’m just fine. a little bruised,” her hand falls at her heart, “in here mostly.”

glancing back up at the top of the hole at the mention of her pegasus, cynthia grumbles. arms cross over her chest. 

“yeah, trickster. she’s just a jerk,” she replies, shaking her head. but, she should’ve known better than to mention magnolia. magnolia was her first pegasus and all, but it was buttercup that’d by and large carried her through nearly every encounter that she’d had to face since she arrived at the monastery. a special gift that she’d gotten during their first major mission to sreng. after all that time, you’d have thought that she’d be less like that, but she’s sure that it’s probably just lady pegasus things.

“women, right?” cynthia jokes, laughing.

scratching her cheek, she glances around her to see if there’s another way out herself before the green-haired stranger offers a new idea. “wind magic?” cynthia makes no effort to hide the glance up and down. well, maybe she should’ve expected that. the guy was all magey-looking. that was to say he looked like he missed arm and leg day every day for his entire life. unless, arm day was like lugging around books and stuff. “oh, sure! that’s a great idea. we’d just need to get something that we could use for,” she flexes her fingers. a look down. then, back up. “here, we can use this,” cynthia picks up the spade, “to get a grip on the wall and climb up and out!”

“don’t worry about buttercup. she’s been through worse.” like a giant eagle, who she's pretty sure is three times as strong as any wind spell.

luminousrider:

Altena doesn’t mind being assigned night patrol duty here at the monastery. It’s quiet save for a few chirping crickets and she would probably still be up at this hour anyway. Besides, it’s rather nice to know that this school for fancy nobles has no issue putting them to work every now and again. Some of them that she’s met could sure use a taste of responsibility.

The Thracian princess sighs and stretches her arms over her head as she leisurely makes her way through the monastery’s grounds. It’s shaping out to be another calm night.

Until suddenly it’s not.

“IT’S GOING TO EAT ME!”

Umber eyes widen and her grip on the shaft of the Gae Bolg tightens. “Don’t worry, I’m coming!” Altena calls back, hoping the voice can hear her and is at least reassured a bit.

Her sprinting comes to a halt when she reaches Cynthia’s location. This is very much not what she expected. Not that she’s even sure what she should expect. A pigtailed girl stuck behind a heavy metal grate is definitely not it.

“W-what are you doing!? No, nevermind. We have to get you out of there.”

“that’s great! that’s a good idea!” cynthia screams back, her eyes wide with the terror until she realizes belatedly that the stranger’s actually much closer to her than she thought. so, in a mildly quieter tone, she adds, “oh, nice to meet you by the way! sorry, this is a little—” hand rotates idly on her wrist as if to gesture at the whole of the situation before she sticks her free hand through one of the holes in the grate in greeting. “i’m cynthia!”

the guttural roar of the amphibian creature rips through the night again and pegasus knight presses herself as hard to the grate as she possibly can.

“nevermind! we can talk later! um, so i’m not sure what you can see! this grate used to be a lot looser, but i think they fixed it while i was gone.” she yanks on the metal frame as if to reiterate her point. “do you think you can use anything to pry it off?” head turns slightly to check back down at the waters running beneath her before cynthia turns back to face the other. “hey, that uh! that lance there! the one you’re holding!” sure, the gae bolg. a holy lance. to be used as a prybar!

brilliant.

liegebound​:

Mission Task Board: There are rumors that one of the students dropped their axe at a nearby lake. Out came an ethereal woman, holding both a golden axe and a silver axe, to ask them which one they had dropped. When they had said it was neither and instead chose their boring old axe, they were rewarded with an axe worthy of a true legendary hero! If there really is a lady handing out axes at the lake, then maybe it’s worth a shot trying to snag yourself something just as great. Or maybe you’ll dive into the lake, searching for it yourself. After all, she has to be getting these axes from SOMEWHERE, right? [Grants Axe +1]  // @cynthero

    A young woman rises from the lake and what can one do but scream? Kent had heard the rumors, even gone down here to investigate them, but to actually see someone emerge, breaking the lake’s surface…

She is not ethereal. She is not a maiden as separated from reality so as to remind one more of fiction. No… She is…

“ Cynthia Amélie Delmirev of the Golden Deer?!?! ”

Her name is one he only knows from the class roster when he has had to sub in for one of their classes before, but she was one of the easier faces to recall even if his experience with said house was very little. She was, in the most sincerest of ways to say it, quite the character, rambunctious to the point of potentially causing a headache.

And here she is living up to that reputation again, axes in hand as the water drips from her hair and garb.

“ What in the world do you mean to be d— No, nevermind that! Just… ”  Kent heaves a heavy sigh, rubbing his temple. Terse words accompany an outstretched hand and a put-upon look.  “ Out of the lake now, Miss. You’ll catch a cold like that. ”

legendary weapons where she came from were an inherited thing. and, well; cynthia wasn’t allowed to touch the falchion anymore because she was “dangerously stupid.” owain had one too, but that was more because he kept naming all his weapons. so, she’s not sure if that’s really a legendary weapon or if it was only legendary because he said it was legendary. she hadn’t thought there was ever any possibility for her to get one, but lo and behold that when she should arrive at the monastery that everyone and their mom had one!

all the big fancy noble houses in fodlan had one. some other nobles from the visiting countries had ‘em too! and even some of the commoners had some big fancy thing that they called theirs. what about her, huh? what about cynthia?

she deserved a fancy weapon too!

not that weapons made the soldier, she knows, but wouldn’t it be impressive? it’s the reason she’d come down to the lake in the first place, but it figures it’d just be a rumor. which, well, then led to this after an impressive amount of figurative gymnastics. 

cynthia stares back from her position in the middle of the lake from behind a crudely-fashioned pair of goggles and a long, hollowed out reed in her mouth as she stares back at the stranger from across the way. lifting her goggles up, pegasus knight rubs the water away from her eyes as she tucks axes into her free arm. oh, it’s that one professor! kind of a square, that guy. he’d substituted for her classes before.

what’s his name again?

braveryinblue:

“Sorry to break the news, but your Timmy’s a deadbeat,” the man’s untoward replacement announces, grim, restless, as he stands in the room. It’s been decorated much in the fashion of a village home, he suspects, quaint and oddly domestic… Kind of cozy, even, though he can’t for the life of him fathom the why of it all.

But none of that is the real issue here.

The real issue here is Timmy’s stuck him here to wait for Cynthia. ‘Can’t leave the room unattended,’ he’d said, and begged for Hector to stay before bolting through the door without leaving him a hell of a lot of choice. And so, he had stayed.

(He may be brusque, but he isn’t completely without a conscience, damn it.)

Anyway.

He presumes this newest force bursting into the room is Cynthia, but who knows. He doesn’t really care to ask, truth be told.

“… Hmph. Well, now that you’re back, I’ll be off to the training grounds then.” He makes to move past her but stops just short of the doorway, scratching at the nape of his neck. He clears his throat, glancing back. “Good, uh… good luck with your… kids?”

What would one be meant to call them? They weren’t children but Hector’s (thankfully) short lived experience with tiny pegasus foals had left him nothing short of horrified, and utterly convinced of one thing only: baby animals were pure evil, one and all.

(And yes, Cynthia: kids, plural. Gods damnit, Timothy, how could you…!?)

the look in her eyes says it all. the betrayal, the outrage—she’d known for a long time that timmy wasn’t happy with her. but, she’d thought that maybe it was just one of those rough patches that she’d heard about in a domestic partnership. she hadn’t thought that it would have become something that he felt was something worth leaving her over. a deadbeat, says the man left in his stead. cynthia half-thinks to start wailing or cursing his name, but then remembers at the last minute that they’d never really agreed to anything.

it was really more that—

well, timmy wanted a pet wyvern and was too lazy to take care of it. she wanted a pet wyvern because she thought it’d be cool but also because she’d definitely 100% take care of it! but, it would be hard still taking care of this thing without anyone here to help; she shakes her head, her hand at her cheek. she couldn’t very well ask lucina or heck, inigo. owain was definitely out of the question and—head snaps up when the man that’d been left to apparently deliver timmy’s message announces his departure.

“nuh uh; hold on a second there, buster brown!” she shouts, whipping around toward the door with the baby sling and egg following in the motion.

cynthia produces a stool, climbs up on it, then leans in to inspect his features. he was kinda big, huh? big guy like that couldn’t be an archer. all the archers she knew were all willowy. same with mages, those kinds of guys could get blown over in a stiff breeze. this guy—she lightly raps her knuckles against his chest without waiting to ask for permission. had to be a sword or axe guy, definitely not a lancer either.

nabataprophet​:

“…Yes,” she agrees readily. “I think you are…awesome…? You are a…very brave person.” For all that Sophia wants to experience new things, she doesn’t think she could stand up there as easily as the other girl does. She would be too afraid to even move, let alone twirl and swing so recklessly. However, Sophia doesn’t need to be able to see the future to see that the more this girl moves around, the more unsteady she becomes. Would reaching out a hand help to steady the stilts?

Alas, Sophia has never been blessed with speed. Her reactions are much like her manner of speaking, that is to say, extremely slow. She doesn’t get a chance to try it out before a voice is shouting at her from above to watch out. When did that girl get on the bookshelf? Sophia watches the wood fall as if in slow motion and, wait, isn’t it getting awfully clo—

—THUD. The plank beans her right on the head and she crumples to the floor as easily as one of the pages from the books surrounding them might.

“…Ow.”

“gasp!” cynthia gasps, her hands covering her mouth as she pitches down at the hip to try and get a better look at the injury. tries continues to be the theme of the afternoon since her leg’s gotten firmly lodged in one of the gaps between the railing now. it was a good thing that she’d done her stretches before she got onto these things because cynthia reckons she’d have pulled something if she hadn’t! “are you okay? gosh, i’m so sorry; i didn’t mean to hit you like that!” she frowns, glancing around at the rest of the library that’s been quiet since she’d arrived ( which made sense because libraries were always quiet ). 

well, she’s sure no one would be mad if she just—

cynthia leans down, unbuckling the fastener for the leg she stood on. boot slips out freely and she grins, only to realize it at the last second that she’d started to slip. the other wooden pole gives way from beneath her without the traction, descending to the library floor with a heavy thud, which meant cynthia now dangled by her foot still fastened into the other one. “lucky i’m wearing shorts today or this would be a really bad time for everyone!” she chirps, pigtails dangling as she pushes down her skirt. maybe she just needs to—

she strains for the table beneath her. maybe if she just! 

huff. 

exclted:

Happy as she might be to have a dear friend reunited with her, Lucina had nearly forgotten how… herself Cynthia was.

Which is on her, really. She had agreed to accompany the other before she had heard the actual situation for which she was doing so. That had been her first mistake. By the time she heard the word ‘unicorn’ for the first time, it was too late.

And then she couldn’t stop hearing it.

“Yes, I’m sure they do,” idle agreement to her companion’s enthusiasm as they and their party begin their little excursion into the woods. Unicorns had never quite been an object of Lucina’s interest, even as a child. She never really understood the fascination behind them, either. Were they not just… horses with an extra part?

Also, were there not far more pressing matters?

Lucina doesn’t wish to rain on her friend’s little parade by reminding her that there are missing children and that, by the looks of things, her beloved unicorn is at fault for that.

Head turns just in time to watch as Cynthia’s face contorts into probably the least comfortable expression she has ever seen and (thank Naga) she makes a decision before Lucina herself has to try and find a nice way to explain that maybe weirding out a unicorn isn’t the best ploy at befriending it.

“If we see a unicorn,” with extra emphasis, because that still isn’t what they are supposed to be after here, “I do not think it will need any extra convincing to be your friend, Cynthia.” 

Because she is pretty sure that somewhere in some myth it is stated that unicorn’s can read a person’s soul or something. And there are perhaps none as pure and kind as Cynthia’s.

“if, shmif!” she retorts, pausing for a second when cynthia realizes belatedly that schmif isn’t a word but fails at thinking of another word that could suitably replace it. turning to face lucina, she adds: “you’ve gotta be a little optimistic, lucy! the minute you decide the world is full of possibilities, it’s better! like those kids!” see? she was paying attention during the mission briefing. as addled as she was by the thought of a unicorn. no screw ups, just like she promised! well, not to lucina, but herself. arms cross behind her back, cynthia carefully side-stepping branches and rocks in their path. 

“i’m sure they’re fine; just got a little lost in the woods and probably sitting still and waitin’ for us to come get ‘em!”

and that was the truth that she hopes for, though cynthia’s not so empty-headed to know of the very distinct possibility that wouldn’t be the case either. her expression softens, the corners of her lips tilting down into a smaller smile. there was a possibility that they were scared or lost or hurt just as much as it was possible they were fine too. for their sake, she hopes it is the case that they’d really run into a unicorn and just lost track of time rather than get stuck with some horrible people with nefarious intentions.

she nearly stumbles, but catches herself at the last minute.

unmasqued:

          To fly was to sing without words— springtime’s unrelenting gift. The skies were speckled in careless clouds, divvied up in patchwork streaks over the blue expanse. After much time in solitude, he had gathered reports on a number of his old comrades gathered in this old hot spot, and his one consolation to coming back was that the skies had been beautiful when he had left. He was the picture of indifference up until Minerva began to buffet the wind beneath her wings, taking with her, his tension. If he had to return to watch over them, at least it was under the pretense that he was free. 

          Blasting through the air at breakneck speed, his finely pressed lips pronged into a smirk. He pressed his legs smoothly into the divot of Minerva’s toned torso, commanding the very sky to bend beneath their gravity. The gales had his mantle cloak lash out from behind him, blowing his locks into a furor. Torrents were his peace— and the storm, his will.

          “Faster, Minerva!” With all the gravitas of a man on the run. Gerome directed their conjoined wills into three mid-air flips, welcoming the way his stomach felt of free-fall. Reins clasped masterfully to guide her as she guided him. This thrill was taught (it was trained into him), but now he owed his life to the chase. Breaking over the speed of tension, the winds were no longer working against them, but deluging his veins in sheer, unadulterated electricity. He was all but lightning, until a surge of brown pigtails pierced through his trance. 

                                                           “GODS. CYNTHIA?!” 

          It was just like her, to strike a hammer against his lightning and send him into disarray. Her flailing body plummeted past Minerva, and sent his dearest into a momentary swing. Minerva was sharper than him, more experienced than him. She knew a shooting star when she saw one, and knew the chase was brighter than any dream.  Kicking into Minerva’s stirrups, Gerome dove into a near vertical descent, piercing the winds with an ever-familiar scold that boomed, irascibly.  “Don’t be a goddamn fool! Are you trying to get yourself killed!?” 

          His gloved hands reached out to her, composure only shattering for a second before he had everything back in control. Minerva angled into wave, arching below her so she could simply scoop the star out of the sky. Knitting his legs against Minerva’s chest, he let go of the reins and opened his arms. To temper a shooting star, one must catch it once it falls. 

          Firmly, tightly, he snatched Cynthia by the torso, wrapping carefully so she wouldn’t shatter. Her entire trajectory tugged their careening ship until it steadied. Minerva screeched in greeting, unshaken by the unexpected guest, and flared towards Cynthia’s new steed by intuition. Must return what was lost, after all. “Did you lose your mind when I was gone? Where have you been?!”

          “If you cared for your life you wouldn’t-” Trust me with it. “Just jump like that!”

There goes the pretense. Since when would he ever be free of this?

@cynthero​ - can I get a return? I think I still have the receipt

she wonders if this is how buttercup felt. it wasn’t as if though she never thought about it. of course, she did. cynthia was a pegasus knight to her core, a position she inherits from her mother and her mother’s mother ( at least she thinks she does, she’s never really asked about her grandmother and asking the sumia of now seems a little uncomfortable ) so flying came second nature to her.

but it isn’t as if though she knows that the only reason she can fly is because buttercup allows her to and because magnolia taught her how. it feels a little like that now, she thinks as the wind catches in her fluttering pigtails and her arms are stretched out to either side of her, legs forming a clumsy v as she falls.

it’s not the first time that she’s fallen through the sky.

the first time—she’d let go as she released herself from magnolia’s saddle, striking true on a fellow knight before landing on her trusty steed once more. there’d been so many times since then, but this time is different because she falls with no certainty that her pegasus will catch her or the target of her proposed affection. what’s more, there isn’t an ounce of dignity in her fall as her cheeks wibble and wobble in her descent, teeth gnashing and bared as she screams. her eyes sting and tears collect at their base. she thinks she hears gerome, but can’t quite make out the words past the whistling air.

                                                                                   and then she’s caught! 

air leaves her lungs this time, not from the pressure of gravity but from the laughter as tension leaves her tense form and pegasus knight leans heavily into her old friend. hair is askew, pigtails having nearly been yanked out of their ties and her shoulders nearly out of their sockets. she lifts her hands to her hair, sweeping down messy bangs before she adjusts her seat on minerva’s back. a light pat to the wyvern’s neck as an apology before she turns and does the same to gerome’s cheek.

“aw c’mon, gerome! i knew you’d catch me.” 

not that she meant to put him in a position where he’d have to, but—

midoriwings:

A cooking buddy. She expected to find her way about the kitchen alone, but a friend will be nice! Even if she’s not the best at making them. 

Vanessa doesn’t comment on the notary at the door. She returns Cynthia’s smile, realizing she may just have to treat the other girl like an overzealous new recruit. How would Syrene handle it? She’d probably be stressing out and bar Cynthia from doing anything other than passing ingredients. That simply won’t do—maybe dough rolling would be a good starting point. 

“Oh, I’m hardly a chef,” Vanessa replies, flipping through the cookbook. “But I’d like to learn…especially for—“ Her cheeks warm and she bites her bottom lip. “Right. Let’s start with the dough.” 

One finger runs along the page, eyes skimming the headings until she finds the entry for pizza. Some new foreign dish, she thinks, silently counting off the ingredients. “We’ll need water, sugar, and yeast.” She looks back up at Cynthia. “And a mixing bowl! You’ve been here longer than I have; where would I find one?” 

A beat passes before she realizes Cynthia might not know either. If she had to sign a contract to get back into the kitchen… 

“I’ll start measuring out the ingredients in the meantime.” 

she can’t help but beam with excitement. this was her time to prove herself! for real, it was her chance to prove that she could behave herself and be helpful. there’s not even an ounce of hesitation in vanessa’s voice. she just asked her! to help! without first telling her to be careful or avoid tripping or not burn anything ... it was just a question! a simple ask for a bowl and that was easy enough. that was something that cynthia could do with her eyes closed, though she doesn’t think she will try to do that this time ‘cause that’s reckless.

and cynthia is an adult now, so she doesn’t pull stupid stunts like that.

oh, she didn’t even realize that she’d spaced out. “oh, got it!” she grins, lightly jabbing the other girl in the side. she saw that little look! ah, young love—it’s too early for her to pry or offer her own expert tutelage. she’d learned from the best and celica was well on her way to getting married. or, well. actually, maybe she was already married. she’d forgotten to ask, but she really should check in next time that she saw her or her fiance. scurrying off, cynthia opens and closes a handful of the bottommost cabinets and finds nothing before her attention eventually shifts up higher. “now, why would they do that?”

heh, probably to keep it out of the children’s hands.

and she, was not a child anymore.

heh.

clambering up onto one counter, cynthia produces a large mixing bowl from one of the higher shelves. “and vanessa said she needed water, sugar and yeast, bup, bup, buhhhhh! where is that, oh, here—” plates and dishes clatter. “water, check! flour! check! yeast, why do you get yeast? haha, because it rhymes ... get it, it rhymes with feast and that’s what a pizza is!” a pause. “i think.” she doesn’t actually know what a pizza is. strolling up back to the other pegasus knight, she hands off the bowl with all the ingredients in tow. the bag of flour and the little jar of yeast are floating in the water, though.

laslow:

Her lack of reply doesn’t hurt the way it once would have—for all the ways he regresses into a lovesick teen around her, most of his hard won maturity remains. One corner of his mouth lifts in a barely there smile at her blush. He always adored it when she got flustered, no matter how brusquely she’d brush him off after. 

Champagne flute finds a new home resting on a tray conveniently passing by, freed arm unfurling in the distance between them. Tonight, he wants to pretend their lives took a different turn, if only for the length of one dance. He knows he’ll indulge in the fantasy alone. Imagining they’re back home, at some ball held in her honor as he proudly stands at her side will only earn him more of her ire. Lucina finally faces him, brow faintly scrunched in a way that means she’s preparing to scold him, as if reading every thought flitting through his sunshine-filled head. 

Something must show in his eyes, glittering there alongside poorly hidden affection, that shifts her attitude. Laslow ignores the resignation coloring her tone. At least she accepted his invitation, fingers stiff around his palm. He prays she ignores how warm his skin grows, anxiety rearing its ugly claws as he leads her onto the shining dance floor. 

He licks suddenly dry lips before facing her, closing the distance between them with a hand resting lightly on the small of her back. “Trust me, Lucina,” Laslow whispers. Pushing aside everything—the nerves, the bittersweet nostalgia replacing the taste of champagne on his tongue—he throws up the only defense he knows.

Lips curve into a soft smile as he steps back, easily joining the flow of dancers around them. All concerns about their mission fade away, buried under the swell of a violin quartet. For a moment his stupid imagination and reality collide. The skirts of her dress flare as he gently spins them around, exhilaration glowing pink on flushed cheeks. 

A tiny spark of disappointment cuts through the joy when he notices her looking back across the ballroom. He knows things are weird, an awkward tension crackling in the air whenever they occupy the same room. Yet she can’t let it slide for one dance— 

An eye closes, smile wilting into a grimace. “Heh, at least it wasn’t the heel of your shoe! Just means you need more practice, b—“ He bites his tongue, hard, preventing the forbidden nickname butterfly from flying free. The shreds of her stiff grace will surely fall away then. “Before we dance again!” 

The pressure at her back disappears, grip around her hand tightening. It’s a poorly veiled distraction tactic, but desperate times. Laslow spins her one more time, own weight shifting upon her return to his arms. Free hand again finds her back and he’s dipping her, strands of sapphire hair coming free from her bun. 

He effortlessly pulls her upright after a few heartbeats, breathless smile again on his features. “See? Told you we can have fun.”  

Smooth, Laslow. 

you can cut the tension with a knife, @cynthero

“well, this cape isn’t nearly as long, so i won’t trip over it! definitely!” it was really more of a probably in practice, but she didn’t mean or want to trip over owain’s little costume. “sorry, odie,” least that’s what she’s heard people refer to him as before. though, the words feel wrong in her mouth the same way that laslow sounds wrong in her mouth. “owain,” she corrects herself unprompted. “i’ll fix your cape later; i’ve been puh-racticing the delicate lady art of sewing,” pegasus knight adds with a merry little wiggle of her fingers. as they glide—because that’s what fancy adults did, glide—into the ballroom, cynthia takes a cursory look around the ballroom only for her to settle on one indisputable fact: this was not at all conducive to a date.

“wow, and i thought seteth was bad at planning parties.”  

she scratches the back of her head. “where’s the champagne tower? and people yellin’ about shots?” what were people supposed to be doing? it was like the ball back at the monastery, except lamer. no dancing competition, no photo booth! and they were all doing those boring ballroom dances. she would’ve thought that all these fancypants nobles would’a had enough money to blow the roof off of this joint, but they’re just doing normal things. 

cynthia shakes her head as eyes travel to the dance floor again, searching for their lovelorn couple before accidentally catching lucina’s eye. “we’ve gotta kick it up a notch.” she says aloud, turning her back to the other two.

hands hastily undo pigtails for fear of giving herself away at the last minute, though it just means her hair sits bunched up awkwardly at the sides of her head. “now, i’m thinking MOOD LIGHTING, huh? maybe we can get a few glasses,” she snatches a pair of champagne flutes off of a passing tray, tipping out the liquid as she presses the flat bottoms of the glass at her eyes. “maybe we can use these to block some of the lights to make a heart! and then—” and then, a hand reaches between the two of them, snatching the mask off of owain’s face. “hey! that’s—” glass shatters when she drops the flutes and cynthia jumps back. “oh, cheese and crackers! gerome!”

a pause.

her hands cover her mouth. “are you on a date too?” a pause, then she smacks her forehead as if realizing something. “no, wait. that’s silly; his only friends are us and minerva,” she mumbles. so, frown turns into a bright smile instead then into a frown again because in normal circumstances, she’d be pretty excited to see him here. but today isn’t normal circumstances and gerome was a stick in the mud, so ... brown eyes flick to the woman that’d been trailing just behind him. ( good thing she left too; she looked way too old for him! ) she must do what must be done. “hey, gerome! look over there!”

she snatches his mask, sticks two fingers in her mouth and whistles as loud as she can within reason as to not attract the attention of a certain couple out there on a certain dance floor. “LADIES, COME AND GET IT!” she turns and grips owain’s shoulders. “run; they’re coming,” is all she offers in warning before booking it in the direction of the orchestra and fitting her mask on her face as a veritable horde of woman descend upon her friend.

he’d understand.

it was for love!

flying’s as second nature to her as breathing. being cooped up inside hasn’t ever been something that she’s gotten used to. even with all the time that she’s spent at this ding dang academy, cynthia’s always found her mind wandering even though she’s told herself on more than one occasion since her return to pay better attention and do good in school. like, really actually do good in learning this time so that she could catch up with the others. and she’s been trying! she really honest to goodness has been trying to learn, which means less flying, which means less of buttercup. she’s getting itchy. itchy for freedom!

probably for the better as far as that pegasus is concerned, though she will lovingly drop her head on top of her rider’s when she arrives, frazzled, a mess and fresh from class like a bat out of hell.

                                                               “WHOOOOOOOO!”

she yells at the top of her lungs, her arms spread out wide and her head tilted backward. pigtails flutter in the wind as buttercup sails and soars through the sky, clipping through cloud after cloud and tipping side to side as pegasus knight demands. there really isn’t anything like this! the wind in her hair, the fresh air, the bug she just ate! giggling, cynthia and buttercup spin and twirl through the air as they circle a few miles just beyond the perimeter of the monastery. 

she didn’t want to get in the way of sky patrol and she’d gotten yelled at for buttercup accidentally stomping on the face of a monk when they flew too close to the few towers. cynthia pitches forward, her hand full of rein as she lightly pats pegasus’ cheeks and smiles. “c’mon, bunny!” she spits out another bug, ignoring the distinct possibility she just hawked a loogie on someone. cynthia tugs on the leather again and buttercup, in all her endless patience, concedes as they twist and turn over upside down. it’s only halfway through the motion that she recognizes what flies just beneath: scarlet hair and a BIG ASS WYVERN.

who else would it be? ( a lot of people, as it turns out; there is no shortage of red-haired wyvern riders. ) so, cynthia relaxes. lets go of the rein, lets her boots slip out of their stirrups and falls. the wind rushes past her ears.

“GEEEEEEEEEEROOOOOOOOOOO—”

she misses.

just clips right past ol’ minerva’s mouth in fact.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

Rumors of treasure in the deserts of Sreng have been spreading like wildfire in the Officer’s Academy recently, and it isn’t hard to imagine why. Every time the desert is brought up, more and more goodies are rumored to lie beneath the sands. Some claim that you could find mighty weapons from years ago, somehow perfectly preserved. One young student seems to think that there is a mysterious warrior with a “cool helmet” who would duel anyone who dares to disturb his home among the dusty ruins. Even the faculty have joined in on the speculation, eager at the possibility of uncovering supposed relics like “shoes that make you walk faster.” Either as a result of being enticed by the potential for treasure or out of eagerness to prove that the desert is indeed “deserted”, you decide to journey forth into the unknown. At the very least, the harsh conditions in the region should make for good exercise. [Grants Heavy Armor +1]

“hhhhhhmmm. uh huh. hmmmm!” paper map crinkles in her outstretched arms, legs kicking out idly as she adjusts her position in the saddle. it’s been a really long time since she’s had to go to sreng. the last time she went, there’d been all sorts of silly adventures that went all sorts of wrong. there was that time when she nearly got poisoned because she messed around with some of those giant sandworms that lived just beneath the surface. then, there was that other time that her and ewan got lost in the tunnels!

and then, there was another time where! well, she did some really cool stuff with bunny then. their very first mission together in fact! fought a big ol’ eagle. even brought it down by herself! no biggie!

( no, she didn’t. )

heh, it was half the reason that she—little ol’ cynthia from ylisstol—was allowed to even come on this mission out to sreng when she was still a student to investigate some rumors of such and such ruins and such and such artifacts.

she hadn’t really been listening during the briefing.

but, she did hear that cynthia was going to be all big and in charge and stuff since they were only going to be sending a small contingent of knights out to survey the area just in case. so, technically the knights were in charge. but cynthia was the one with the map! and as someone with the map, she can say it with complete and utter confidence: “i have no idea where we are.” legs kick back and forth on either side of buttercup, who for a second time is enduring the shifting sands of the desert beneath her and they wander aimlessly and blindly through the dunes. “i told you we should’a asked that camel for directions!”

lockpicnic​:

Never had she considered herself a thief for hire. Usually she just did whatever her heart desired, stealing only when she was in the mood…or when her wallet was running dry. But this was different! How could she call herself just if she let the plight of a poor innocent girl go unheard?

Maybe Cynthia deserved her ban from the kitchen, but that didn’t mean she deserved to starve between the hours of whenever they closed and whenever they opened— which is why Patty decided to help her sneak in for free!

She was beginning to regret the low price point.

Patty was scaling the wall carefully, for some reason entrusting Cynthia to keep her from falling. It was pretty easy to find an entrance…probably because it was never meant to be this off limits. Oh well, easy jobs were better than no jobs at all!

“Ah, Cynthia! Ya gotta be quieEEEET—!” Unceremoniously the thief falls, rubbing her back as she watches her new ‘friend’ fall not long after. “Wh— whaddaya mean!? We’re in ‘cuz we fell—!” What was the point of arguing, actually? After letting out a long, exaggerated sigh, Patty giggles. “Alright, alright— what do ya want to eat, then? I can whip us somethin’ up!”

cynthia offers a hand to help patty up before she goes ahead and takes in the sights and smells of the kitchen proper. it’s been a long time since she’s gone back in here. it still smells like wet rocks! at patty’s question, cynthia just cheerfully and brightly smiles. “i don’t know! i didn’t think we’d get this far!” and that was a fact. hungry as she was, she hadn’t thought that they’d actually be able to make it in without alerting the security team. must be because it’s the start of the school year.

strolling through the kitchen, cynthia tips up a few plates and pans for inspection before she glances back over her shoulder. 

a grate slightly rattles beneath her boot. “see, this is how i used to come in after i fed frobert; that’s the giant frog that lives under the monastery,” she hums, squatting down to inspect the shelves for fresh food. “but, i guess the knights finally locked it all up and stuff. frobert was really mad i didn’t feed him for a few months ‘cause i got lost.” a bag of flour is tossed up onto the counter along with a handful of apples and another pan that nearly drops onto her head when she isn’t looking. metal scrapes slightly against stone when she pushes it back into place. “so!”

suddenly, a butcher’s knife as cynthia stands up.

“where’d ya’ say you’re from again, patty?” 

ventusanimae:

Merric is generally considered a powerful, accomplished Mage to many. A humble one, too - ever dissatisfied with his progress and power, always hard at work to improve himself, his strength and knowledge. Usually even in what others would classify as spare time, time one should perhaps devote to resting and recovering their energy; the Altean is well known for staying up late into the night - or sometimes all night - engrossed in his studies, remaining in the classroom far longer than necessary, sometimes borderline living in the library, or even during the rare casual walks, revising the last chapter of his current grimoire or mumbling his most recently learned spell under his nose to get used to and memorize it.

What Merric is not generally considered, at least partially (but honestly not exclusively) as a result of all this, is careful and observant. Walking into walls instead of through the door and dropping a few piles of books right onto his head does not lend itself well to improving such reputation…

“Wh—ooOAAA!”

Ahem. Anyway,

neither does the apparent latest development, aka falling into a ditch in the middle of a field. Merric groans, rubbing his sore back end, as he looks up to see how far he fell. Come to think of it now, why was he even out here in the first place? That’s not the way to the training grounds, is it? Where is he, exactly?

You know, the whole “watch where you walking” concept that Linde was trying her best to sell to him may actually not be the worst of ideas. Sure, he’ll probably repeat that incantation a bit more slowly, but maybe at least this won’t happen.

There is movement in the light; a pegasus’ head peeks into the hole, prompting a raised eyebrow of surprise from the Altean - the pegasus did not dig this, right? - followed by another head.

Not a pegasus this time.

“Um. Hi?” In spite of the just about everything currently happening, Merric does manage a sheepish smile as he waves his hand. “Hey there. Um, it looks like I landed myself in a bit of a predicament…” And also a hole, but… Same thing. Anyway, “Do you think you can help me out?…”

sometimes, it’s just so darn embarrassing. cynthia’s always been a little forgetful and clumsy. she thinks it runs in the family though ‘cause her mom’s always tripping over her own feet and stuff too. she’s just the tiniest bit better about it. “just give me a second! i’ve got a ladder!” hurrying back to the edge of her hole, she reaches down for her ladder only to realize she’s grasping at air. “huh?” on her hands and knees, cynthia drops her head down into the hole to search for the edge of it only to find that it’s gone and fallen over to the bottom of the hole. “oh, pegasus feathers! bunny!” buttercup looks up. 

“can you help a girl out? grab that ladder for me, would’ja?” 

buttercup looks back down and cynthia groans, rubbing her cheeks with frustration before pegasus knight hauls herself back up onto her feet and snatches the shovel from the ground. “this is what we were talking about, bunny! you don’t communicate. they’re going to be so disappointed when we come back for our third session.” the pegasus snorts again, tossing her mane. “don’t you remember? it was in our buy one, get one?” she frowns as bunny sits back on her legs, chewing on some grass. 

cynthia huffs. “magnolia would never treat me like this!”

if a horse could gasp, she would. cynthia tosses her hair, making her way over to the edge of the hole before offering the handle-end of her shovel to the poor guy. he didn’t need to hear about her emotional issues with her pegasus. “here ya go. i’ll pull ya out! sorry ‘bout that, my ladder fell and—” much unbeknownst to both merric and cynthia is that offense was taken by buttercup, who now has promptly gotten up and presses her hoof into pegasus knight’s back to push her into the hole all the same. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

snap!

“owwww!” rubbing her behind, cynthia sits up on her knees. “can’t believe ...” she grumbles, shaking her fist cantankerously toward the sky before turning back toward her green-haired victim. “are you ok—wait.” she whips around, pigtails flying and swinging with a near violent speed before she realizes what’s happened. dropping to her knees again, she wails at the top of her lungs.

Valentians claim that saints well-versed in faith magic are able to traverse through even poisonous swamps and deadly terrain unaffected. Hoping to help train themselves and others to gain a similar immunity, a few zealous students have taken to covering hallway floors with all sorts of obstacles— pathways made of the hottest fires, routes made of the coldest ice, and lanes full of tiny toys with protruding parts! Kick off your shoes and try your luck! …or be the poor sap who has to clean it up. [Grants Faith +1]

what? like she wasn’t going to show up to the super awesome obstacle course of death? right! and she was the exalt! yeah right. cynthia wasn’t going to miss her chance. she hadn’t really been paying a whole lot of attention to what the whole explanation was. she’d even zoned out a little while the person who was running the joint was explaining the rules. just something, don’t break anything, something, something, something. it’d been on an off-chance that she even heard anything about it at all in the first place.

some of the other students had been sayin’ something about how dangerous it was and that someone was gonna get hurt. and cynthia, who was very concerned about something that sounded this fun worrying, had taken it upon herself to inspect the course. it just so happened to be the case that celica and another red-haired girl—she thinks her name was caeldori—were also joining in on scoping out the course themselves. better to be safe than sorry!

and cynthia was all about safety.

sort of.

“i hear all the traps and stuff were in the hallways initially until that vein in seteth’s forehead nearly burst,” she chimes, arms swinging at her sides and pigtails following. but as they’re guided into the training hall, cynthia hardly can tell if anything’s even changed. there’s a few cones and wheels laid out, but that’s not really all that dangerous. “man, i was worried a little when they asked for our bloodtype and emergency contacts, but this doesn’t look so bad!” she smiles, swaying in place. the lights in the room abruptly turn green.

“oh, i guess we should g—” a punching bag swings down from the roof, inches away from cynthia’s face and straight for celica and caeldori.

laslow:

When he realized they’d be coworkers, he expected they’d have to work together at some point, but he thought it would be for little things. Teaching a joint class, maybe, or sparring partners. 

He can’t say he’s complaining about this new development. 

She disentangles her arm from his—“we have to keep up appearances, Luci!”—to accept a sparkling flute of champagne. He’s carrying a matching one in his free hand, idly taking a couple sips as they begin to blend in with the assembled nobility. 

“You look beautiful tonight, by the way,” he stage whispers, unable to hold back the words sticking in his throat. Dresses suit her; even the oddly patterned ones she chooses for herself. Thank Naga he didn’t have to match polka dots and stripes—he’s had his fill of gaudy suits to last a lifetime. 

Laslow fiddles with a navy sleeve cuff, sharp edge of one nail catching on the golden embroidery. No more compliments, after that one. Things are still weird. Less so, these days, but he wonders if they’ll ever achieve the easy camaraderie they once had. 

Hand drops back to his side. They’re here on a mission. He can parse his feelings later, when she’s not standing next to him and looking like she’d rather be anywhere else. 

“You’d think they’d keep better track of such a priceless heirloom.” Duke Maxifeld has yet to make an appearance; Laslow eyes the closed double doors at the opposite end of the ballroom. The feared heist would most likely take place after the family makes their grand entrance. Easy enough for a thief to slip away while everyone’s distracted greeting the gracious hosts. 

“We can try have a little fun though, eh?” 

> @cynthero or @teneguine !

the night is full of stars, both in the sky and in the ballroom. dancers exchange hands. the music plays and the champagne runs freely from bottle to glass flute, which produce a kind of music of their own. coy smiles behind open fans, appraising eyes searching the crowd for those worthy of value. she’d always wondered what balls like this looked like. they were hardly the age to be debutants then and they were much too old to be now. so, she doesn’t know what inigo and lucina are doing here.

peering through a pair of binoculars, cynthia watches as the two unlink their arms and inigo says something and lucy just kinda turns away. “he’s either saying she’s a beauty or ...” she squints, “or that he’s learning kabuki.” branches and leaves rustle as pegasus knight swings down from her perch in the tree, the skirts of her dress ballooning as she does so. “is this inigo still pretending that he doesn’t know how to dance and we all politely pretend we don’t know that he knows how to dance?”

inigo was inigo. just like owain was owain, but both of them were a little different now. different timelines, blah, blah, blah—same junk as always. she doesn’t claim or pretend to understand any of it. ( all she knows is that there’s the distinct feeling of being left behind again, but that’s nothing new. ) lifting her binoculars up again, cynthia watches as inigo offers an arm to lucina. 

probably to try and get her to dance? so, it was the inigo that they knew knew how to dance. the worst inigo. “ ooooh, i just knew it! i told you they’re on a date, owain! we’ve gotta—” creeeak. snap. crash! “ARHGGRHG, PEGASUS DROPPINGS.” she bursts up from the bushes, lurching forward with her knees high. “c’mon, we’ve gotta roll out and help before inigo ruins his chan—” cynthia hardly notices in her rush that her foot’s caught on the hem of a spectacularly large, fluffy cloak and hardly notices anymore that her foot’s tangled in the fabric until she hears a loud rip. 

head turns like clockwork. lips press into a tight line. hands fold together.

you know? in her mad rush to get here, she hadn't bothered to ask what he was wearing. she didn't even really think to look at him for more than a few seconds since they arrived because she was so certain that her friends, slippery as they were, would surely disappear if she looked away for even more than a second. 

and now that she is looking?

“owain, what’re you wearing?”

Friendship bracelets are making a resurgence, but this time, lance wielders are tying them to the shafts of their weapons to show off their popularity. Join the cool kids and decorate your lance with some sick new threads. [Grants Lance +1]

honestly, it’s genius. she doesn’t know how she didn’t think of it herself! well, actually she does know how. friendship bracelets were usually something that was pretty special. they were called friendship bracelets for a reason. she felt like that was kind of obvious in the name, right? she only made them for her friends. now, cynthia had a lot of friends but not all of them were bracelet-level friends and then she had some bracelet friends who didn’t like wearing bracelets, so that just kind of defeated the purpose—anyway, the point was that cynthia had a lot of friendship bracelet making skill that had gone unused and unused for too long, she should say!

but as it turns out, it’s a new kinda fashion thing. everyone was learning how to make friendship bracelets now. sure, it was for lances which honestly she thought was kinda stupid. ‘cause it was like, hello? those could get caught on things when you’re stabbing someone or, like, what if a monster’s yucky blood got on it? then it was all over!

but, that’s why she’s making them in bulk ‘cause then people can replace them for when their old stuff got worn down.

wiggling her fingers and cracking her neck, cynthia turns her head in morgan’s direction as she turns from one friendship bracelet to the next.

pegasus knight loops a mishapen charm onto the end of one and cynthia tugs the string tight into a loop before she holds it up for the mage to see. “okay, so i’ve got six alms done and then six celicas done.” she chirps, grinning from ear to ear as she gestures to the orange-red and white friendship bracelets in one hand with a crudely drawn illustration of the valentian queen’s face and the green and white one with the king’s face also likewise drawn. 

“this is so great, morgy! everyone can get their favorite king or queen as a fun charm on their lances. at this rate, we’ll be able to expand to swords and knives and ... and swords ... and knives ...” pause.

“... and lances! i think these’ll be in big demand!”