hilda valentine goneril ♡

The monastery staff guarding the entrance were momentarily distracted. It was now or never! She walked towards the stairs, and...

"Oh! Edelgard!"

Hilda tried to look nonchalant. Edelgard wasn't a staff member, but she was a house leader, which was sort of the student version. She didn't know if she would care about her trespassing, but she didn't care to find out; the thought of getting on Edelgard's bad side was a thousand times scarier than whatever punishment the monastery could concoct.

"Cool ball, right?" she said casually, angling her body away from the stairs.

With how insensitively the guards had been chasing people away from the Goddess Tower, it left her to wonder what secrets the monastery was hiding away. Many, no doubt. The ground she stood on was full of them. She could not believe any nonsense reasoning the people at its employ told her— If they did know, they would pretend they didn't. They would usher her to the grand ball; shoo the princess to enjoy her evening and do anything else as long as it wasn't at the tower.

She'd not the thought to head into the tower herself after their tomfoolery, but was plenty content walking around its premise in hopes of observation. It took only but a beat to realize she wasn't alone.

Hilda?

When she heard her footsteps, she turned to face her. What was she doing over this direction? Shifting to block the path forward with her body, Edelgard crossed her arms in study of Hilda: "Yes, but I do believe the festivities themselves aren't exactly here. There's not much to see where we are now."

"Oh, you know," Hilda said, chuckling nervously, "with all the surprises the night has had in store for us, I wanted to be the first to see if anything had changed around here."

She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the wider area, resolutely avoiding the stairs to the tower with her gaze. "But, hmm, no... Nothing seems to be out of place. Oh well!"

Distractions tactics were in order! She pulled a lily from her bouquet. "Here! For you. Have a good night!"

She picked up her skirts and hurried back towards the screenings.

But as the curtain rises on their dance, any insensitive quip is hushed by the song that accompanied their footsteps. This is not a dance meant to spread joy. It is a tale of sadness, and Hugh can sense it in the way that Nyx carries herself.

But, Hugh also feels...

Style: 1 | Choreography: 5 | Technique: 9 Total: 15

The constant! Stepping! On his damn feet!

There's a few saves that he has to make to avoid Nyx toppling over altogether. At first, he believes it to be her fault, but as the dance continues, he starts to recognize that it's his own footwork that's too slow. He pauses - he hesitates. The weight of the song stirs up long-abandoned memories, the kind that, unlike Nyx, works against the song instead of empower it.

He thinks of when he was young. He can hardly recall the faces of the two he could call his parents. He had lost them when he was so small. And the person to pick up where they had left off?

By the time the song finishes, it takes a moment to recognize that Nyx is talking to him. He snorts at the suggestion - but it grounds him, too.

"Me?! You're the one who was stumbling all over me. Have you considered wearing heels?" He mentally winces at the idea of being stepped on by those high heels. "Actually, scratch that, that might make it worse..."

... Especially after watching their opponents dance. Hilda wasn't going to kick them while they were down, so she clapped politely, but she silently mourned the health of purple-haired man's feet.

As perhaps was to be expected, the judges' scores came through, and Hilda and Elise were moving onto the next round.

Oughhhhh, there’s another roundddddd…….

It makes sense now that she’s thinking about it, yeah, but she DIDN’T think about it before! She only prepared the one dance! She thought she’d just have to do that and be done with it!!!!

Oh gosh and they’re going first again too. Oh no oh no oh no oh noooo…

Style: 3 | Choreography: 1 | Technique: 10 Total: 14

Elise raises her arms out in the space before her, spread apart as if to accommodate another person that’s not there — a technique she’d come up with for practicing her footwork in front of the mirror in her room solo when Leo wasn’t available or was insisting something about a ‘break’. A technique that works well for what she needs it to do, yeah, she is killing it on the steps — but one that also looks stupid and she knows it.

She sends Hilda an uncomfortably strained smile as she turns past in a sweeping step for what feels like the millionth time; both an apology and a plea. She is so sorry. Hilda save us.

This time, Elise was up first. She mimed a sort-of ballroom dance without a partner --- certainly well executed but perhaps a little quirky for the judges' tastes.

Hilda strutted on to the dance floor once more and threw in a few more arm movements, pointing at each of the judges in turn on beat, and ending with a little jump and a twirl, her heel lifted into a pointed toe and her hands folded under her chin upon the landing.

Style: 8 | Choreography: 4 | Technique: 1 Total: 13

Her partner was a blonde student she recognised from around the Academy, but wasn't someone she'd spoken to at length. She gave her a bright smile of encouragement.

"We've got this. Let's go!"

They were up first, and it fell to Hilda to start them off.

She didn't really know what she was expected to do, so she just gave a little strut in time with the music, spun around, and blew a kiss to the judges.

Style: 10 | Choreography: 2 | Technique: 1 Total: 13

She pointed to Elise to cue her up.

Ohhhhh.

Them.

"Ah, those people. I've seen them myself, even had to shoo away a few..." He knows they were doing their jobs... in a sense. But seriously, they were like gnats. "Some of them try to be discreet and blend in, but they usually give themselves away when they start pestering someone who's caught their eye. They tend to go for those they deem as unique, standout... different from the crowd."

Which, in a dazzling crowd like this, would have been particularly difficult to manage.

He grumbles, "The man in the gold suit is especially persistent. Always rambling. Rubs his hands together a lot. And claims to be the one that brought Dorothea to stardom, though I'm sure if you ask the lady herself, she'd have plenty to say otherwise."

They were talent scouts. Some of the students she'd spoken to had scoffed, claiming that they were all unsubstantiated rumours and that the unfamiliar faces were just townspeople looking to get in on a night of glamour. And that little anecdote about the man in gold was, well... gold. She could finally spread her gossip with confidence.

And, hey, if one of them did deem her unique enough to attempt to scout her, then that was a compliment, wasn't it? Now, how to get noticed...

She tried not to look too pleased with herself.

"Oh, certainly, sir! I'll be sure to let you know." That she was going to be famous. "Thanks, Professor, I feel much more at ease now."

She made to walk away before pausing. "Oh, here! A reward for..." Information, she was about to say, but that would give her scheming away. "... Being such a great teacher!" In her open palm sat a yellow lily.

Diamant's not particularly surprised to see Hilda poking her nose around—if she'd be anywhere, it would be a party where she could have fun with her friends and cast off the daily expectations that came with academy life.

Though, she was also the daughter of nobles; the socialization, the platitudes, the attempts to bolster status and garner favor... galas such as these could be just as much work as anything else, for those with their lifestyle.

Yet somehow, he doubts that's the reason why she seemed so curious about the other partygoers.

Drink in hand, Diamant gives her a thoughtful, sidelong look. It was easy to think there was some catch with her, or that she had an angle to her questioning.

But she was a noble of Leicester, and with the recent murder threats plaguing the aristocracy...

He frowns. No wonder she might be on edge.

"I'm surprised you don't know more than I do, social butterfly that you are." He chuckles, "Every face I've seen is either faculty or a student—most of them I can place by affiliation or name, and I haven't sensed anything out of the ordinary so far."

Diamant scans the room. "Is there anyone in particular that concerns you?"

She tried to backtrack a little. "No, no, nobody in particular." She then thought back to the stranger hassling her friend, trying to get her to come with them somewhere and tapped her lip for a moment as she pondered. "Well, actually, there was that one..." Wait, she was getting off track. "Never mind. Just, you know, being extra vigilant!"

With that, off they were. The knife in Claude's hand left a thin but visible horizontal line in every tree they passed, creating a guideline of sorts for their way back. He took measured, confident steps, ensuring his boots left a mark in the snow beneath them, however thin the layer was - as an extra trail for them to trace back. For a while, they walked in silence. Hearing Hilda's steps closely behind him, Claude didn't feel a need to look back to make sure she was still there and everything was fine.

That was, until she called his name in a voice that prompted an immediate pause from him. He glanced back, then stopped and turned fully as she continued. He remained quiet for a moment, taking some time to think of a response to her question that would feel right - or, at least, as right as it was possible in those circumstances.

"I actually think that finding them dead will be better than not finding them at all," he noted. "It might sound wrong right now, but... at least then, the families will receive some kind of closure, and we will know that we did everything we could, and there was no point in pressing on further. That said..." He trailed off for a moment, before letting out a sigh. "Look, just try not to think too much about it right now. If it really comes to it, I'll handle giving everyone the news." With that, he turned back towards the path.

For a moment, it may have seemed like Hilda's final question would go unanswered, but then, he spoke again.

"... If I don't stay sane, who will?" He answered with a question of his own, something akin to a weak chuckle passing through his words, even if it was clear he was not humored by the situation at all. "Things happen in life that suck something fierce, you don't have control over the hand fate deals you, and all you can do is keep smiling and marching forward, and believing the future will be worth it. Giving up is the only way you can be sure it won't."

Hilda watched Claude carefully as he considered his next words, studying his features and micro-expressions. Sure, she loved the version of Claude that was fun, care-free, always joking around, but she almost preferred him in these moments of sincere contemplation. They didn't happen often. It made her feel like he was letting her in.

She followed his finger and, before she could think to reply to his musings, she audibly gasped at what they had found.

"They must be fresh, right?" she asked excitedly. It was mild enough weather presently for the snow to have melted if it wasn't recent; perhaps it had fallen overnight. "Let's hurry!"

She surged forward before she faltered, hesitating.

"And... Claude? You're a good person, and you'll be a great leader. But it must be a ton of pressure." She grimaced. "All I'm saying is, if you ever want to let the smile slip, you know where to find me, 'kay?"

With that, she resumed her path into the northern thicket. The foliage was dense enough to scratch at her face as she pushed it aside and shimmied between tree trunks, but in the ensuing quiet, she heard... voices? Voices! At least a few of them, too.

House Goneril had been gracious—if he could call it graciousness and not obligation—to host the two of them while they blew the dust off a case that had gone cold some twenty years prior. a string of serial murders and a missing perpetrator, with the brawny bitemarks that drew as much fear as it did blood. “the reports had indicated a collection of blood from each house, but nothing had suggested something so insidious as dopplegangers. there is hardly a wonder why the elders of the Alliance have their pearls gripped.” 

to his chagrin, he had never heard of Viscount Siward in any extraordinary light, let alone with any real significant weight in society before this. yet, the loss of his brother had dipped the Alliance’s yellow banners in poison and left Ferdinand feeling as though it was his duty to have known the man, if only to help a fellow nobleman in his vexing predicament. had his own siblings been lost, Ferdinand would have appreciated a mirrored gesture. 

“Hilda, will Duke Goneril really be alright with your involvement in this?” (and did Hilda even—no, what was he thinking! of course she would! this is a threat to her own blood!) “he… well, you have indicated his brotherly concerns before.” (and my head is far easier lopped off than an elusive killer with only a few penned words in ink.) 

Ferdinand's reference to the letter only made her shudder. She wasn't sure whether its author meant it literally, metaphorically, or as some sort of sick joke, but she did not like it.

Astrid trotted alongside beside the horse, flexing her wings every so often as if to say, And why are we on the ground? Have you forgotten about these?

"It doesn't sound plausible," she finally settled on. "I rather agree with House Ordelia that our murderer is speaking in riddles: the House is the body and the people are its parts? Kidnappings and glamoured imposters are an easier ask of magic than the replacement of actual arms and legs, I would have thought!" And less gruesome...

The ambiguity was clearly the point, and each whispered theory around the killings seemed to be worse than the last.

She missed when her biggest problem was avoiding her training drills.

To Ferdinand's question, she couldn't help but smile, the words of her brother's panicked letter still clear in her mind.

"He is a funny sort of brother, Holst," she mused. "In one letter, he is encouraging me to be a great warrior, but as soon as there is a whiff of real danger, his correspondence arrives forbidding me from leaving the grounds. I think, in his mind, there is something much scarier about a covert killer than facing enemies on the battlefield." She held up her hands in exasperation. "Of course, he has no actual authority over the Academy, so here I am."

That hadn't stopped her from trying -- and failing -- to use the letter to get out of this mission. She didn't think Ferdinand would appreciate that detail, however, so she left it out.

"Besides, you'll protect me, right?" she added in a teasing tone.