起死回生

There had been talk of the Church’s new measures to rein in unruly characters, the constant subject of stray chit-chat as of late that she had never paid much heed to. She is no troublemaker, after all— Eir excelled at staying quiet and keeping her head down. Her presence had the tendency to fade into the background, swallowed by the shadows lurking in corners.

It is the natural product of years spent trying to play the part of the perfect daughter that decrees as much, habits etched into blood and bone. Eir does not stick out. She is reserved, taciturn, at times severe— but nothing close to trouble.

So why does she find herself stuck to none other than the leader of the Black Eagles house, Edelgard von Hresvelg? Surely she is not what the church supposes is the poor model student on the other end…?

“…” Her hand feels cold in Edelgard’s. Death has found herself in a situation she has never once thought to anticipate. Various emotions war within, but none show on her face. “……”

And so when Lambert caught wind of a supposed orb able to reveal another version of whoever handles it, he didn’t think it too odd. The very fact he stood alive and well was enough to suspend his disbelief in regards to most things out there, some ball from a distant land wouldn’t shock him so much. Well, the idea of it existing didn’t bother him.

Now, what it could possibly show him on the other hand…he’d be lying to say he wasn’t curious, even though such curiosity was lined with a mild sense of dread. But the professor wasn’t one to back down so easily, and so even as some uncertainty gnawed at his heart, he stood before a pair of heavy wooden doors- at one of the many corridors in the Abyss that led into Garreg Mach’s basements. “The leads I got all mentioned the area beyond this door. Something about that orb being kept hidden from the public for further analysis…or something like that.” The professor spoke out loud, looking over his shoulder to meet the eyes of a young woman.

“I suppose you too are interested in whatever that orb has to offer, are you not? Even though it could very well show us something less than pleasant…” Lambert smiled, despite that relatively ominous idea. "As a man of my age, I have my doubts whether this orb will be able to surprise me with what it will ultimately show. Unless in another universe I am set to become a jester of sorts, somehow." All he knew about the girl was that she was meant to be part of the Ashen Wolves- and so what better way to get to know your newest student than to…take them to see the weird orb?

Be as pressing of a matter as it may, however, she finds herself slightly distracted.

The man before her should not be alive; his soul is mangled beyond belief. When Eir looks at him, she sees a dead man walking— yet he smiles, pale skin diffused with warmth. It is unusual. She is accustomed to it, at least, in the Order of Heroes, but this is her first encounter with someone of such nature who was not bound by the summoner’s contract. In Askr, she had accepted that the summoner was capable of defying divine law; of raising the dead, of indenturing even gods to their service. But what she sees now demands explanations that nothing seems capable of offering.

Eir snaps back to attention when he turns to face her. Though she intends merely to nod and keep silent, he pins her with a question. “…Yes, I suppose I am.”

Even if it might show them something less than pleasant. If the rumours were truly all they say, what would Eir see? What was there left to be afraid of? The question tastes of blood. Lambert cracks a joke, but Eir does not laugh. She only watches him, observing the form of his soul.

What happened to you?

“My name is Eir.” The answer is practiced. She nods as he introduces himself in turn. “Thank you for your time today, professor.”

The name sounds strangely familiar, though Eir cannot quite place where she has heard it. Whatever the case, she is certain that Lambert is dead. Or has died, at least. There is something sinister about the whole ordeal— but she is not here to look into that today.

to anyone who didn’t know any better, yuri is only making their rounds after returning to abyss after a few days spent away on some job or another. ensure abyss hasn’t been blown off its pillars since they were last home. check in on their men to see if anything pressing requires their attention. and, of course, that unofficial duty of theirs as the so-called leader of a house of wolves.

well, she should know better than to think this is just a polite greeting. it doesn’t take a genius to connect those dots.

“have a second?” but the answer doesn’t seem to matter much with how they press on without waiting for one. “i asked around for your name. hope you don’t mind. let’s call it my way of trying to make up for not being able to welcome you to our humble underground city in person.”

if yuri gave every lost soul that wandered into their safe haven a personalized greeting, they wouldn’t have time to do anything else. but the mockingbird merely shrugs, turning to lean a shoulder against the bookshelves. with a weary sigh, “...and for that terrible first impression.”

It is as she follows the sound of souls that she chances upon it— the moment it leaves the body, the crimson that pours out from a slit in the neck. The murderer stands tall, their profile obscured by purple locks. She watches, despite herself. The corpse is wordless, but Eir’s hands curl into fists. Its soul howls and howls.

Death had turned heel and left.

It was only a matter of time before that decision came to hound her.

Eir turns before the sound informs her of their presence; their soul held a heavy air. Her eyes narrow. She knows them— but she suspects in a matter not quite nearly as unscrupulous as how they had come to know her.

The princess takes care to tread lightly. The Abyss is Yuri’s turf, after all, and it is by their grace as house leader that Eir is there in the first place. Her countenance is unreadable; she merely watches Yuri with the same calm disposition she had when they had snuffed out a life in front of her only hours earlier.

Their hands are clean, bloodless. The knife is absent, but Eir knows they aren’t here to play nice.

There are few people who are so forthright, but the princess finds she prefers their honesty. Still, the words they choose send a sharp needle of discomfort through her chest. A better place? Eir’s lips are a straight line. Be it Hel or the Abyss, no such place awaited the dead. She tries to say nothing.

“A better place,” She echoes. She fails. Still, there remained no other way through this conversation than to regard their wishes with respect. “You have my silence. I would only ask…”

Eir shakes her head. “No, not at all.

“Saw you…?” Doing what? The words nearly loose from her lips, but Eir thinks better of it. Had Bernadetta been watching her? It was unlike Eir to not notice a gaze directed her way— perhaps the night has run longer than she’d thought. Azure gaze watches as Bernadetta draws closer, warming. “Please, there is no need to apologise…”

The next words take her by surprise. Stunned, she can only blink; her gaze falls on the notebook instinctively. “Oh… were you writing something?” She pauses, hesitant. “A story?”

She hopes the question isn’t invasive— for Eir, at least, it serves to sidestep the thought of family. How would I… She wants to believe her true mother might have embraced love in all its forms. Could she say the same for Hel? She stares at the book for a moment longer before recollecting herself.

“No, of course not.” The ends of her lips curve into a barely hidden smile, amusement flashing over her tired countenance. Ah… hopefully Bernadetta doesn’t take that the wrong way. Eir raises a slender finger to her lips. “Just as long as you don’t tell anybody I was here, either. It’ll be our secret.”

This is where dreams are boiled, strained, souped, garnished, and served! Is ramen just a beloved dish of Hoshido, or is it perhaps something more…?

The skies overhead are clear, golden rays washing Garreg Mach in its brilliance. The wind blows favorably today, and carry with them the tangy scent of salt. High up in the mountains, they are far from the sea— beneath the fragrance that wafts through the air is a pleasant heat, the undertone of spice. It is a smell both intriguing and inviting, and in following the whims of her nose, the princess finds herself at its source before long.

Before her stands the ramen stall, a fresh sight in the town of Garreg Mach. It had been constructed right by the main market, earning its fair share of foot traffic from both locals and travelers alike. Whether it is the taste that entices them, or the glimpse of a foreign land afforded only for a brief season, the fact remains that the stall was a huge hit. Outside, Eir’s glance falls upon a busy-looking woman, dressed in a uniform of sorts. She approaches.

“Good morning. My name is Eir… I was told that I was to work today’s shift?” Eir introduces herself, slightly uncertain. If this isn’t the chef she was told to report to today, the embarrassment would be nothing short of severe.

“Oh, Eir! Yeah, I got you on my list. I’m Raika, the chef in charge. Thanks for showing up today!” The chef grins, wide and toothy. Her warm enthusiasm brings out a small smile in Eir; the brilliance of life was so evident in her features. Raika looks down and ticks a box, the action punctuated with a self-congratulatory fist pump. “Awesome. Now I’m just waiting for one more person— your partner for today, actually..!”

Eir nods. Raika glances at the papers in her hand, then raises her head. They stare at one another for a moment. As Eir begins to harbour the thought of asking if anything might be askance, the chef angles her head, looking right over Eir’s shoulder. “Oh, there she is! Heeeey! Over here!”