* MULTITUDES.

heart      -      sung      enrichment,      amusement      dancing      within      the      paths      of      blue      -      paradise      gaze.      as      she      is,      poets      would      be      envious.      artwork      given      form,      the      tidings      of      humanity      as      flesh      &&      blood      &&      the      empathy      surrounding      existence      thusly.      it      speaks      to      amusement.      light      -      hearted,      roused      fondly,      reminded      that      these      moments      are      just      as      important.      the      moments      spent      in      brightening      day,      morning      -      light      splendor      catching      against      their      edges.      wisping      sunbeams      &&      sun      -      kiss      the      waking      wager.      &&      it      should      come      as      no      surprise      that,      in      his      quip,      there      is      wistful      breath      presented      through      humor.      the      airiness      of      a      laugh’s      ghost      that      swells      in      her      throat      &&      unfurls      across      the      surface      of      her      coffee.      allowing      herself      purchase      at      his      side,      to      lean      ;      basking      in      all      that      he      is      —-      wittiness      &&      all      boyish      -      blue,      years      made      prominent      in      flesh.      crow’s      feet      starting      to      gather      beyond      lash      -      line      &&      unfair      years      nipping      at      heels.      she’s      seen      it      all.      known      him      from      the      start      of      the      world’s      steady      decline.      &&      yet      it’s      never      stopped      the      swell      in      her      heart      when      she      looks      at      him.

❝      no,      no…      i      like      you      for      coffee      and      breakfast.      ❞      she      leans      into      his      jest      with      her      own.      presents      herself      as      more      than      just      receptive      to      the      inklings      of      comical      -      ploy.      ever      willing      to      play      her      part.      even      as      her      heart      is      set      aflutter      in      her      chest.      butterfly      -      belly      ,      caught      consumed      by      all      that      he      is.      handsome      features,      dashing      smile,      strength      of      man      &&      resilience      that      runs      deep      to      marrow.      one      of      many      traits      that      holds      eva’s      favor.      but      alas      —      the      feeling      of      his      warmth      is      gone      too      soon.      the      sear      of      his      fingers      thrumming      along      her      ankle,      ever      -      familiar      with      the      callouses      against      her      skin.      reluctant      to      let      it      leave      her.      heart      -      worn      by      the      way      he      rises      from      the      sanctuary      of      disheveled      linens.      she’d      be      just      as      well      rotting      away,      hip      -      to      -      hip      for      the      remainder      of      the      day.      after      all,      the      evening’s      calling      for      rain.      but      even      with      such      a      fact,      she      falls      in      line.      pretty      little      soldier      ;      snap      to      orders,      quick      to      abide      routine.      a      subtle      clear      of      throat      ensues      therein,      readying      herself      for      the      impending      day.      a      moment      taken      to      set      aside      the      mug      to      nightstand,      another      to      snag      his      shirt      from      the      foot      of      the      bed      (      tossed      in      last      night’s      excitability      )      so      that      she      might      allow      herself      the      security      of      pulling      it      over      her      head.      it’s      such      a      simple,      mundane      thing      —      but      it      means      so      much      to      her.

even      when      her      body      is      buzzing      like      set      -      off      alarms,      ache      in      hips      &&      tremble      in      thighs.      

as      best      she      may,      she      fights      past      the      affliction.      careful      to      retrieve      her      coffee,      content      to      join      him      at      his      side      —      albeit      after      gathering      up      the      folder      at      her      desk.      after      -      breakfast      intentions      &&      aligning      intel      that      would,      no      doubt,      lead      to      business.      the      perk      is      the      ring      glittering      on      her      finger      all      the      while.      

step      for      step,      she      makes      her      way      downstairs      with      him.      gingerly      sipping      from      mug,      eyes      scouring      the      folder      in      her      grasp      halfheartedly      before      it      finds      temporary      station      atop      the      dining      room      table      where      she      now      stands.      dressed      only      in      his      shirt      that      hangs      loosely      to      just      beneath      ample      rear.      a      single      shoulder      exposed,      but      curves      filling      just      enough      for      comfort.      a      vision      of      his.      &&      then,      the      silk      of      her      voice      gives      way      once      more.      casting      a      smile      warmer      than      the      sun      to      him      —      loving,      whole.      setting      aside      the      turmoil      of      work      just      a      little      longer.     

❝      smells      so      good…      gotta      say      :      keep      this      up,      and      i      just      might      marry      you.❞      a      stifled      little      laugh,      she      thinks      she’s      so      clever.      gaze      cast      askew      ever      playfully      like      the      ring      isn’t      cemented      onto      her      finger.      ❝      oh,      right      — ❞

leon snorts — a continuation of the jest, because of course she does. what better way to domesticate a man than to marry him & then funnel every life choice into his soul, the way you like your eggs & your coffee, your favorite fragrance for laundry, your favorite dinner & the very off day pattern you prefer to follow. fully eclipsing the way he might have lived his life before in quiet contemplation, solemnity with every meal eaten in silence with a glass or bottle of whiskey to drown out the agonies, the remembrance — which is now easier to ignore in the warmth of her tender embrace, head on shoulder, most of the times in the throes of some ridiculous & convoluted show on the television, one that spans too many seasons with too many tragedies & a leading man that looks suspiciously familiar. he doesn't dare watch it without her. leon says nothing most of the time, picking at the couch throw she had selected which still holds the smell of her perfume even when she's away. ' mm - hmm. that … checks out. you were excited about the coffee last night. ' easier to acknowledge that than the way she sways — because it'll bring a hint of pride back to his bones, college bravado ( knowing he's made her sore, that she's in his shirt, that her dishevelment is all his hard work. ) if leon stares too long, he'll be convinced to go again & that isn't the best idea, not when the entire world still waits for him to see if there's anything to be done — & with near manic prayer, he hopes there isn't.

[ quite frankly, he deserves his time off! racing the clock to fight the spread of affliction, stumbling his way, brink of death, to the end of the line hoping there would be someone who could take his body home. weak, bleary, dazed & still dreaming of resting, head in eva's lap while she brushed his hair & distracted herself with some race — the only place he would choose to be at the end of the day were retirement ever an option. ]

“    hunting    CAN    be    that    easy    if    you    just    let    me    help    out    !    i    don’t    spend    a    quarter    of    every    year    racing    for    show,    dean.    “    inclination    to    a    truth    comes    with    risen    brow    &&    crooked    hips,    her    hands    atop    each    in    some    mock    condescension.    but    there’s    no    judgement—    or    rather,    it    never    reaches    her    eyes.    never    permeates    the    skin.    never    makes    mess    to    the    way    her    tone    comes    &&    goes    on    a    fluctuation    of    understanding.    “    i    mean…    sorta    kinda—    but—    look,    it’s    a    lot    of    fun.    the    point    is,    you    only    have    to    ask.    “

she    knows    better.    no    matter    if    she    turns    pink    or    blue    in    uttering    this    time    &&    time    again,    whether    of    his    masculinity    or    of    his    pride,    she’s    been    turned    down.    but    there    is    something    to    be    said    of    those    who    would    much    prefer    the    makings    of    their    hands.    at    oft    times,    she    wonders    if    there    is    something    akin    to    declining    handouts    when    they    know    well    that’s    never    the    intent.    the    care,    the    regard,    that    she    has    for    each    head    in    this    house    comes    from    the    depths    of    heartsong    &&    the    tunes    that    thrum    throughout    her    veins.    it    reaches    deep    into    her    bones,    makes    a    home    in    her    soul.    it    feels    much    to    her    like    the    way    adrenaline    from    the    final    stretch    of    a    race.    when    she    becomes    one    with    the    car    &&    the    road.    every    groove    of    the    track,    every    turn    that    pulls    against    her    body.    it’s    innate.    second    nature.    it’s    like    home.    

he'll never be able to lean into the ease of what she offers, finds it too tempting to imagine a life outside of the wild hunt, the rough & tough prowl in the night, the blood itself that has made him a man, but he'll always appreciate it nonetheless. even if she never means it like that, dean is more than happy to picture it ( what is the american dream? the haunting reality of the nuclear family? white picket fence, two overprotective dogs, babies toddling around just cooing & cawing … never the right ending for a hunter. ) he's reticent. confrontational. uninterested but overly interested all the same. god knows there's a thrill in potentially just having money, no scams, no bodily exchanges, no gambling, but there's a catch, isn't there? there's always a catch. it's not his voice that protests, but the voice of the father. the concern of the family - maker. the overwhelming masculine swagger of the guy who can't be bothered to check - in consistently.

none - the - fucking - less, it's good to be at bobby's & not some cramped motel, interstate humming outside, sketchy deals being made parkling lot adjacent, the sound of a baby crying through the wallpaper & his brother toss - turning crying about jess for the fifth time that week. small as the house might be, at least there's some peace & quiet, which dean is willingly taking up by sprawling across the couch now, head on armrest, gangly legs thrown out before him, summertime tan & freckles evident on glistening skin. dean winchester might never say yes to the thought of eva's money, but he'd be stupid to say no to basking in her presence. even the banged up impala manages to catch stations narrating her races. not that he's overly invested.

even in impolite work , she is elegant , moon-silver hair framing a face centered by lilac gaze , beautiful in a way aerith herself may never be. her eyes , the same too-green color shared by the children of sothis , that accursed blood which binds her to such blaspheming children that sit atop fodlan's power structure , whether they wish to admit it or not. there is little room for a girl like her , whose holy blood is diluted with that of mankind , whose divinity is sullied by nature of her birth. she cannot seem to fully align herself with anyone without betraying her own blood , human or not. perhaps that is her greatest struggle , caught in a war not between nations , but between both parts of herself.

& of that sullied blood , aerith is certain that much of it now resides in edelgard herself. so much of it was stolen from her , weaponized in service of their so-called goddess , as if sothis would've wanted the blessings of her children used to inflict mindless suffering on children for some self-proclaimed greater good. aerith's own suffering was minimal in that regard ; her blood was stolen , enough to leave her weak & weary , too weary to resist them , to fight back. too weary even now to muster the kind of righteous anger she should feel. it makes her feel weak , useless , as though she doesn't matter. it doesn't serve to stop her anger , though she wields neither righteous axe nor just arrows. her only weapon is herself & the slivers of autonomy she has been granted , the ability to run unhampered within her gilded cage. but gold plating chips & whether or not rhea likes it , aerith knows exactly what horrors lie beneath the surface.

❛ mm , not at all. i kind of like watching people work with weapons. ❜

sothis' daughter speaks lightly , head tilted that gentle chestnut locks frame her face. rosy lips part on a hum. she shifts , hands clasping gently behind her back , her too-green eyes dancing over edelgard's form. they are bound by their shared horrors , by the chains which bound them once. with something taken & forced upon them in turn , perhaps it was fate that led her to align herself with adrestia's heir. perhaps that was why aerith felt as though this was the only choice she could make , why seiros' gaze seemed to burn on her back. but she pays that line of thinking little mind , a small peal of laughter leaving her.

❛ it's kind of soothing , watching someone get lost in their work like that. ❜

but she can't help but light up when edelgard accepts her invitation , rosy lips curving into a warm smile , cheeks delicately carmine now. she didn't often get the chance to spend time like this with her peers , sothis' daughter too tightly chained by her rosary , too burdened with the weight of her existence , a secret she dare not reveal to anyone else. no one else would understand her , & those who could never deigned to acknowledge her. perhaps that is for the better , as lonely an existence as it may be. at least she is unburdened by whatever divinity she may bear , at least her identity as aerith is no lie. not even seiros herself could make that untrue.

❛ great !! wherever you'd rather sit is fine. honestly , i don't eat in the mess hall much myself. ❜

' had i anticipated your arrival, i would have made myself presentable. more ladylike, i suppose, whatever that means. ' how many times has she been chastised for her unruliness? thinking about it causes her to think of hubert & worse of all, ferdinand, so she distracts herself as best she can — russet cape swept over shoulder as she stands small of stature, height dampened from those years spent clawing at a peek of dawn, fingers clawing at damp basement stone. she moves, sunflower body to radiant sun, work forgotten behind her momentarily as she greets aerith fully, shoulder to shoulder in mourning. edelgard hates facing the outside world, hates the students & the teachers here, hates most of all what her presence must mean to the other students — their inevitable betrayer in the flesh uncaring of their discomfort, name besmirched by those who slither in the dark reaching their fingers around her bird - bone & slender neck, all in the name of a revolution which will stain her country in infamy for the rest of the world's rotations. ' let us enjoy ourselves in the tea garden. there won't be any others around presumably & we can enjoy the weather. it is quite nice after all. '

what edelgard means to say is that anything is better than the damp underground. the swirling cerulean skies, the viridian fields that sprawl, even the wyverns & pegasi swirling overhead — the hint of aerith's natural perfume on the breeze. edelgard commits it to mind time & time again lest she ever end up beneath the crushing boot of the knights moralis who still lick at the heels of the archbishop herself, who no doubt would twist around in terror at the very sight of edelgard interacting with any of her most devout. it secretly delights her — the badness of her influence, the terror of her friendship. a wonderful start to her steadfast coup d'etat swiftly approaching. edelgard picks at her glove before offering her hand.

study of waldmuller's portrait of louise mayer, but featuring edelgard. it might look like i deviated a lot from the original, but actually the whole skin is pretty much based on it.

GENERAL ❛  run! i'll hold them off for as long as i can.  ❜ ❛  i can buy you some time. go, now!  ❜ ❛  i cause this, and i'll be the one to fix it. no matter the cost.  ❜ ❛  it's the only way!  ❜ ❛  no matter what it takes, i won't let anything happen to you.  ❜ ❛  i need to make this right. this is my only chance.  ❜ ❛  i'll go through this so we have a chance. it's a risk worth taking.  ❜ ❛  you're more important than me. so let me do this to save you.  ❜ ❛  putting your needs ahead of mine is the only way i know.  ❜ ❛  can't you see i'm trying to save you?  ❜ ❛  i'll promise to keep you safe for as long as i can.  ❜ ❛  you know i'd jump in front of a bullet for you, right?  ❜ ❛  there are some people worth dying for ...  ❜ ❛  i trusted you with everything, and this is how you repay me?  ❜ ❛  i promise, i'm gonna do everything in my power to protect you.  ❜ ❛  i'm willing to do whatever it takes to prove my worth to you.  ❜ ❛  you don't have to sacrifice yourself for me. we're in this together.  ❜ ❛  are you sure you want to give up your only chance at freedom?  ❜ ❛  go! i'm not sure how much longer i can hold on ...  ❜ ❛  forget about me and save yourself. please.  ❜

LOVE / RELATIONSHIPS ❛  i love you, but you deserve better than what i can offer.  ❜ ❛  your happiness means more to me than my own.  ❜ ❛  i have to let you go, even if it breaks my heart.  ❜ ❛  i'll support your dreams, even if it means letting go of mine.  ❜ ❛  if this is truly what you need, i'll go.  ❜ ❛  you're worth waiting for. no matter how long it takes until you come back.  ❜ ❛  this is going against everything i stand for, but i'll do it for you.  ❜ ❛  you will always have my unwavering support.  ❜ ❛  your smile is worth the sacrifices i'm willing to make.  ❜ ❛  sometimes, there are more important things than me. you, for example.  ❜ ❛  i will always love you, but we're not good for one another. so i'm letting you go.  ❜ ❛  you deserve to find happiness with someone who isn't as destructive as me.  ❜ ❛  you will always be my first choice, but i know i'll never be yours, and that's okay.  ❜ ❛  no matter what happens, you will always hold a special place in my heart.  ❜ ❛  i'm gonna do whatever it takes to make you smile again.  ❜ ❛  you make me wanna be better. you make me wanna be good.  ❜ ❛  you don't have to sacrifice your dreams just to fulfill mine.  ❜ ❛  if you don't want to be with me anymore, just say so and go.  ❜ ❛  i won't let you make any more decisions for me!  ❜ ❛  remember, i'm doing this because i love you.  ❜

❛ Have you eaten anything today? ❜

she walks away, as though locking him out hadn't been a point proven enough. though she doesn't linger long, only taking a moment to circle around the counter and back — and giving dean ample time to rethink his choice of words. this time when she opens the door, she's simpering at him. one would think he'd spit on the grave of her dear aunt margaret.