Closed RP account for Embla of Fire Emblem: Heroes. Affiliated with The Officers Academy.
Mobile Links: About Interview Stats Tags Mun
Portrayal Notes:
tumblr dot com

titsay

romaâ

if i look back, i am lost

ellievsbear
Sweet Seals For You, Always
AnasAbdin
art blog(derogatory)

izzy's playlists!
Aqua Utopiaïœæ”·ăźćșă§èšæ¶ă玥ă

KIROKAZE
we're not kids anymore.
Game of Thrones Daily

shark vs the universe

Love Begins
Stranger Things
dirt enthusiast
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Peter Solarz
seen from China

seen from Canada
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Belarus
seen from TĂŒrkiye
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Colombia

seen from United States

seen from Canada
@godofclosure
Closed RP account for Embla of Fire Emblem: Heroes. Affiliated with The Officers Academy.
Mobile Links: About Interview Stats Tags Mun
Portrayal Notes:

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
who let the goths mother this hard?
for: @godofclosure
Studies at the academy are all about preparing oneself for the future, and this consideration has led to an exercise onâŠparenting! A lucky few students and professors have been chosen to raise awareness for a monumental new program. Assigned with caring for a magically powered doll that requires rocking, reassuring, and cosseting (that will totally not scream and cry at set intervals through the night) what will you and your aptly dubbed âpartnerâ do to meet the challenge? Or will mommy and daddy fumble the diaper bag completely? [Grants Faith +1]
Looking at the doll, she was slightly disturbed by how real it looked. Freyja was one of the unlucky chosen participants. She frowned before taking a look at her " partner." Wait a second. Something about the woman reminded her of ZENITH. Perhaps it was the giant SIGIL behind her head? Freyja can't really put her finger on it. The white curls were familiar, but the last she saw someone with that hair, they didn't look so disheveled.
Ah, right. Let's focus on the 'child' instead. "...Are you even allowed to hold a child" Ok, well. That was rather blunt, oops. "You look like you cannot even take care of yourself, so... I'm not sure this is the best-suited job for you," Freyja stated, Oh, so matter-of-factly. "Worry not; this is not the first time for me. I'll teach you everything you need to know about an infant. Real or not." with a wave of her finger, she placed the baby cradled in her free arm, using magic to bring over pen and paper before presenting it to the other "take it. you'll need it."
Thereâs no way. There is absolutely NO way this is who she thinks this is. What is she doing hereâ WHY is she doing here?? First one of Helâs is casually wandering about that stupid island, now this? Is Zenith leaking? Has her absence caused Askrâs powers to go haywire from the imbalance?!?
No. No, thereâs little point in freaking out. If it is Askr, then apparently he doesnât care to consider it important enough to tell her heâs not dead. Askr thinks he doesnât need her? Fine. He can deal with whateverâs going on by himself. Who needs that idiot cow anyway?! She most definitely does not! She has better things to deal with!
âŠLike taking care of a fake baby. With the nightmare goat. Whose condescending voice is certainly just as punchable as she remembers.
âExcuse you?â Dragon growls, smacking away the pen and paper floating before her. âOf course Iâm allowed,â Ignoring the fact she does have a point â the odds of her being allowed in the presence of an actual infant are extremely low, considering the situation. âThisâŠÂ thing was entrusted to me just as much as it was entrusted to you.â
A fact she isnât necessarily happy about, and were it anyone else she wouldâve been glad to dump the âresponsibilityâ off on them. But nooooo, she just had to make it personal by insulting her. âTch.â She narrows her eyes at the âbabyâ. Why do humans always make them so small and weak? âItâs not as though itâs difficult. Just give it a name and send it off. If it comes back itâs competent, if not then clearly the thing wasnât worth the hassle to begin with, so who cares.â
Citrinne has to be honest - perhaps it was the palaceâs already uneasy vibes that made her ignore it, but the appearance of this teammate is justâŠpeculiar. Still, that does not prevent Citrinne from waving to her as she approaches with ice in hand.
âMind if I finish this with you by my side?â she offers, still taking in the full figure of the other while asking. âCitrinne, by the way. Iâm a noble soldier of Brodia, currently serving as a knight in the academy.â
âWould it be fine to ask who you are? Your contributions toward todayâs game were insightful - even if we were unable to make an audience with the Queen. Though honestly, Iâm fine avoiding confrontation with whoever rules one of these lousy islands.â
Not even a moment after they were declared losers of their game had she decided to try and sneak off while everyone was distracted, but apparently mere seconds was not fast enough. Or perhaps her hiding spot was simply lacking.Â
âFine. Do as you will.â âNot as though youâd listen anyway.â Embla sighs. So much for peace and quiet. If she remembers correctly, this was one of the more chatty ones during their little discussion. Just her luck.Â
Though, at the very least⊠she is being complimented. Maybe this one isnât completely  and utterly insufferable. Maybe.Â
âEmbla, priâŠâ No, wait. She canât say prisoner. While technically true by legal definition, she is no prisoner. Not to mention outing herself as a criminal in any form would certainly make interacting with anyone affiliated with the knights even more of a pain than it already is. Best to not. ââŠperson of interest, you could say.â
A beat of silence passes before she clears her throat. Clearly, that was not her finest recovery. Quicker she changes the subject, higher the odds are she doesnât notice. âI doubt there was ever a Queen to begin with. If there was, sheâs a lousy one. Not a follower in sight â Tch. Pathetic. At least losing saves us all the headache.â
TOA Anniversary Munday!!
I, too, have stolen this from Neffi. Iâm sorry you keep getting robbed crime has truly become such an epidemic in TOA itâs a shame really. Will no one keep our streets safe đ (if it wasnât obvious that was a joke ty neffi)
Activity Check [August]
Total Skill Points: (7) â> (9)
[+1 Any (Monthly), +1 Any (Knowledge Gem)]
Skill Up: Heavy Armor (E) â> (D)
Claims: Mage, Dark Mage, Hexlock Shield, Voice Box, Sabotage, Cardboard Box, Personal Skill: Absolute Closure
Threads
Waiting for response: (Take your time!)
N/A
In drafts:
bon cop bad cop â w/ Yunaka
Ask â Citrinne
If you donât see your thread here, please DM me. It may have gotten lost in my records.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
"A moment of your time!" Emcee catches up to you before you can disperse to your room or rejoin with your teammates, or wherever else it is you're heading off to.
"This way, this way." The strange host ushers you into a small shack, curtained off from the outside. They offer you a chair and a bright lamp hangs overhead.
"Now then," they start, positioning themselves across from you. "You hoarded the most coins during your game this week. Miss Money Bags - has a ring to it! Tell us about your strategy."
In their hand is a voice amplifying stick, which they hold out to you now.
Only two steps off the train, and sheâs already being harassed yet again. In the moment, though she follows, she wonders... Just how bad would it be if she tried to kill this guy? Do they really need âEmceeâ?
A sigh and a shake of the head, and the thought is gone. A second interview⊠something like that must mean that the âaudienceâ, whoever that may be, actually like her... Which totally doesnât matter, of course â she doesnât need anyone to like her, sheâs not weak enough to want that and itâs completely irrelevant information. Sheâs here to win, not âmake friendsâ. One canât exactly win a game with no host to run it. Thatâs the only reason to let this play out.
âŠThough maybe the thought isnât entirely gone. Shining another bright light on her after she had made so clear how against that she was is certainly not helping the host. Ow, her eye again. Rude x2.
âThere is no âstrategyâ.â She leans back into the chair with a slight huff and roll of the eye. How the question managed to become even more pointlessly ridiculous than the time prior is beyond her. Strategy? To the dumb shiny thing mortals obsess over? Seriously?? What is she supposed to do? Use the money as bait for even more money??? Thatâs stupid.
âThere were coins on the ground and I picked them up. This is nothing revolutionary about this. The fact my opponent couldnât keep hold on his finds for more than a few seconds sounds to me like it wasâŠÂ what was it the mortals call itâŠ? A âskill issueâ?â Saying the words feel incorrect. A feeling only solidified by the pang she feels soon after. Ah. That must be âcringeâ.
âŠHumans have the dumbest words for everything donât they.
âI did say our victory was assured, did I not? Itâs not my fault he didnât surrender when I gave him the option.âA beat, then she leans into the stick a little. She isnât quite sure where others may be viewing this from, but she makes a point to look up to where she thinks any visual recording may be happening from, however that may be, just to really drive her point home.Â
âOther teams⊠Thereâs still time. Donât make the same mistake your little red-haired friend made. Make the right choice, and just give up.â
She is still feeling slightly spiteful of the whole ordeal. Not that the WHOLE rat team deserves this, but who is she to pick and choose who gets crickets and who doesn't? So, in the dead of night, Anselma has left a lovely giftâa box of crickets. Enjoy the song of their people! Watch as they hop around you! Fear them!
ââŠHm.â What an odd box. She had nearly kicked it on her way back to âherâ room, the box only saved by the chirping emanating from it moments before. Now, she instead crouches in front of the box, peering into it, watching the small creatures hop about and chirp.
Those are crickets. Those are definitely crickets. But why are there crickets? Who just leaves a box of crickets? Whatâs the point in that? Is it like leaving a baby? Is she expected to take care of this now???
Slowly, Embla finds herself rising to her feet, the box of crickets now rising with her as she carries it surprisingly gently, rather than leaving it on the floor. SheâŠÂ supposes, she can keep them?? Less revolting than a mortal child would have been, certainly. Crickets are delightful. She has no idea who would abandon such a thing.
ââŠYour name shall be Elm 2.â She mutters quietly to no cricket in particular, approaching the door properly now, crickets in tow. No point to giving them separate names, anyway. No one can tell them apart. They probably canât even tell themselves apart.Â
Shifting the weight of the box to one arm, she reaches out to open the doorâŠ
Then closes it, once she sees the boy down on all fours andâŠÂ eating, or at the very least hunting the insects as if heâs some sort of cat. Because that is sane and normal behavior, of course. She is the weird one in this room. Truly, what is wrong with the mortals? Askr threw his life away for this???
âŠPerhaps she should remain outside for the night.
"A moment of your time!" Emcee catches up to you before you can disperse to your room or rejoin with your teammates, or wherever else it is you're heading off to.
"This way, this way." The strange host ushers you into a small shack, curtained off from the outside. They offer you a chair and a bright lamp hangs overhead.
"Now then," they start, positioning themselves across from you. "Your team is currently in 1st place. Do you think you're poised to take the win?"
In their hand is a voice amplifying stick, which they hold out to you now.
Embla fails to suppress a groan of annoyance at the sudden interruption. Seriously? She already did their thing, she just wants to go inside where itâs dark. Her everything is killing her.
Still, this one seems to be important around here, so she follows with minimal grumbling as sheâs lead away. And with minimal hissing when they suddenly shine a light in her face and shove some weird device in front of her, which deserves far more acknowledgment than it gets. Ow, her eye. Rude.
She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms as she leans back in her seat with a sigh. âThis is what you dragged me here for?â Typical, of course it is. Fail her in front of everyone even though she totally completed the task, then passive-aggressively mock her for being the only one on her team to fail. This whole island just wants her to suffer.
It only said âprovoke someone into starting a fightâ. Thatâs what she did. Itâs not her fault the fight didnât go beyond the start, that person was crazy.
âOf course victory is assured. Is that not already obvious?â Honestly, this is already a waste of time. Who is this even for? âItâs pathetic, really. With how far the gap is, you may as well declare us the winners now and save yourselves the effort. And me the torment.â
From a distance, Maria sees someone she hadn't expected to see: Miss Embla, who had seemed to disdain most things light and bright and especially festive in the little time she had known her. Which made her presence here all the more curious, and especially worrying. What was Happyland so far if not a surfeit of light, bright, and festive?
So she circles around, returning a few minutes later with a simple flask of water. The heat and sunshine could be brutal, especially for those less accustomed to it.
"Hi, Miss Embla!" Maria smiles as she approaches, but keeps the exuberance of her voice to a gentle minimum, holding out the glass for the other to take. "It's pretty bright out here, huh? Here's some water, just in case."
The girl from the illusion⊠Maria, she believes it was? Strange, she can never seem to recall the name of mortals, nor does she ever care to, and yet⊠The sun must truly be getting to her.
Embla had of course noticed her amongst the crowd (as well as how she unfortunately wears a color different from her own this time, disappointingly), but she hadnât expected she to be noticed. Or approached, for that matter. And to be given an offering no less, on such a thoughtful premiseâŠ
âHmph. Do not worry yourself over me. I am fine.â Slightly-less-clawed hand takes the glass, only a slight hesitation in it, for once. This mortal doesnât strike her as the type to poison such a thing as water. When was the last time she had water, anyway? Yesterday? A week ago? Centuries ago? Time is a blur.
âI should hope you have been⊠âhydratingâ as well. It would be inconvenient to your team if you were to pass out. Or worse.â It feels odd, advocating against ill will befalling her âenemiesâ. By all accounts, she should want them to pass out, or away. It would make winning easier, should their numbers thin. Still, she would prefer it happen to another, instead of her water source.
Does Death Count As A Severance Policy? || Thrasir & Embla
Week 1 - objectives - central island
continued from here @willowitxh
Embla nearly trips. Who does this insignificant speck think she is?Â
The words feel targeted, like an arrow aimed straight at where her heart would be if one still remained. Of course, they arenât â couldnât be, but if they were they would certainly strike a nerve. Which she knows, because they did anyway.
âAnd here I thought humanity prided themselves on self-sufficiency.âShe fires a glare right back. âYou want to do everything yourself, but the moment something goes wrong itâs always someone else whoâs to blame. Typical. Itâs pathetic, really.â
âPatheticâ is an understatement. Itâs infuriating, really. The arrogance of the statement, to believe that gods have a say in death? To then get angry when they donât? They think she hasnât tried? Of course she had, and she has no doubt the cow had too when his human pet died.Â
Only because itâs an inconvenience, investing so much into a mortal, only to lose them in the blink of an eye. All the time and energy down the drain, reduced to nothing. Left to just replace them with the next of kin â but itâs never the same. Doesnât matter how many years, decades, centuries go by. No one will ever be the same.
Thrasir, in her subconscious, stepped back and allowed Veronica to speak. As though she wasn't Veronica herself. She was, but only LĂf could call her that. Only LĂf could acknowledge that. The dead girl was furious. Magic sparkled to life in her hands, hands that once would have killed for the goddess.
"Self-sufficiency is what we strive for, but when that self-sufficiency is ripped away from us, by another god no less," Veronica said, though being as she was still Thrasir, fully being able to express anger was beyond her, "I think we can rightfully wish our own to take action."
Scarlet red fire flared towards Embla, as Thrasir allowed the magic to escape her finger tips. She would have died for Embla. Instead her humanity was stripped from her and she became Hel's puppet instead.
"Where is one's "self-sufficiency" when an army of undead is cutting lives down to be added to their ranks, after all?"
The heat of flame flies past, only barely missing thanks to already having her guard up, but for once an attempted assassination is the least of her concerns. This is beginning to sound far too similar to Helâs behavior. Itâs discomforting. Sheâs discomforting.
The initial conversation may have been brought upon for the purpose of her objective, but itâs grown far beyond that. So much so that it feels⊠wrong, knowing that out there, somewhere, somehow, thereâs an audience. Far from the first time since her arrival in the worlds, she wished her power of closure still functioned.
ââŠYou put too much faith in the gods.â It feels ironic to say, having been one who once thrived off such faith. Ironic further how little faith she finds herself having in them, too. âInherently selfish beings, all of them. They might help you here and there, but the moment something big happens, theyâre never anywhere to be found.â
Her own words sting her almost just as much as the flames, yet she canât deny its truth. Sheâs not blind, she knows her people believe she abandoned them. Doesnât matter that they abandoned her first, that fellow gods turned on her too in her hour of need, mortals only care what she doesnât do. Never what she did. Thereâs no doubt whatever god this one followed is the same. No point in giving false hope.
âIt does not matter how much you âprayâ. They will never hear you.â She scoffs again, though a tiny, harmless cloud of what magic in her still remains nudges at the otherâs leg, pushing her away from the cliff she has no doubt was long forgotten. Just in case. Death is inconvenient, after all. If theyâre going to fight, sheâd rather it be where they each have a fair shot. Not because she cares. âIf you canât stand on your own, you have no right to be alive.â
Thrasir stepped closer to Embla, feeling the puff of magic nudge her leg. Oh. She knew.
"I know the gods are selfish," she said, a new spell sparking to life in her hands. "It's impossible not to know. But I disagree with them not hearing me."
Fire crackled with more force this time, it weakened the cliff face she walked on. Good, perhaps this would satisfy her objective. Bread and circuses.
"Some of them hear and laugh at you." Because Hel had. "And no, I don't have a right to be alive. I'm an abomination, a long discarded tool, but as much as it would have been nice for a different outcome; Hel won't let me die!"
Unleashing the magic caused the cliff to shatter under her own feet and she suddenly found herself falling. Instinctively, Thrasir reached up and caught the remaining edge. Now she was truly at Embla's mercy.
"So go on, let me fall then," she grit out. "Since you don't care after all."
Hel. She says the name outright.Â
Emblaâs eye visibly widens, both from words spoken and action taken. Is she from Midgard? Had she been right after all? Then, would that mean those words truly were meant forâŠ?
No. Of course not. Impossible. Embla is fine. It must be some other kingdom, or some insignificant town on the outskirts that was taken. An Askran, probably. If it was one of hers she would know. Their blood is hers, she knows her own blood. Though this one doesnât have anyâŠ
A blink, then another. Snap out of it. Now isnât the time for that. She might not care about her, but sheâd rather be set ablaze than allow the only other connection she has to the world she calls âhersâ perish.Â
Hardly a moment passes before sheâs knelt at the cliffside, gripping the otherâs arm tightly. âWhat are you doing, you fool?!â She hisses out, pulling on her arm to drag the assumed Askran back onto the ledge. She ignores the screaming voice in the back of her mind, shouting how this is so obviously a trap.
âAre you stupid?! Where did you think that little stunt of yours would get you, huh? Glory? Honor? Or are you just making a statement?â Itâs strange, but for a moment, her mind recalls saying something along those lines before, long agoâŠÂ Of course circumstances were different, that was back when she could care. This lecture is just a formality.Â
âŠTheir hair is kind of similar.
The lone eye is quick to dart away. She huffs once again, rising to her own feet. âI believe it is safe to say the islandâs center had best go unexplored, for now. Go back to your little weasel friends.â She only says it because itâs logical. If the terrain is bad now, itâs sure to get worse further in. Someone in a bad mindset shouldnât be walking it. For the fairness of the game. Or⊠something.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
olympics cardboard bed arsenic energy but its the entire room | team rat - room a
closed starter for @godofclosure @knighteclipsed @arcelerity
As expected, he begins a second round. Good, they shouldnât need more than the two. Her genius plan is working perfectly. Equally expected.
Embla does not know what the other options are! Scissors again!
âŠIs that supposed to happen? Itâs the same as last time, which was a draw, so this certainly looks like another tie⊠What does âwinâ and âloseâ in this situation even look like?
âHm. Well then.â That was not in the plan. Ugh, this is taking forever. Friendly thoughts, Embla, friendly... Her âsmileâ widens. âAnother round?â
Aaaand they tie again. Dammit. Okay, okay. One more time...
"You got it!"
Tormod chooses paper this time! He's tempted to pick scissors again for the psychological warfare but also he just wants this to end!
Haha scissors go brr
A different outcome, surprisingly. Or, perhaps, not so surprisingly. She assumes ties must be abnormal, at least. What kind of game results in only ties?
Judging by her opponentâs expression though⊠seems she won. âHm,â Not exactly in the plan, but alright. âI suppose I get the⊠âtop bunkâ, you said? Lucky meâŠâ
Her âskirtâ twitches, very nearly unfurling her wings to fly to the top before catching herself. Thankfully. Does she care if sheâs exposed as inhuman? No. But this room is far too small for her wingspan. She may be stronger than most, and more resilient to pain at that, but smacking her wings against a wall would still hurt. Nothing wrong with climbing the ladder provided. The end result remains the same â sitting, and looking down on the others.
âŠTop bunk isnât so bad, actually.
Does Death Count As A Severance Policy? || Thrasir & Embla
Week 1 - objectives - central island
continued from here @willowitxh
Embla nearly trips. Who does this insignificant speck think she is?Â
The words feel targeted, like an arrow aimed straight at where her heart would be if one still remained. Of course, they arenât â couldnât be, but if they were they would certainly strike a nerve. Which she knows, because they did anyway.
âAnd here I thought humanity prided themselves on self-sufficiency.âShe fires a glare right back. âYou want to do everything yourself, but the moment something goes wrong itâs always someone else whoâs to blame. Typical. Itâs pathetic, really.â
âPatheticâ is an understatement. Itâs infuriating, really. The arrogance of the statement, to believe that gods have a say in death? To then get angry when they donât? They think she hasnât tried? Of course she had, and she has no doubt the cow had too when his human pet died.Â
Only because itâs an inconvenience, investing so much into a mortal, only to lose them in the blink of an eye. All the time and energy down the drain, reduced to nothing. Left to just replace them with the next of kin â but itâs never the same. Doesnât matter how many years, decades, centuries go by. No one will ever be the same.
Thrasir, in her subconscious, stepped back and allowed Veronica to speak. As though she wasn't Veronica herself. She was, but only LĂf could call her that. Only LĂf could acknowledge that. The dead girl was furious. Magic sparkled to life in her hands, hands that once would have killed for the goddess.
"Self-sufficiency is what we strive for, but when that self-sufficiency is ripped away from us, by another god no less," Veronica said, though being as she was still Thrasir, fully being able to express anger was beyond her, "I think we can rightfully wish our own to take action."
Scarlet red fire flared towards Embla, as Thrasir allowed the magic to escape her finger tips. She would have died for Embla. Instead her humanity was stripped from her and she became Hel's puppet instead.
"Where is one's "self-sufficiency" when an army of undead is cutting lives down to be added to their ranks, after all?"
The heat of flame flies past, only barely missing thanks to already having her guard up, but for once an attempted assassination is the least of her concerns. This is beginning to sound far too similar to Helâs behavior. Itâs discomforting. Sheâs discomforting.
The initial conversation may have been brought upon for the purpose of her objective, but itâs grown far beyond that. So much so that it feels⊠wrong, knowing that out there, somewhere, somehow, thereâs an audience. Far from the first time since her arrival in the worlds, she wished her power of closure still functioned.
ââŠYou put too much faith in the gods.â It feels ironic to say, having been one who once thrived off such faith. Ironic further how little faith she finds herself having in them, too. âInherently selfish beings, all of them. They might help you here and there, but the moment something big happens, theyâre never anywhere to be found.â
Her own words sting her almost just as much as the flames, yet she canât deny its truth. Sheâs not blind, she knows her people believe she abandoned them. Doesnât matter that they abandoned her first, that fellow gods turned on her too in her hour of need, mortals only care what she doesnât do. Never what she did. Thereâs no doubt whatever god this one followed is the same. No point in giving false hope.
âIt does not matter how much you âprayâ. They will never hear you.â She scoffs again, though a tiny, harmless cloud of what magic in her still remains nudges at the otherâs leg, pushing her away from the cliff she has no doubt was long forgotten. Just in case. Death is inconvenient, after all. If theyâre going to fight, sheâd rather it be where they each have a fair shot. Not because she cares. âIf you canât stand on your own, you have no right to be alive.â
Does Death Count As A Severance Policy? || Thrasir & Embla
Week 1 - objectives - central island
continued from here @willowitxh
Embla nearly trips. Who does this insignificant speck think she is?Â
The words feel targeted, like an arrow aimed straight at where her heart would be if one still remained. Of course, they arenât â couldnât be, but if they were they would certainly strike a nerve. Which she knows, because they did anyway.
âAnd here I thought humanity prided themselves on self-sufficiency.âShe fires a glare right back. âYou want to do everything yourself, but the moment something goes wrong itâs always someone else whoâs to blame. Typical. Itâs pathetic, really.â
âPatheticâ is an understatement. Itâs infuriating, really. The arrogance of the statement, to believe that gods have a say in death? To then get angry when they donât? They think she hasnât tried? Of course she had, and she has no doubt the cow had too when his human pet died.Â
Only because itâs an inconvenience, investing so much into a mortal, only to lose them in the blink of an eye. All the time and energy down the drain, reduced to nothing. Left to just replace them with the next of kin â but itâs never the same. Doesnât matter how many years, decades, centuries go by. No one will ever be the same.
Does Death Count As A Severance Policy? || Thrasir & Embla
Week 1 - objectives - central island
That silly paper she had been handed taunted her, even though she had tossed it aside soon after receiving it. What even did it even mean anyway? Not that Thrasir was too worried about it. After receiving it, she decided to go further into the centre of the central island. Find whatever was at the heart of it.
Was it dangerous? Absolutely. Did Thrasir care? Absolutely not.
What was there to care about? Death? She couldn't die. Not that anyone on this... adventure knew that. Sure, it would be inconvenient to be unconscious for who knows how long, but what was reward without risk?
The company she had been left with though left much to be desired. Was the Embla of her own failed world still alive? Did the Embla of her world care that her followers were all dead? And what did this Embla know? All these questions were unknown. Subconsciously, Thrasir wondered if whatever was left of Veronica resented Embla for not stepping in.
"A rather different terrain to what I am used to," Thrasir said out loud, to see how Embla would respond.
@godofclosure
Embla had been given a simple objective, in her mind. The paper she had been given had hosted exactly what she had wanted, though it was also the only option she had payed any mind to. Perhaps they were all simple. Unsurprising. She doubts the mortals here could handle anything longer than a sentence.
The hardest part, she had thought, would be finding a target. But even that proved simple. A stranger wanting to âexploreâ took surprisingly easy to her offer to join. Especially considering theâŠÂ strangeness about her.
She reeks of death. Helâs death. Yet that couldnât be right. Not only would that make her from Midgard â impossible in its own right â Helâs soldiers have always been mindless. This one has individuality. A name.
A name she mustâve heard incorrectly â thereâs no way she said âThrasirâ.Â
Her senses must have weakened further than she thought if sheâs making mistakes like this.Â
âIs that so?â Even if sheâs mistaking the mark of Hel on the otherâs being, death is unmistakable. Whatever realm the dead walk in Fodlan canât be too different from the glimpses sheâs seen of Midgardâs in the past; dark and unwelcoming. Annoyingly not too unsimilar to her own realm, but hers is far superior, of course.
âPerhaps the islandâs heart is darker. I assume that would be whatâs familiar to you.â
Thrasir kept her eyes ahead as she walked. It wouldn't do to trip and fall after all. It wouldn't do to provoke a goddess into fighting her. Ah, so the remnants of Veronica's heart did resent Embla. Fascinating, not that the lich cared. That the woman would assume what terrain would be familiar though...
"Nay, I believe the island's heart is more volatile," Thrasir hummed, a small smirk crossed her face as she glanced back at Embla. "With potential severe consequences for wrong moves. That is what I'm more used to."
Somewhere that she could manipulate. One well placed spell to upset the delicate balance so she could move in with LĂf and rain death and destruction upon a world. A gleam came to Thrasir's eyes as she recalled how she worked at Hel's weapon.
The current path they were on was hardly that sort of place, though. But it was a steep path, wide, but sheer cliff drop on one side and cliff face on the other. Certainly one wrong move could cause a fall, but that would require a weakness in the path somewhere.
On the surface, the god merely hums, bored expression ever present. But on the inside, the otherâs response⊠confuses her, to say the least. She may not have ever gone in Helâs realm (she despises that woman, if one can even call her that), but she couldâve sworn it seemed like darkened skies lived beyond. Perhaps this worldâs equivalent is a kinder death? It doesnât sound right, but until she meets this worldâs sovereign, she has no way to know.
Alternatively⊠is she being threatened? She smirked. She saw it. No one smirks with good intention. Is she going to try to push her off the cliff? Her âskirtâ shifts slightly. Thereâs a reason she chooses to walk behind when traveling with another, but should her âpartnerâ strike even without the element of surprise, her wings will be ready.
Now to act like she suspects nothing.Â
âYou almost speak as though youâre experienced with such âconsequencesâ. Messed up that badly, did you? How tragic.â She huffs a sharp laugh, though perhaps one that leans more towards âmockingâ than âfriendlyâ. Something sort of cathartic, in a way. Acting âniceâ has been exhausting. If her following the instructions of her objective just so happens to give rise to the option of a break from that⊠who is she to refuse?Â
Besides, itâs not like this stranger is anyone important to her. Bridges can be burned. And how fun it is to watch the flames. âI jest. Surely you mustnât have if you still remain... Unless you truly are that much of a failure.â
Does Death Count As A Severance Policy? || Thrasir & Embla
Week 1 - objectives - central island
That silly paper she had been handed taunted her, even though she had tossed it aside soon after receiving it. What even did it even mean anyway? Not that Thrasir was too worried about it. After receiving it, she decided to go further into the centre of the central island. Find whatever was at the heart of it.
Was it dangerous? Absolutely. Did Thrasir care? Absolutely not.
What was there to care about? Death? She couldn't die. Not that anyone on this... adventure knew that. Sure, it would be inconvenient to be unconscious for who knows how long, but what was reward without risk?
The company she had been left with though left much to be desired. Was the Embla of her own failed world still alive? Did the Embla of her world care that her followers were all dead? And what did this Embla know? All these questions were unknown. Subconsciously, Thrasir wondered if whatever was left of Veronica resented Embla for not stepping in.
"A rather different terrain to what I am used to," Thrasir said out loud, to see how Embla would respond.
@godofclosure
Embla had been given a simple objective, in her mind. The paper she had been given had hosted exactly what she had wanted, though it was also the only option she had payed any mind to. Perhaps they were all simple. Unsurprising. She doubts the mortals here could handle anything longer than a sentence.
The hardest part, she had thought, would be finding a target. But even that proved simple. A stranger wanting to âexploreâ took surprisingly easy to her offer to join. Especially considering theâŠÂ strangeness about her.
She can sense no blood running through her veins, only an essence that reeks of death. Helâs death. Yet that couldnât be right. Not only would that make her from Midgard â impossible in its own right â Helâs soldiers have always been mindless. This one has individuality. A name.
A name she mustâve heard incorrectly â thereâs no way she said âThrasirâ.Â
Her senses must have weakened further than she thought if sheâs making mistakes like this.Â
âIs that so?â Even if sheâs mistaking the mark of Hel on the otherâs being, death is unmistakable. Whatever realm the dead walk in Fodlan canât be too different from the glimpses sheâs seen of Midgardâs in the past; dark and unwelcoming. Annoyingly not too unsimilar to her own realm, but hers is far superior, of course.
âPerhaps the islandâs heart is darker. I assume that would be whatâs familiar to you.â

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
olympics cardboard bed arsenic energy but its the entire room | team rat - room a
closed starter for @godofclosure @knighteclipsed @arcelerity
What in the worlds is this kid saying. âRo...sham...boââŠ? What does that even mean? She thought they were playing whatever ârock paper scissorsâ is?? Are they synonymous?? Why call it one thing if youâre just going to turn around and call it something else????
Ah, well, theyâre already going. Who cares. Just copy the kid and get it over with.Â
Embla âchoosesâ scissors!
Mimicking the⊠whatever that is heâs doing with his hands is easy enough. The heightened senses that come with being divine make it easier to cover the fact she doesnât know what sheâs doing, anyway. Or maybe this game is just easy. Itâs been, what, three seconds and itâs already over? Typical mortal attention span.
âAh, seems we tie. What a shame.â Embla gives a faint shrug of her shoulders to further sell the âunintentionalâ feeling of the outcome. âI assume you donât want to share,â Yggdrasil knows she doesnât, sheâd rather die, âSo what say we go again, hm?â
"Aw, draw! Yeah." That would happen first time. At least she seems to know how to play the game? "Yeah, no offense but I am not interested in sharing a bed with you or anyone here."
Okay. Round two then.
"Ro...sham...bo!"
They never expect the double scissors maneuver.
As expected, he begins a second round. Good, they shouldnât need more than the two. Her genius plan is working perfectly. Equally expected.
Embla does not know what the other options are! Scissors again!
âŠIs that supposed to happen? Itâs the same as last time, which was a draw, so this certainly looks like another tie⊠What does âwinâ and âloseâ in this situation even look like?
âHm. Well then.â That was not in the plan. Ugh, this is taking forever. Friendly thoughts, Embla, friendly... Her âsmileâ widens. âAnother round?â
olympics cardboard bed arsenic energy but its the entire room | team rat - room a
closed starter for @godofclosure @knighteclipsed @arcelerity
A god has no need for sleep. One may choose to sleep, on occasion, but she doesnât have to. The divine are above that. Though even if she werenât, whichbed wouldnât matter. Why anyone would care about such mundane and inconsequential things are beyond her.
As expected, the professor speaks for peace, and the knight for violence. Predictable a scene as ever. She may as well be able to act out the rest of the interaction from here. âNoooo, Valter, you canât kill people, killing bad :(â âhahaha maniacal laughter stab stabâ then they cry or whatever. Something dumb like that. Probably.
Embla rolls her eye at the interaction, though the action likely goes unnoticed due to the shadows sheâs chosen to make her home for the conversation. âIf we kill each other now, we will be fewer in number when the time comes for competition.â Which hardly matters â she could win this whole thing solo, sheâs certain â but would still be inconvenient. Who will they use as sacrifice later if the weak among them are already dead? If theyâre going to die either way (which of course they will, theyâre mortals), at least let them die in a useful way.
Dragon steps forward to position herself in front of the other two. If they are this predictable, she may as well use it to her advantage. Play nice for a while, gain a bit of trust. She offers a smile â unpracticed and unnatural (and perhaps still unsettling despite her efforts), but a smile regardless. âI see nothing wrong with the professorâs idea. In fact, I volunteer myself for first round of this âactivityâ.â
She doesnât know how to play any human games, let alone whatever ârock paper scissorsâ is, but thatâs fine. Sheâll just copy whatever her opponent does for a round then âloseâ on purpose. Itâs not like sheâll be sleeping in this room anyway.
Embla is...surprisingly a voice of reason, here. Which rubs Tormod the wrong way, but he'll take it for now. Valter getting ganged up on is too good to pass up.
The way she talks about rock paper scissors is...really weird? It feels like she puts emphasis on words just to mess with people. It's unnerving. But it's also funny, because she looks like she's trying so hard to look like a certain type of dark mage or something similar. If she were to ask him, she should probably try less.
...huh, wait. Her ears are pretty pointy, huh? And she lives in the basement, is dodgy about where she comes rom... Suddenly, things click into place. She must be some kind of laguz! Her red eyes are pretty draconian if he's judging her Tellius-like, but there are so many different kinds of laguz he's learned about she could be a squirrel for all he knows.
Anyway. She's still weird, but it makes a lot more sense now. And if she's evil it's a bit more understandable.
"Okay! I'll match ya for it. I definitely want a top bunk. Ro...sham...bo!"
Tormod chooses scissors!
What in the worlds is this kid saying. âRo...sham...boââŠ? What does that even mean? She thought they were playing whatever ârock paper scissorsâ is?? Are they synonymous?? Why call it one thing if youâre just going to turn around and call it something else????
Ah, well, theyâre already going. Who cares. Just copy the kid and get it over with.Â
Embla âchoosesâ scissors!
Mimicking the⊠whatever that is heâs doing with his hands is easy enough. The heightened senses that come with being divine make it easier to cover the fact she doesnât know what sheâs doing, anyway. Or maybe this game is just easy. Itâs been, what, three seconds and itâs already over? Typical mortal attention span.
âAh, seems we tie. What a shame.â Embla gives a faint shrug of her shoulders to further sell the âunintentionalâ feeling of the outcome. âI assume you donât want to share,â Yggdrasil knows she doesnât, sheâd rather die, âSo what say we go again, hm?â