Zephyr of Change

All that practice… well, Hubert couldn’t say that he was terribly surprised by the results. Disappointed wasn’t the right word either. Not that he would admit it over something that, ultimately, meant very little. But when their routine came to its conclusion, and Hubert finally glanced down to look his partner in the eye, he saw all the emotions that he tried to avoid there instead.

Their final move had been bold - for them, at least - and Hubert carefully set Bernadetta back on her feet, his hand leaving its place at the small of her back just a few seconds after. But his other hand remained clasping hers as if forgotten, until she released it to duck beneath his cape.

“Bernadetta.” Hubert raised his arm to look at her, but he knew coaxing her out would be futile as well. He had nothing to say, he realized. An apology for failing her expectations battled with his realistic view of the competition, and in the end neither made it into words. So he simply let her hide. He looked toward their opponents. It would be difficult for them to do much worse than they had.

Next: @prhyst @headsantails​

Style: 9 Choreography: 7 Technique: 2 Overall: 18

With each step they seemed to be more and more in sync, following each other’s steps and gauging what the other would do next. Their technique - well, the juries’ vote spoke for itself - was by then nonexistent, which, however, didn’t make the performance any worse, as eyes were glued to the pair from all over the hall.

Ranulf was even starting to get bold, trying to (with limited success) incorporate acrobatical elements into the dance, not really suited for that. Weirdly enough, it worked. Sure it earned quite a few scoffs from the elderly judging the competition, but even they wouldn’t argue it brought a unique flow into the performance. At that nine in style he was proud and almost boastful. 

The two in technique was humbling and frankly quite needed.

Sparing only so much as a glance and a nod at their competitors, he turned to Rhys again. “How’s that, eh?”

hollow knight

As the days grow colder, students balk at the idea of walking around outside in the cold, especially late at night. Whispers of a shortcut quickly spread through the student body: if you’re coming from the library, you can go through the gallery hall to get back to the dorms. It’s not long until this path is marred by rumors of an armored thief stealing people’s books and essays late at night. There’s a reward if you unmask the criminal, but soon enough you find out that there’s more to this criminal than you thought. Too bad the realization only comes when one of the armored knights on display is magically brought to life, brandishing its sword at you. [Grants +1 Sword]

Initially, Clair thought little of the rumors of a thief prowling the corridor between the gallery hall and dormitories making their way through the student body of the Officers Academy. She chalked up to the latest tall tale in the Garreg Mach rumor mill, a baseless conversation topic for students to discuss in the fleeting moments of offtime between training and classes. Surely if there was a thief prowling the halls of the Academy, the Church would have sent their knights to make short work of them!

But then the bid for the thief’s capture comes forward, along with the offer of a handsome reward to those who can catch them, and Clair’s sentiment on the matter changes almost instantaneously. The Battle of Eagle and Lion had long passed, but the young knight is still nursing a sore ego. Eager to capture the miscreant herself and prove her self-worth once more (though to who, it is unclear), Clair has taken to hovering about the fabled hallway after hours, Shockstick in hand. Most students give her a wide berth. As the nights pass, however, Clair returns to her dormitory empty-handed.

One night, she makes the decision to enter the hallway proper to lie in ambush. Clair presses herself up against the wall, lodged between a suit of armor and a trophy case, and waits. And waits, and waits, and waits. She nearly dozes off before the sound of approaching footsteps stirs her from her stupor.

The thief! she thinks, snapping awake. Lance outstretched, Clair lunges forward – only to be met with the two-toned eyes of the cat-eared professor. She skids to a stop, lance missing his torso by a hair’s breadth.

“Oh! Professor!” she exclaims, hastily withdrawing the shaft of her spear. “My sincerest apologies, I had thought you to be the villain who wandered this corridor. Have you come in search of the thief as well?”

Clair had become so caught up in her fuss over the sudden appearance of the professor, she hardly notices the suit of armor beside her begin to creak...

Uh.

It had been a bit since he had last been held at lancepoint. Caught off-guard, he prepared to transform, right until he heard the sorry gasp and saw the weapon withdraw. A student. Of course, who else would bother with these antics. Ambush in a dark passageway... that could have ended poorly. How did he not notice her being there?

On second thought, no, she was much better with stealth than another acquaintance of his. And he let his senses dull a bit, not believing he's in any danger on the academy grounds. Fool.

"You know, I'd report you to Seteth, but you did catch me unprepared and that commands respect," he said. "Thief? Those rumors of someone stealing essays? Nope, don't quite believe that's anything more that someone's imagination. Why'd someone steal that many essays?"

He kept talking, yet the recent encounter definitely sharpened him back up. 

“Ah, sorry.” Rhys sheepishly slowed down, but still stayed cheerful. The chance to do something like this had been nonexistent all his life. This was truly the peak of peacetime- celebrations and time with companions. He couldn’t ask for more.

Rhys nodded along to Ranulf at first, but he gasped and put a hand on his chest without thinking near the end, clanking hangers of clothes he was holding together. “Scorned?! Nonsense, I really think you’ll look good in whatever you pick. People look better in what they like wearing, so you can’t make a bad choice if you look at it that way, right?” It was difficult to imagine Ranulf in anything but the orange cap and his usual, but that was the fun of finding a new look for a day.

Ranulf was right, his words close to Rhys’s own thoughts. He did want something a little different. Rhys picked up one of the outfits Ranulf had mentioned. He held it up, to himself, looking at the emerald green against his chest. “Maybe…” he trailed off and set it back down, reaching instead for the white jacket. However, instead of gauging it against himself, he handed it to Ranulf. “How about this on you? Quartz has served me well awhile, after all.”

He ignored the tailor, but he did smile. “Haha, sleeve seams ripping apart have never been an issue for me.” Rhys flexed with his free arm and then broke into a bashful laugh and how nothing showed under his robes. “No, not me! Ha. You though, whether or not the sleeves stay on, you can show off, you know? You’re really lean and toned, and so strong, I- er, you know that.” His face felt warm and he reached out for something close to him- a light blue suit. “I’ll try this, I think! Then we’ll see how we look!”

At that, Ranulf shot him an amused look. "You've got taste, Rhys," was his only response, as he turned to the jacket. Quartz, hmm... For the laguz colours didn't exist in separation with nature, and so with spiritual meaning. In the modern age one wouldn't find a Gallian who didn't know the words 'white' or 'black', yet all still preferred the traditional 'quartz' and 'charcoal'. Especially since the meaning of the colours seemed to differ in beorc lands. 

For them, white was 'pure', 'untainted', which Ranulf was not, and never intended to be. For Rhys, it was true as dawn and dusk, and that's why it worked. For Ranulf.. quartz was known as a healing stone first and foremost, but also quite widely as the "Universal Crystal', known to aid with anything and everything. Meditation, protection, channeling... it was held in high regard by laguz healers for many various reasons.

All of that did sound quite familiar.

He caught himself staring at the jacket, no doubt looking deep in thought. Not that those were offending, just not really pleasant. Why so? He was no longer in Tellius, there was no need for all the gemstone worship so prevalent back home. And yet, as he was trying to move away from that image, of himself as no one but an advisor to the everchanging King, this colour brought on some unfavourable memories. 

As Rhys said, quartz did serve him well. Quartz does serve well, regardless of the owner or the nature of the job, yet it easily dirties, wears out and- yikes. That train of thought was able to easily shift him back into reality.

All of that aside, as it frankly, shouldn't have mattered, the jacket looked really nice. The geometric embroidery, humble yet freeing shapes... It was all too good, except for the colour. And yes, he would look great in it, but the feeling of being dressed up in that, for a once again royal occasion, did not set well with him. Especially after that kind of trail off.

(continued from: x) @ceaselessblade

Ike scrunches up his nose. “That bad, huh?” Well, at least he’s gotten feedback straight from a good source. Sighing, he lumbers out of the bush entirely, hearing a few satisfying pops as he stretches out his limbs to exercise them. “Well, I suppose I wasn’t much for hiding anyway.” The next question’s a little trickier. What does he tell Ranulf? That he needed a break? But that doesn’t quite tell anyone that he hadn’t intended to end up in Fodlan. “Hmm… It’s a long story, but in short?” He pats at his stomach; (a lie, honestly, everyone knows the stomach’s further up than the abdomen).

“I’m hungry.” Specifically, he’s run out of stashed cured meat. Or about to– it could hold for a few more days, but he’d rather not let it run that low. He could always go for normal game, he supposes… But where’s the fun in that?

"Man, imagine the towncriers in Melior upon hearing this. 'Local Hero Goes To Another Continent Cause He's Hungry'. What a headline would that be!" okay, Ike had walked right into that, and also Ranulf deserved at least one. At least. In fairness, when one leaves all the people they know behind without a word of warning, sass is really the best they can hope for. "Hunting, eh? Traps, arrows, some exotic Fodlaner method?"

What Suits You? [Ranulf & Rhys]

White was his color.

Well, Rhys hoped so, anyway, since he wore it all the time. He posed in front of a full length mirror at the tailor’s shop in the monastery town, holding a white dress jacket on a hanger in front of himself. “Hmmm.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Getting ready for a ball was proving to be stressful, if only because he wasn’t used to getting to actually pick out brand new clothes, especially not formal ones. Everything looked incredible, which made it all the more difficult to choose.

He could just wear his robes, but the ball was supposed to be special. Rhys wanted to look his best— whatever that was.

“Maybe I need to accessorize.” He held the hanger in one hand and wandered into a different section. “More white? White gloves? No, maybe something blue… maybe I should be really different and bold,” he muttered, browsing various neckties, cufflinks, and waistcoats. Whatever he wore, it would have to look good with his bright orange hair. 

The shop’s door chime jingled with the arrival of a new customer and Rhys raised his head with interest. A second opinion was exactly what he needed! He scooted his way to the front of the store, face lighting up when he spotted Ranulf.

His excitement spilled out before he could really think. All of the buzz around campus had him giddy for a chance to attend a real ball. 

“Oh, hello Ranulf! Are you shopping for the White Heron Ball too?” Rhys bashfully held up his chosen dress jacket. “I’ve just started- I think I’m going with something like this. Er, unless it’s too much like my every day white?” Rhys brightened back up. “Oooh- what are you thinking of picking out? I bet it’ll be great, whatever it is!” Ranulf was charismatic to begin with, and it was difficult for Rhys to imagine anything not looking striking and stylish on him. 

"Woah, woah, woah, buddy," the assault was sudden, and one Ranulf was entirely unprepared for. "Happy to see you too, but just, slow down, will ya?"

Rhys's uncontained excitement was a nice change to see though. No shame in being quiet or reserved, but his case was different: he'd always yearned for adventure, for freedom and this newfound exhilaration, and he seemed to have achieved it at least. To an extent, at the very least.

Heh. That makes one of us.

"I am in fact here to pick out something for the ball. Don't get me wrong, I'm attached to my old fit," he brushed the ear of his orange cap, "but it's not quite right for the occasion. The spirit I'm keeping though, need something light and unrestrictive. Not sure how 'great' it'll be but uh.. if I like it, who cares? Anything I pick will probably be scorned," he added with a laugh. "But yeah. Ball."

The request for fashion advice was unusual. "It sure is white? Not sure how there is ever 'too much', but it does sound like you maybe want something different," saying that, he looked around the shop. There were quite a few outfits of all colours, for all body sizes and builds. Clearly in preparation for the ball (and the immense market that is the academy).

Red Wolf Moon. Ranulf & Dedue. Starter for @loyaltestament

Renovation didn't stop overnight: one crew headed off to sleep, the other came to take over their responsibilities. It seemed that the Archbishop really took a liking to this place: the fervent focus on finishing the repairs as fast as possible was certainly unique, unseen before by Ranulf at least. Then again, he hadn't been at Garreg Mach for that long.

He didn't mind helping out! And also the benefits he was promised once the recreational place was open were definitely worth it. Didn't matter if he had to carry roofing or sweep floors for a couple days. And especially so if he managed to get out of it and still end up on the list of participants.

That night, Ranulf arrived for his usual batch of responsibilities. Carry supplies upstairs to the repairmen, cater to the overgrown plants and rein them in, then to a some cleaning. And, as usual, he once again ran into a familiar face: Dedue of the Blue Lions. Stoic and dutiful to no end... Well, Ranulf was really in no position to talk knowing himself just a year ago. But still.

The rumours about this place were spicy though. Stacks on armour in the basement, gold stashed even deepeer below, a hot spring even... That was something to look out for. And perhaps somewhere to get lost. He didn't quite want to be alone though. Where's the fun in that? There was another person in the room, with a broom much like his. Though it was a big question whether he would agree.

An open starter! Please lmk before taking it up

Autumn comes fast.

At first, it summons a whirlwind of colours: red, orange, purple and yellow. The trees, the earth and ometimes even the water - all turns to gold for a short, yet always unforgettable time. Then, the winds arrive. Bitter and fierce. they bring the breath of the North with them, a warning of what is to come. Rains follow. Golden leaves turn into mush and the ground is saturated with moisture. Would be simply a perfect time for bugs and worms of all kinds, had it not been for the encroaching cold. Temperatures continue to fall, until one morning the puddles are frozen and the ground is powdered with snow, the final messanger of Winter.

The past few days at Garreg Mach had been windy and soaking wet: Ranulf only prayed the carpentry could withstand the rain well, knowing how uncommon it was for the mountains. He also absolutely refused to leave the building in question, offering some lessons and advice inside.

As always, very few people came. In this case though, it was beneficial.

He spent his days sitting by the window people-watching. Even in harsh weather, the Monastery was always busy: merchants snooping around, students and professors alike heading to lectures. Dozens of carriages passing by every day. Cats and dogs running to hide from the weather. He always let them in, no matter how much he got scolded for it. What are they gonna do, fire me? They're welcome to.

One day though, he noticed a couple priory kids trying to put up... an object, on the walls? As he focused on it, it was a sloppily made cardboard sun. Well, maybe not cardboard - it would have been entirely pointless then - more like cured wood. Painted with ochre, it didn't look anything like the sun, but they did their best.

The attempts to affix it to the wall weren't as successful, however. First they were noticed by the guard and fled, leaving the object behind. Then the rain started. And so the sun remained there in the dirt.

Red Wolf Moon. Bruno and Ranulf. Brawling/Reason +1

Shit.

Out of all the things you would expect to go wrong on a winter trek, this is pretty low down the list. Was anyone even aware of this happening? Judging by the Knights' surprise, Ranulf guessed they were not.

"Students, fall behind, now!" the command soon follows. "Support or long-range, nothing else. Everyone else, brace for battle!"

The laguz found himself in the front row, entering a fighting stance. He... didn't quite own a royal stone. So, strategy first, blue rampage second. Wouldn't want to waste the only chance to be useful, now would we? His next thought, and action, is to jump the hell out of the monster's way.

It shouldn't have moved that fast for how it looked. Luckily, Ranulf was still faster, but not everyone is as fortunate. A swing from another hits one of the guards, and he flew backwards into a tree, groaning as he was trying to get up. Hopefully, without a broken back.

Meanwhile, his attacks weren't doing anything. Granted, he wouldn't achieve much in the upright form, but at least anything. Not to mention the Knights weren't at all successful either, as metal didn't even pierce the ashen skin, if you could call it that.

Then Nessie struck. Gollden gauntlets shone in the darkness, incinerating the undead whole. Blessed? Cursed? Whatever they were, they might be the only weapon functional.

"Can you share? If there are two users, we'll deal with'em faster," she shook her head before destroying another one. "Then we'll stay guard and slow them down! Err," he looked around, only to stop his gaze on a certain silver-haired individual, "you! Mind helping me hold the flank?"

Always shifting, always moving. For Ranulf, perspective has never been something static, but rather something easily altered with the circumstances. His adaptability came from it, and perhaps it was only thanks to it that he got where he did. King Caineghis valued it. Giffca valued it. Ike valued it. So did Sanaki. All his time as a strategist his job was to provide a unique perspective and come up with plans that haven't yet been devised. To get into the enemies' minds and figure out what they will try next. And he dared say he wasn't half-bad at his duty. Wouldn't compare himself to Soren, and there was no need to do that.

 Perpective is not to be confused with principles. Yeah, same letter, similar words with entirely different implications. And while his perspective always shifted to understand beorc and laguz of all backgrounds and mindsets, his core principles remained firm as steel. No matter the circumstances: whether it was a celebration of victory in Melior, humiliating assault in Toha or march on the Tower, Ranulf has changed little in the past years. Grew more open? Quite. Perhaps, more accepting towards beorc. Yet the values at his core weren't ever shaken or disturbed. He may have grown, but not changed.

If asked, he'd say he hadn't paid much attention to it. Partially, it would be true: always busy, especially at dusk and later, he couldn't devote time to sky-watching, and it wasn't exactly his shtick either. The stars and the moon are the pleasant light and the guides of the night, but don't hold that much meaning to the laguz beyond that.

It always seemed weird to watch beorc fawn over the stars, like they're the pillars of beauty. Ranulf often wondered why, what was the reason of their infatuation with the shining specks surrounded by darkness, trying to make sense of it from various perspective. Perhaps, it was because beorc lived under the sun, while laguz preferred the comfort of shadows and night, and so, what seemed normal for some was fascinating for the other. Yet laguz didn't worship the burning ball of flame, disliking it quite much, in fact. He tried to connect it to navigation and how stars always help one find a way on the seas and on the land, but that wasn't quite it either. Navigators had other reasons to be fascinated with the sky than just looking for a path.

He pondered about it for long, until one day Mist told him a story. A story about a cunning warrior, one who knew mercy and ruthlessness and was not shy of either. Ranult couldn't recall the name for the life of him, but what he did recall.. is her place in the sky. "The brightest starin the purple is the diamond on her crown. From there, trace a line down south - her body - and note the shield to the left, with the sword to the right. That's Her. She has forever found a home in these skies".

Only then he grasped the truth. It was never the rational, no. It was the sentimentality of it all. There was a certain beauty in order and stability. In the sky always shifting yet remaining the same, always staying predictable in an everchanging world. The legend of the warrior has outlived many generations of beorc and no doubt a few of laguz, all owing to the sky and the stars. And the meaning the beorc put into them.

It is no secret that Ranulf's position within Gallia was considered odd. Essentially second-in-command, yet far from the strongest in the tribe. Well, he got where he were thanks to his wits and his nimbleness, allowing him to combat even the fiercest opponents. His intuition was also of great help in moments of danger and uncertainty.But one thing few people mention on their way to success is their loneliness. Ranulf was no exception.

He didn't have trouble forming relationships. With the carefree attitude comes charisma, and he certainly wasn't lacking in it. It's just that.. he didn't. First he focused on his duties and his goals, then solitude became his normal state of being, bringing a sense of peace.. and exhaustion. Slowly building up into a heap on his shoulders, never to fall down or even have much weight, but always there. And always felt.

It wasn't until the chance meeting with the Mercenaries that he managed to form some connections, most notably with Ike, Lethe and Mordecai. Later came Kyza and Lyre (although he wishes they didn't, with the whole Story between those two), and the other mercenaries, and laguz, to add. It felt nice for a change. Liberating, like a breath of fresh air. A feeling not known before, but one he mourned not knowing.

"They say still waters run deep". A beorc proverb, quite a well-known one. Well, if they were smarter, they'd omit the first two words. 

Still waters always run deep.

Ranulf is rare to be seen offended, disappointed or enraged. In fact, for one to witness his emotions like that is a demonstration of great trust. Especially if the emotion is addressed to the trusted, whether it's displeasure, disappointment or anger. Against those Ranulf rarely holds grudges, preferring to settle scores the moment it is possible to do so.

For the rest.. His grudges are subtle. And often unnoticeable. Depending on the slight, he may still begin to trust that person later on, and even value them as a friend an ally, but he keeps offences close to his heart until there is enough trust to address them. If the moment never comes - or worse, with the harm done, is never to come - then one day the offender may see the results of their actions. In their own blood.

No, Ranulf will not kill an ally himself. He will rarely even initiate deadly conflict, preferring to knock people out where possible. However, he isn't benevolent. And it is his choice and no one else's when to step in and when to step back and let karma do its thing.

Ranulf, on the other hand, often left on nightly walks, or nightly runs, and then was returning from one. There didn't seem to be a specific curfew enforced, but returning too late would definitely be suspicious. That prospect he wasn't fond of, at the very least yet.

Rhys, however, was a pleasing sight. And company would be quite nice. "I know the way, actually," he replied, with a smile not unlike the other's. "Nice to see you too, Rhys. Didn't expect to find you here of all places, but then again the same you could say about me, or about every other person at this Academy. And I am a teacher.. kinda? We can chat on the way."

The adjoining town isn't quite a big one, but it's ancient and so very convoluted. The streets and alleys flow and intersect erratically, creating a small maze of cobblestone paths overhung by balconies and laundry ropes. The maze virtually impossible to navigate unless you absolutely know your way (which Ranulf did, having passed here just a couple hours ago) or are a local. Then again, the difficulty of navigation means little when the town isn't large: after some wandering you're still bound to find your way.

"The Deers are quite.. wild indeed. Definitely the right choice for me, considering the other options of 'Begnion-Two' and 'Sothe would find them edgy'. Fear the Deer or something?" he added with a chuckle. Then the expression turned a bit somber. "I haven't.. quite managed to connect with them yet. Some are friendly but elusive, some are polite but less-than-enthusiastic to engage, some are straight-up avoidant. Don't take me wrong, making deep connections with these, especially spoiled and noble, beorc is not the reason why I'm here, but it would be nice to.. make any connection, I guess? Other than the people I already know.