Seeker of truth

Shade? Hrm. That was a difficult question to answer, his eyes not being what they once were and not caring enough to know the different varieties of blue. He at the very least is more interested by attempting to puzzle out an accurate description than the running of one’s lands. Noble business. Didn’t care much for it at all. Took the time of brilliant minds from useful research to dreary mundane tasks. 

   “Hrm, that so. Now, you might have to ask Miss Sinoa or Miss Cleo for a more common descriptor if you wish, but if I recall correctly the shade was somewhere in the range of 440 to 450 nanometers on the spectrum.”   He’s sure he has a more accurate rating somewhere in his notes, but alas, he hasn’t that particular journal on his being. Pretty sure he made a copy–wouldn’t do at all to be without one, and have to impose on a young lady at whatever odd hours he took just for a few notes. Not that he was the one mindful of such impropriety. 

   “Oh, yes, some of the faithful do certainly know how to put a crock in one’s hamper, hm.”   Yes, even he wasn’t mad enough to chance a walk by the chapel when sister Estelle or Hildegarde were present. Not twice. Still, some were fine enough. The young Hope was quite a delight to watch and engage with. But the gloom and gruff of his acknowledgement is soon erased with stipulation.   “But we’ve many a fine healer not bound to faith, yes! Such as the fine butler, though he lectures, and that wonderful dancer, and that lad who breaks everything–not allowed in my lab though, no, not that one–and–what where we speaking of?”

“I can’t say I’m familiar with that measurement of color, no. I’ll ask later.” Fascinating, truly. Was his mask equipped with instruments for the detection of different frequency of light to compensate for his rotted eyes? He would have to bother him for the schematics at some point. 

The sudden offtrack made him chuckle some, an unmistakable upturn to his lips. As maddening as they all were, he truly missed the Halidom. “Healers, Kleimann, we were talking of healers- though not a conversation of any real importance. Perhaps you aught to ask one of the smithing sisters to screw your head on a little tighter, lest your thoughts rattle out again.” Though he wasn’t one to talk. How often did he jump between ideas in casual conversation with Curran? Enough to be teased over it. 

   “Oh ho ho, on the contrary! Miss Sinoa’s volatile experiments have done quite a number to my beard and masks! It is only thanks to our quality healers I’ve still a face, I think. Shame about the beard. Much shorter. You missed when it was blue. Fascinating experiment, that one. Blended right in with the whole ensemble.”

He doesn’t seem the least offended–it’s quite fun seeing which ways his fellow researcher’s experiments would combust! Loved sticking his face into them. Must be her hot-blooded youthful nature coming through to have everything go up in flames so often. Now and then, there wouldn’t be an explosion. Always the most interesting, if somehow still disappointing, times. Always lovely to see the lass excited.

   “You really must see the research, if you’re interested of course, in the, er–how long were you gone?”

“Blue? What shade?” A great deal of hues would match his attire rather well...not that he had much of an eye for fashion. Tailors usually put together his finer clothes for him, and his usual garb was practicality over fashionable. 

“Three months, on and off? I’ve come back to the Halidom for business with Euden on occasion, but I’ve never been able to stay long to see much of anyone else. The war has been dreadful for my territory, and I’ve dedicated myself to my people rather than the whole of New Alberia.” What he would give to be rid of that trouble, though. How many experiments could he have gotten done instead of compensating for crop loss....

          Heinwald had already made a promise to not send her away. To not let the church take her. Of course Curran had a hand in that, and they both seemed to be doing what they could for she and Lathna. Morgan of course wanted to respect them and their goddess, but she had little faith in her. It was kept quiet on her end. Curran seemed to really be  into the church and his religion, and Morgan wasn’t going to insult that. Not when so many of her friends praised Naga, and one had even become the ‘Voice’ of her.

          Heinwald and Curran were as close as she was going to get to dads right now. And she loved them. So when he did not push her away, but instead welcomed her into his embrace, Morgan noticeably relaxed. Like she was reclaiming the safe feeling once more. He was chilly, sure. But that wasn’t going to be enough to stop her or make her leave. The hair stroking was comfortable, it was calming, and it made Morgan feel okay. He said it would be, so it should be. Heinwald has never lied to her before.

          The little kiss did surprise her out of everything. She knows she’s caused this man quite a few scares with her late night escapades. Such as playing with the fire place without gloves. Or running around and doing everything she can get her hands no, leaving nothing for those who’s job it was to clean. Or even as far as to try and wrestle some of the dragons. Yet, he still found it in himself to show her such a great deal of affection? Morgan would cry if she could.

          “Prince Chrom is here too…so it’s kind of nice to have someone here who knows me back home. He’s…my father works as his tactician and trusted advisor and best friend. So…” ‘Uncle Chrom’ would be there to comfort Morgan as well, it seems. And she’d go back with him when she can. For now though, he can mingle with the royals, and she’ll stick with her little family over here.

         “Everyone keeps saying it’ll be okay…but I trust it more when you say it.”

“Is he? I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure of speaking with him much since he arrived, given the gate research, but he does seem to have a reasonable head on his shoulders--” Compared to some of their other guests. If Notte wasn’t a strange enough fairy, now there was some manner of dream creature. The Askr princess was.....bubbly. And the dragon.....

He shook his head with a fond smile. They certainly fit into the Halidom. 

“But of course,” he said with a bit of a tut, “am I ever wrong?”

Curran wasn’t around to argue with him, so as far as she was concerned--

“There is merit in baseless, optimistic comforts, especially when they’re spoken by men of valor and figure one looks towards for guidance. If anyone can make something happen, it’s the prince.....any of them, really I just now realized how many members of royalty we have among us at the moment.” Was the count jealous of their stations? Hardly, especially if it meant a penchant for being spirited away into other worlds. 

“Neither you nor Sinoa have incinerated yourselves in my absence, I see. I believe Curran owes me a few gold.”

A pause.

Did someone order a gay vessel for an eldrich god dad with a lovely christian husband and equally creepy possessed daughter? One with a desire for truth and a penchant for dark magic?

No? Yeah I thought that order was a little specefic, but here’s Heinwald from Dragalia Lost anyways.

         “They’re a really lively bunch. Euden…is really deadset on making friends.” In which Morgan does not hate Euden. He actually reminds her of a friend back home. But he and his little band of friends had done a lot of poking and prodding. Morgan…was not exactly happy about today. As most of them know, she’s a twin. She’s missing her brother on their birthday. Her brother is missing her on their birthday. The phantom twin feeling was stronger than ever, and she wished for nothing more than to hug her brother and cling to him.

          Euden mentioned how he had understood that feeling all too well. And…that was fair. He was missing his own twin.

          That still did not mean Morgan wanted a large celebration. Everyone in the halidom was probably aware of her less than stellar eating. And loud noises and crowds overwhelmed her greatly. Yet, they went out of their way to do something nice and celebrate for her. Even some of the dragons had joined in. Morgan…couldn’t not participate. Not after all they had tried to do for her. At least Heinwald understood her.

          Heinwald…Curran…and Lathna. A strange little makeshift family they’ve welcomed her into. But one she does not regret joining. The little hair ruffle is nice. It’s gentle and affectionate. And just for a moment, she can feel her father doing the same. He used to ruffle her hair just the same as Heinwald is doing.

          Its out of pure instinct and childish desire that she hugs him. Latching on to him as if he would vanish should she let go. This was what she missed. Morgan missed them. Her brother and her father. Heinwald, Curran, and Lathna were not them. But…they could be her Alberian family. If Heinwald didn’t mind, she just wants a hug a little longer. To decompress, and to savor the feeling of hugging a parent who cares about her well-being.

         “I…I want a hug. I want a hug from my dad…”

Heinwald had been around enough children (and Curran) that he didn’t tense up nearly as much as he used to at hugs, but this one was a little unexpected. 

From her dad? From the one she couldn’t have? The one she was ripped away from?

Or...was he enough?

All things consider, the answer seemed obvious, being clung to by the poor thing and all.....but he knew he could never replace what she’d lost. No one here could, no matter how hard they tried to make it hurt less. 

He would do what he could. 

Heinwald held her close, stroking her hair a little more as she buried herself in his chest. It wasn’t a particularly warm hug, half of his body chilled with a breath of death, but it was as strong and sturdy as he could manage balancing on his bum leg. 

Comforting words in a sensitive time were never his forte. Telling a child grasping for a parental figure that they would get her home soon seemed a little dismissive of the now, while reassuring her of her presence here would brush off the effort to reunite her with her true family. Love came to mind- he did care for her immensely, but if she was anything like him, the word came packed with implications and history he would never want to bring up if she wasn’t prepared. It was already a difficult day. 

[I’ll make a formal verse page when it’s not like 3am and I keep having thoughts about the verse when I don’t have any real braincells to write so

Essentially the same sort of deal as Dragalia, except that instead of having an eldrich being of dark mana rooting around in his head, it’s an Ultra Beast. Similar in power to Giratina and Eternatus in the shits fucked department. 

Super fucky Aura about him because of it. The connection with the UB parasitic, and he still has all of his funky undeath about him. There’s also a desire to consume souls and aura of people, but thats the UB side of things. Heinwald’s fine with two bagels. 

He’s a private investigator with his husband still rooting out funky UB and ghost shit. 

This is to test if the update even hit this blog 

     “ Y’know … it can’t be much of a life, staying locked up in a room most of the day, huh ? “ Idle hands work away at twin katanas, wiped away with a, by this point, grimy and bloodstained cloth . Then would come one of several whetstones carried about in the pouch at her side . ‘ Field Research ‘ he had claimed; messy field work perhaps, if the fiendish limbs now adorning the man’s table were any hint  ( certainly not the most outlandish thing she’s been requested; kirin’s curiosity piqued alongside her own at the nature of his work ) . “ If you’re really worried about these things, wouldn’t you want to go out there and see them yourself ? “ || @heinretic​ - planned - ish !!

“There are some things that can only be properly observed in quiet study, not wanton destruction.” Quiet being the key word in this situation. Most of the other hunters and fiend-slayers he hired from the ranks of the Haildom were quick to exchange their bounty for coin and leave him be. He would not make the same hiring mistakes again. 

@heinretic​ eldritch husbands but its beauty and the beast

    Damn, this place has really gone downhill.

    …Or, well, he assumed it had. It wasn’t as though he’d ever been to the manor personally when it was still inhabited by its former occupants, but like anyone else who lived in the territory, he’d heard a good deal about the guy who owned it all. Your typical assholeish lord, really–so Curran could only intuit that it would’ve looked much better back in the day than it did now, all overgrown garden and blocked-out windows and what have you. 

    Strange place to abandon and leave for some weird occultist shit, though. Pair that with the fact that everyone else they’d sent out here to investigate had vanished (Curran was wondering who of his superiors he managed to piss off to get saddled with this job) and it was certainly shaping up to be an… interesting case.

    He wrangles the cat from chasing a garden snake in the overgrown grass, (Mittens had tagged along, meowing incessantly over being left alone for so long only for her owner to come home and leave again), lights a lantern, (why is it that cultists never have decent light in the places they’re squatting?), and walks up to the front door. 

    “…Am I supposed to knock, or what?” (He looks down at the cat in his knapsack, as if she’ll answer.) The door doesn’t budge when he tries to push it open–not to any great surprise. So either everyone else got in another way, or… No, they probably all got in another way, but, fuck it, where’s the harm in knocking? It’s not like whoever or whatever lives here is going to answer the door. Hell, it’s a giant-ass mansion–he doubts anything would even hear. So he grabs one of the hefty brass knockers on the front door and gives it a couple swings.

Eons. Centuries. Months? Who was to say. They didn’t know. 

Between obscura and the halls of the manor, the universe and it’s mechanisms seemed hell bent on confining them to writhe about in four walls, bound by holy magics to fester in the property of their host. It was a nuisance for a time, a simple inconvenience to their study of the mortal plain and their ever toiling nature, but things had become dreadfully stagnant. Even the residents of the domicile had been laid to half rest, bodies still in the basement as their spirits tended to their lives, suspended and solid, unaware of the fate of their master. 

Master. What an odd name for such a dreadful creature, curled into a study of his own devising in their back of Their mind. He mastered nothing. Not the arcane nor his own form. 

From the stagnation rose a knock, echoing through the dust of the halls to shake the creature in it’s core. Guests. A charming word the mortal would use for the men sent to rend them asunder. 

Best to greet this guest. 

The mass of darkness swept through the halls, dragging its being across the walls and floors and whatever the tendrils of its dark mass needed to cling to to lurch forward. It stopped at the door, shifting into a vague bipedial shape capable of opening the door. 

         “Hee hee! Okay!” Nope. She’s not paying any mind to the measuring tape, books, or notebooks. She’s just happy to eat and get a chance to do something civil like talking!

          Fluttering to Whisker’s cage, she stands in front of it for a moment before making a bit of a face. Even though Whiskers was clean himself, the cage still stunk! Instead, she takes place and sits on a thimble that had been left sitting out.

         “I’m fine here! Thank you though!”

Heinwald couldn’t help but chuckle- how she found a thimble in his mess was beyond him, but he supposed when one was so small, chairs stood out readily in the rubble. 

         “So wait…I can keep having these berries and candies and all you wanna do is talk to me? Sounds fishy…but hey! Who am I to question free snacks?”

( @heinretic​ )

“Curran’s told me I need to display more hospitality to our guests. Nothing suspicious in the slightest.” Pay no mind to the measuring tape, books on fae and notebooks on his desk. 

thAT URL I’M CACKLING

[The clan that shigehide used to be the leader of always called their leader “magoichi” so the pun used to make a lot more sense