thief

I feel this should be a good time to make this for Archer! Although he's a bit hard to actually pin down and decide what I wanted for him and etc, but here's a general mess of idea that I'd feel work somehow.

If you're interested in threading with Archer (Robin Hood), (whether we had spoken or threaded before or not) this is a good way of saying I'm very open to RPing.

This is once again just a general list of what I'd like for Archer to do and what he already does or goes in the first place. These can be pre-established relationships if you'd like or what every context you decide you to envision it!

If you're ever interested feel free to send me a DM, or send an ask!

@inheritedname​

He’s been meaning to look into it for a while but never really found the right time, then again maybe any time is good enough. In any case, his search takes him into the forest looking for an old comrade, regardless of whether they remember him or not. Charlemagne would still view the Archer as a friend no matter their differences. As it turns out, he didn’t have to search for too long. “There you are!” Saber waves in greeting and steps a little closer.

“Hmm… but should I call you Archer or Robin? Archer would be fine if that’s what you prefer since that guy isn’t around, otherwise I’d have to call you Mint Archer and I’m not sure how you’d feel about that.” Maybe that’s a little presumptuous of him though? “Ah, sorry, you probably don’t remember me, huh?” Mashu had mentioned something about not being from the same time as her so, there’s a chance it’s the same in this case.

Archer had been spending much of their time in the forest - mostly sitting on the grounds of the forest, whittling at a wood. What they were going to make - wasn't really they had in mind. The forest was quiet - and the only thing they heard were animals chittering about and birds flying here and there. So for once and all, they feel somewhat at peace, clearly focusing on what's in their hand - knife and a block of wood - til a sudden voice comes - one they don't recognize.  Knife nearly missing wood and hand, but they got up in time. "Uh."

your true name? "Elizabeth's Babysitter"?

⚔️ // back  straightened  and  cool  green  gaze  settled  upon  her  companion  ,  brow  raised  and  interest  piqued.  very  rarely  did  she  find  someone  who  UNDERSTOOD  the  words  she  could  not  string  together.  there  were  no  walls  to  push  through  or  sympathies  that  missed  the  mark.  and  so  those  words  remained  ,  stuck  in  her  chest  where  her  heart  lay  unbeating.  DEAD  before  they  ever  had  a  chance  to  be  said.

         “…and…  when  you  do  ,  no  matter  how  hard  you  try  ,  you  can’t  quite  get  the  pieces  to  fit  together.  something  is  always  missing.  or  …  the  memories  leave  again  ,  before  you  can  make  sense  of  it.”  she  ventured  ,  DARING  to  follow  this  thread  of  time  -  no  ,  fate?  -  as  it  spun  before  her.  “…  have  you  not  anyone  you  can  ask?  about  your  memories.”

Archer doesn't look up, opting to focus on the wood block in his hand, as if trying to envision what kind of piece they were trying to make. Nothing came to mind immediately -- it seemed that he didn't have an idea of what to carve. A sigh escapes -- and for a moment Archer doesn't know how to respond.

To think- the two had something to relate about - was... weird. A connection... was rare - it wasn't as if he had anyone to connect with - but rather, he'd preferred to stay by his lonesome. It was much easier that way.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇           “we’ve all the time this world will allow us, i hold no possession over sir whiskers and so it shall be commonplace to allow him to feed from the hand that which he desires. for it is his very independence that i love about him.”

poetic paintings of an otherwise… ordinary cat.

it was simply too easy to imbue the comfort rhea found in her many monastery cats onto this feline from a world completely not her own. drawing connection, clinging to what she knew, and hoping that in it came about love… what fallacies she continued. but the archbishop with no-one to care for fell lonely, if not for the kitten whose whiskers bounced at each turn of his head.

“tuna is a fine, clean choice for sir whiskers. although he does not possess capacity for words, i’m sure his heart is full off warmth– you have showed him what blessings may bring. had he word, i’d imagine he’d show you gratitude.” 

a tightlipped smile pulls taut. 

“do you permit sir whiskers into your home??”

Very poetic paintings of a ordinary cat who's very much indulging in all this attention over them.

"Mm, much freerer than both of us - and luckier for it too. "

"Heh, well, he certainly does show his warmth for me, once in a while by pouncing at me each chance he gets." Archer isn't much the type to talk about love, in such a sense, or in a such beliefs. But he could agree with some.

⚔️ //  she  had  finished  playing  a  simple  piece  , albeit  her  performance  being  rife  with  beginner mistakes  and  repetition  for  the  sake  of  practice. now  ,  still  , she  fiddled  with  her  lyre  before  speaking.            “…i  feel  as  though  there  should  be  lyrics…                    but  …  i  can’t  imagine  what  they  might  be.                   nor  if  i   should  recall.”

@inheritedname​ / starter call !

"... Well, I'm not sure why'd you ask me - I'm not certainly the most lyrical guy out there. As much as I spend time with birds, they don't teach me to sing, they just ask for my seeds."  

He sits on the ground, comfortable - much more than sitting upwards on the seats. In hand, a block of wood and knife - crafting something up out of nothing - and he stares off to the distance.

".... I kind of do get it. In the back of mind, traces of old hymns, or poetry come out of nowhere, but I don't recall how it's supposed to be spoken - or what tongues should I speaking them in..." They shrug, while looking back down at the wood block. "Rare if anything I remember such things - ... "

⚔️ //  it  seemed a  paltry  state  of  existence.  one  that  byleth  could  understand  if  she  tried  —  if  only  loosely.  the   resignation  to  life  as  it  was  and  always  would  be.  she  knew  it  well  enough.  but  byleth  had  always  had  her  footing  soundly  planted  in  the  shadow  of  her  father.  when  she  was  hardly  more  than  a  specter  among  the  living  ,  he  was  what  guided  her.

             yet  even  then  she  harbored  a  RESTLESSNESS  deep  within.  however  faint.

            “…  habit  ,  i  suppose,”  she  answered  truthfully.  still  her  gaze  fell  to  the  wayside  ,  and  she  retreated  into  the  darkness  of  her  own  deflection.  like  an  echo  ,  she  raised  her  own  walls.  “but  to  your  earlier  point  ,  the  fact  of  the  matter  is  that  whether  or  not  you  lay  down  roots  here  is  a  decision  only  you  can  make.  but  if  the  constant  reshuffling  of  abode  brings  you  discomfort  ,  it  may  be  an  option  to  consider.”

"Oh, we'll see if it ever comes to it - whoever truly gets to win out - me getting a place or the eclipses." A final snarky finish, and he turns his back from the professor.

"Nice talking to you - although I feel I spoke too much."

Eiden’s not sure what to say at this point other than awkwardly stand there. Since he’s apologized then maybe the next thing to do should be just to leave. He weighs on it a little and then heaves a sigh. Yup. All better. 

“ Anyway I’m going to— huh? “

He blinks as the the bird flies by after the whistle. His eyes follow along as it lands on their hand. 

“ …did you call that? “ 

His eyes light up looking at the bird.

"Oh ... not really -- well... I just knew that these birds would come here time to time."

He responds, rather a taken back at the idea calling the bird, but gives a shake of a head.

"I mostly ... observed it's patterns and well, it came to a point where sometimes, some of them would notice me..."

Then he gestures to the seeds -

"I guess they're already used to humans - and well, liked pestering them for some once in a while."

The air was filled with tension so thick it threatened suffocation; the mere act of speaking felt like a gamble, with a great chance of stepping on another landmine and offending him as their first meeting had been littered with. And their manner of speaking bluntly had Mashu’s heart tremble with just how plainly they interpreted her proposal, spoken in harsh words, no matter how few they were. “That’s not what—…” Her words  died before their journey outward could be completed; while she felt it necessary to clarify, that they needn’t feel as though she regarded them as a risk or it better they not speak, she was apprehensive about speaking anything that might be misinterpreted or taken the wrong way and blow up into another argument.

If they preferred not to speak, she had to respect that decision, and not push them into a situation more uncomfortable than present circumstances already made it. With sights cast downward, the Shielder closed in on the door, twisting the handle and opening it up to reveal the corridor, wherein no activity could be identified. “The coast appears free for the moment. It won’t take us long to get out, then you’ll be free to go wherever you feel most comfortable until you’re let out of here”. A pause hung in the air. “I’m sorry you got stuck here with me. That’s why it’s best to make our way out of here as quickly as possible, this must be very unpleasant for you and I don’t want to trouble you any longer than necessary".

"I wasn't implying you telling me to - it's... how I processed it for myself. it for myself." They interrupt her mid-protest, and shrugged it off, while looking downwards. Would it make her stop worrying? They didn't really know - but maybe... clarifying what they meant would at least ease the tension. Or something -- not that they actually care for if anything.  

In their quiet, Archer mostly kept observing as much as possible, almost yearning to understand what exactly was going on. If anything, they didn't quite get exactly why this... dream was set up like this -- set in what seems to be an island .... hotel.... etc. Which only lead to more questions, popping up.

“ I was looking for a breath of life, a little touch of heavenly light. But all the choirs in my head sang no. “

@inheritedname​ – starter call

The many times that Archer had been moving places had been... rather something they'd not take liking to if anything. Sure, it's comforting to have a place to live in, but with the off-chance an eclipse taking them back and forth, it felt more comforting to be in a forest. Than in a building where'd they have to re-adjust to everything all over again.

In the forest, there was nothing they'd need to readjust to -- they'd just settle themselves in the branches, leaves or a hollow trunk. Or hell, they'd settle themselves on the ground, when it's covered with leaves -- that's tons more comfier than being confined to a room of some kind.

They were taking a stroll, a hobby they've done many time with great relish, but this time, it felt more needed than ever. Feeling rather if anything rattled by the almost dragged back to the data dredges of voidance, Archer wanted to re-connect back to their roots, so to speak, so they gathered themselves, taking nothing, besides themsevles.

As they looked around on their little walk, it became apparent that there was someone else who happened to be on a walk. Of course, Archer could ignore him ... but he was a bit curious, if only a little.

He was in a bind.

Somehow, always, one way or another since coming to this damn island, misfortunes upon misfortunes seemed to pile upon him. This time, however, after ruining that lady's food, they tried to appease her, by promising to be her personal photographer.

Such a farce, since Archer has no idea what to do with cameras, or how it even works! Learning fast was an option, but how fast, especially for that gal who'd probably going to do stuff to him if he didn't measure up to her expectations?

A rather worrisome dilemma! He'd wish he'd just didn't enter that cafe, or say those things, but he can't quite turn back time in the first place. They'd wonder if they could optimally disappear-- an option, was in the realm of possibility-- but for how long?

As they thought such strange strategems to avoid the ever soon  duty, someone had caught their attention - a man with a camera.

"Oh."

There's many different kinds of customers that come to Hope Au Lait, sometimes regulars or new faces that hear from their friends. If anything, business was going as usual, as they observed from their usual spot. Outside in the gardens, that was working on caring for the plants.

While they maybe called in to wait tables, if it was too busy, Archer was generally on their own, making sure the garden was looking pretty and not ransacked again.

(A personal nightmare that they've rather not deal with once again.)

Well, as they often minded the gardens, often out view from the main attractions: the cute animals and so forth, not many people visited the gardens. Which was okay, since they like being alone, but only a rare few do, to compliment on the arrangements, color, etc... only a few do however.

But this time, it seemed as they settled down to work, a customer intentionally headed to the garden - looking at them, with a look of some kind.

"... Yes?"

Seiichirou’s eyebrows knit down, a little annoyed that his perfectly kind offer got turned down. He pouts a little but doesn’t express the frustration any further. 

“ Well, if you insist… “

Seiichirou thinks of turning away but the slight unsteady mannerism of the other get him a little annoyed. Clearly he’s not perfectly fine standing!

“ Are you suuure you’re alright? If you don’t mind me asking. “

A hiccup rings out instead of an answer, and an embarrassed look sets upon their face. Barely hidden by the cowl, they look away -- eyes darting elsewhere. Shame hadn't risen up yet, but it seemed that they were a bit light on their feet...

"I do insist, mate."

But then, his unsteady mannerisms had him get called out - and his head was hurting.

An accident out of his hands? Regardless if that was a factual statement, Medb did not care. Her scowl remained.

He was sorry, and avoiding a mess? Regardless if that was a factual statement, Medb still did not care. Again, her scowl remained.

It wasn’t what mattered? Regardless if that was a factual statement, Medb undeniably, still did not care. Thrice now, her scowl remained.

Oh, but a personal photographer? Suddenly, Medb smiled, but this particular upward turn of her lips was anything but kind..

“Oh my, how gallant of you.”

“Offering up your body in order to beg for my forgiveness? Well, I cannot say you’re not the first to do so.”

(That was not what he said, but it was what Medb heard all the same.)

She laughed, in his face.

“Ufufu… I could use a man servant to run my errands– ah, and you have such long, athletic arms! Perfect for photography…”

He could feel heat rising up in a matter in a second, face turning a hot tomato red. How did she manage to turn his words into something else entirely? That's not what he was planning to do but somehow she managed to turn the tables upon him -- in the most frivolous way possible way -- and he hate it.

But not like he could get out of this situation any longer. No escape for him... unfortunate tidings has come for him, in the form... of whoever this is.