I'm not praying, today.

ROLL: 20, INSTANTANEOUS DEATH.

Experience beats running around like a crazed animal. By crazed however, the best example was Ignatz running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off. Alm probably had seen plenty of those too, and he knew how to put both out of their misery.

Ignatz wasn’t ready for it. It winded up right against the back of his skull. Maybe mud was harder to toss, maybe Ignatz had a fleshy head, but it whipped against him with a loud crack and he was against the ground. He gasped on the dirt for a moment, completely shocked by the wallop that just happened. Yet, Ignatz was alright, just comparatively dizzy.

ROLL: 9, BARELY HIT

FOLLOW UP: 17, SUCCESSFUL

Ignatz was living solely based in adrenaline and fear. He couldn’t even see anymore, most the people looked like tall tan blobs. So, he was being as watchful as ever. He barely caught sight of his cocky assailants figure, but a blur still moves just as fast when not in definition. 

Ignatz, by instinct, clutched his head and ducked in a moments notice. The drippings of cream and fruit dusted his finger tips and the top scruff of his head. He pulled back, rounding a turn as Innes was likely shocked at where he went wrong.

ROLL: 15, AVERAGE HIT

He didn’t have time to react, oh curse his loving soul. He heard Cynthia’s voice, one of his first friends from so long ago, and completely forgot where he was. It all disappeared and he actually looked straight to her and smiled. This said, he got smashed right in the left side of the head with some pastry.

It all came back in a moment, and he stood there completely flustered. Goddess, not again, he really wanted to do better.

“Yeah,” he choked up,

SAVING ROLL: 15, SUCCESSFUL.

Ignatz took off his glasses, from the back side of them he could see they were cracked now anyways. Taking them from his face, there was little evidence on how bad he had been hit.

ROLL: 5, TOTAL MISS

There was the slightest sound of which Ignatz could only describe as the slight pattering of “splurches,” as the bit into pie came in his direction dripping it’s insides. Not yet, not that easy again.

Ignatz took quick to roll onto his knees and fall under it. With a quick perk up, he eyed his attacker with great concern.

This great concern however faded as... Ignatz had no idea who he was. The academy cycled in so many new students since he last was there, and this guy was a new face. This said, it was a face stained with some red and white.

Goddess knew who, but someone crudely wrote that single word on a piece of paper and stuck it to his door with some non-descript sticky substance. He’d been gone for awhile, and this really was his first interaction upon arrival.

more below but i need advice

Squishing your Ignatz is good for it’s health, or so it would seem with how many touchy situations happened with him spontaneously.

It also seems like it was not a trait that went away with age.

Hilda was pressing right into him, surely tired after a long day of working and plotting for what was to soon come. Sure, they had time before the next major battle, but every day was another thread cut. It could only be so long before they would be let out into another glimpse of war and cruelty. Broken down walls and rubble being sifted through wasn’t the most idealistic reminder of the situation.

“You alright, Hilda?” He asked her, not really expecting an actual reply. He slid down from upon the fallen stone closer to her, letting her get the most of his warmth. 

“I’m pretty beat myself, I can admit that.” Ignatz unfurled his cloak with his arm tucked underneath, and sprawled some of it over Hilda. He looked at her, and managed to laugh even so softly.

The image of Linhardt caring for somewhat who was essentially sleep walking must have been funny to anyone around to witness it. Ignatz might as well had been face down in his notes drooling, he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He managed to spring up a bit, and with the fluttering of his eyes it was clear that he didn’t hear a single word Linhardt said.

Truth be told, he was up most of the night for a reason he saw as kind of stupid. He was too uncomfortable to work on any of his paintings during the day, especially with so many new faces around. So, within the past weeks, Ignatz started taking to working mainly during the night, to quell his insecurities.

Unfortunately it had terrible adverse effects on his health. The poor boy struggled to even talk for the past month.

So, he was a bit surprised to see Linhardt offering him morning’s coffee. “Oh,” Ignatz stammered, albeit still a bit sleepy. “For me? You shouldn’t have to worry.” Ignatz tried to assure him of such.

“It’s very nice of you Linhardt, thank you.” A warm smile lit up his deathly complexion, “You never fail to be kind, do you?”

If the two were talking about something important, it quickly all went up into smoke as Ewan decided to mess with the conversation. 

It wasn’t much, just as Ignatz was filling space with small talk he quickly pressed his pointer finger against his nose, and took it back right after.

Ignatz shorted his sentence and actually flinched as it happened. Not out of disgust, he just didn’t like someones hands right in his face is all. But, it was so innocent in gesture it took Ignatz a moment to realize anything happened at all.

He didn’t say much, he didn’t really know what he could say at all. Instead, he “fixed” his glasses, which were actually in the proper place still due to how lightly Ewan tapped him, and also brought his hand to his own nose. 

starter for @crestcurse

It was going to take some practice to figure it out. This being his new prize of a Levin Sword, which he both wanted terribly and absolutely hated. On one hand, it kept him out of close combat which he much preferred.

But goddess above, the wretched noise.

He stole to the training grounds early in the morning to get some work in. No one would reasonably be there to see him struggle until after breakfast, so he was using his time wisely. Swords still admittedly felt strange in his hand, they reminded him of how scrawny and unfit he looked.

Yet, he spun it by the handle and kept at some swings and stabs per routine. He saw himself as weak, but could be quite luckily with his openings. Thus, he figured it worthwhile to keep at it with swordplay. 

Perhaps Ignatz got carried away with it though, as eventually he tilted the sword a bit too far upright while working. He felt a swift numbness charge through his hand and without warning the sword let off a blast. It didn’t tremor and send him to his tail-ends, but the burst of lightning made him screech and skid back on his heels. 

The dust settled and the impacts echo calmed itself, Ignatz cupping his hand to his mouth to keep himself quiet. “Oh,” he managed to squeak out, “oh goodness.” The sound was petrifying alone, and he didn’t like the flashes of light either that accompanied the thunder.

Bright smile, unwavering eyes, happy-go lucky attitude. “Dad?” Henry mumbled to himself when he saw the merchant that set up his shop at Garreg Mach. No, that couldn’t be, dad was devoured by the monsters from that one dimension. Ah well. Henry still felt a sense of kinship with the unknown man, so he set up his best smile as he approached the stranger.

“Helllooooo and welcome to Bill Swift’s Antique Shop. Now, you young gentleman might want to buy a sword, no?” Henry barely opened his mouth before the man started rattling more. “Ah, splendid splendid. If there’s a dream, there’s no better day to realize it than today is it not? Wonderful wonderful, you know you’re my most wonderful customer today, you are absolutely!” Henry nodded politely. Is that what people thought of him? The thought alone made him shake. “Lookey lookey look, I got a lil spoil for you, have I kid, lovely sword here. Belonged to Zoltan. You know who Zoltan is, don’t you? Of course you do, I bet you’re clever like that.” Henry had no idea what the man was talking about, but the sword lad seemed to be important. The man tried to catch his attention again. “Look kid, look look at it. It’s so lovely, it’s so shiny and it cuts through everything! Nothing can fix a strike from this boy, kiddo. Don’t tell my bro though, he’ll sell you his new adhesive. Terrible guy. Hate his guts. But this sword? It’s the real deal. Old too, older than your parents maybe.”

Henry doubted that. His parents were immortal. Happy little accident, but it made Thanksgivings unbearable. “I love it, it’s real shiny. I think I’ll buy one. How much is it?” Henry said as he collected his currency. He threw some random objects on the table. Coins, green jewels, stardust. The usual. “I doubt that’ll do kiddo, I need some more than that.”

Henry sulked. “My soul? You can have it! Thing is I kinda lost it, but it must be somewhere under the couch. Lemme check my dorm if it’s there. Now where have I last seen it?”

“Oh no lad, I need money! Big money! Give me money!” the man became increasingly desperate. Henry chuckled. “I don’t think I have that, my good sir.” he said with his polite voice, a southern accent.

“WELL. I NEED. IT.” the man said. “SO. NOW. TELL ME! WHERE IS THE MONEY!” he said, almost screaming. “Oooh wait, I just remembered I left my soul on the stove in the kitchen. Let me get it and we’ll figure out the payment. Bet I got a spell for that.”

“NO NO NO NO YOU RUIN EVERYTHING.” the man said. “Huh, guess it is my father.” Henry thought to himself. “GIVE IT TO ME.”

“Hey, I think that’s quite enough.” a passerby said.

Of course the Marketplace was loud, that’s just the nature of the spot. Bustling with people and noisy with excitement. But, such foul screaming wasn’t so common and acceptable.

So, when passing down the street on an everyday routine, it was offputting for Ignatz to see some man screaming his head off from behind the booth at a fellow student. He probably wouldn’t have poked his head in if it was any other context, but the man was a pathetic little merchant the likes he had known for all his years.

This better go quick.

“Hey,” Ignatz found the words as he approached, “I think that’s quite enough.” He stepped up behind Henry and gently pressed his hand against his shoulder. “Don’t stand to close,” he whispered a well advised warning, “the irritable ones can get scary.” He prayed he didn’t speak too loudly as he looked at the curdled face of the odd gentleman.

He looked at the signature sign of the antique shop, then back to the keeper, and pondered over it. “Are you new to this junction, sir?” Ignatz spoke in his kind manner, “I come through here every day, and I’ve never seen you before. I like to poke into places and shop for old coins now and then, so it’d be surprising if I had just met you.” 

Ignatz hoped the gentle introduction would ease the situation.

“If you are new, me and my friend,” he looked at Henry, unsure if that term suited him, “we’re students at the Monastery at the peak of the hills.” He motioned a hand gently towards the blade, “I know it’s easy to pick folks off of the street, but it would help to sell to an audience that can wield such a blade like that with ease, as opposed to mere students.” 

At this point Ignatz didn’t even know where he was going. He was just sort of stumbling around talking to himself, on the verge of puking his guts out. When he bumped into Sylvain at another decorated corner, his heart might as well should have exploded into a red puddle on his white shirt.

That would be easier at least. Being dead and writhing at his feet would resolve both of them of the awkward exchange of stutters and uncomfortable expressions. He couldn’t even look at Sylvain.

“This is,” Ignatz was finally getting frustrated with it all, “This is so stupid.” In all honesty, he didn’t even know what he was referring to. Be it the tradition, or his own indecisiveness. 

He took Sylvain’s hand, gently kissing his knuckles for a moment. When he was finished, he simply left Sylvain and trudged pass with a snarl. 

It was annoying, yes, but the realization of what he did set in somewhat. When he turned back though, Sylvain was already long gone. Ignatz sighed, and continued on his way.