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knighteclipsed - Valter of Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones. adored by kano (they/it/he)
Mobile Links:
muse / mun / stats / supports / interview / thread tracker / affiliation
Other Muses:
selena (@fluxrspar)
Portrayal Notes:

Origami Around
trying on a metaphor
Sade Olutola
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Cosmic Funnies

â

⣠Chile in a Photography âŁ
sheepfilms
Cosimo Galluzzi
Show & Tell
DEAR READER
Claire Keane

Love Begins

pixel skylines

â
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
todays bird

seen from Brazil
seen from Brazil
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from Germany
seen from Germany

seen from Malaysia
seen from Singapore
seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States
seen from Germany

seen from Israel
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States
@knighteclipsed
Pinned
knighteclipsed - Valter of Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones. adored by kano (they/it/he)
Mobile Links:
muse / mun / stats / supports / interview / thread tracker / affiliation
Other Muses:
selena (@fluxrspar)
Portrayal Notes:

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public-facing thread trackers
In accordance with the new rules for June, Valter and Selena now have public thread trackers! Aside from the link here, there are a few ways to access them:
FOR VALTER.
On his homepage, the previous link to his SUBMIT page has been replaced with one titled THREADS, since we rarely get submissions anyway, and the link for them is consistent across blogs. This new link leads directly to his thread tracker.
The link to his tracker is also located in his pinned post and stats page in their respective link sections.
(The image for the second one is too thin for me to press the button to add my own alt text, but it's a screenshot of the top of his stats page, demonstrating a list of links, including one titled, "Thread Tracker".)
FOR SELENA.
Due to the way Selena's theme and pages are set up, being on my laptop (aka without a proper mouse/setup haha) means I cannot reveal them in the exact location I would like them to be. Therefore, while the links will remain in these general locations, I will probably be posting an update sometime later this month (after I get home lol) with updated instructions on how to find her thread tracker. If all else fails, she and Valter share a spreadsheet, so if you can't find it via her page, you can find it via Valter's!
Similar to Valter, Selena's navigation links on her theme contain a link to her thread tracker, literally titled "thread tracker". At present, it is the last in the line, but once I get back to my setup, I'll be moving it to be before her interview.
It is also accessible via her pinned post and stats page. Given that her stats page does not have a dedicated links section, this is the primary location that will be changed later this month. For now though, it is located at the top of her Class Mastery tab as a link labeled "Thread Tracker."
This is all the vital information I have to share! More specific details and musings underneath the cut.
Monthly Activity Check (May)
Status: Passed!
Skill Points Gained: Riding (Mission Board), Monthly Activity Point
Riding +1 (Thread: Like Glue): Riding -> D+ Any +1 (Monthly Activity Point): Flying -> A+ (â )
Current Total: 68 points
Classes Accessed: N/A
Class Mastered: N/A
In past years, pointedly, the Moonstone had not bothered to bother the now-king of Renaisâthere was simply no point, and heâd had very little interestâbut this year? This one?
Well, heâs always had an inclination towards mayhem; and knowing heâd already upset one twin, why should he not go and bother the other?
He does not announce himselfâhardly utters a wordâbut instead, in the lull of music and dancing (beneath the cover of dim lighting and raucous noise), one of Ephraimâs tulips is taken from his bouquet. Then, with the bloom mere inches from his teeth, the Moonstone opens his mouth to say:
â Hello there, Ephraim. Are you enjoying your night? â
The only warning Ephraim gets is when the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He doesn't know what or who, but danger is close by, and it doesn't take him long to find it.
One of his tulips slips from his bouquet and he follows it to a most unwelcome sight: Valter. The king's eyes narrow.
"Doesn't the monastery keep their dogs on a leash?" Ephraim turns to face him but doesn't step away. Eirika had told him of their encounter and he would be lying to say he wasn't hoping to encounter the man himself.
"But I am glad to see you. There's something that I must make clear to you."
Ephraim steps closer and reaches for the tulip he'd taken. "If you harm my sister, there is no power in this world that will keep me from you." And then he crushes it in his hand, wringing the petals in his grip until they twist and break, and when he releases it the petals scatter.
"Do you understand me?"
Itâs an impressively intimidating show, all things considered. Valter doesnât feel threatened in the slightest, but the on-command hostility is compelling! Heâs a fan.
The petals crumble and scatter, lost to the hallâs abyss of darkness and sound, and Valter, watching them for a moment before looking back to the boy before him, sighs and says:
â Eirika also called me a dog when we met. â With a grin: â Like brother, like sister, I suppose. â
Which is all an elaborate way to say, I am not frightened by you. Certainly, Jehanna had come up with an unfortunate ending, but that was one timeâand evidently, Ephraim hadnât succeeded at keeping him in the grave anyway. (Or putting him there? Whatever happened doesnât really matter anymore.) Worst come to pass, Valter would simply get back upâand that was a boon the twins did not have. That familiar mania again; that violent glimmer in his eyes:
â But Iâll keep your promise in mind, â Moonstone continues, stepping closer, an invasive presence that never quite knew when to ebb, â and in turn, I will make you one of my own: â
â You are nothing here, Ephraim. â (Said matter-of-fact, deadpan, cold and detached.) Laughing into the second half of his phrase, â Whatever it is you think you can do, I assure you you arenât half the threat you think you are. â
And then he takes a step back, draws one of his own blooms, and tucks it into the otherâs collar.
â Should you forget that, Iâll always be here to remind you. â
@knighteclipsed asked;
The passing of partners moves one hand to the next, the orchestra timing each exchange with the punctuation of a phrase; clear, consistent, and predictable. It is with this recognition that one knows where to insert himselfâand whenâto find that, after two partners have been run through, the third to enter his hold is one specific: eyed from the start, seafoam in the ocean, with a hand now clung to tightly. (Perhaps that is all it takes for the other to recognize himâthe subtle shift in intensity; a violence, of sorts, that was previously absent.) There is a moment before eye contact where he searches for another in the crowd; whether or not this person is found, his gaze then moves to lock with his partnerâs. â Hello there, Eirika. â (Said with the most charitable of smiles.) [ ZOFIA ] - Modeled after an Archanean court dance, but with an energetic twist. The entire body is engaged with the dance, creating a spectacle that is enjoyable to watch.
The spinning of dresses and coattails creates a whirling pattern across the dance floor as each participant moves in time with the swell of music. Each twist tilts the dance floor around her in a kaleidoscope of color and song and each new partner brings a new friend.
Until the hand that grasps hers is tight, clawed like a wyvern and with a fanged smile to match.
It's great poise that lets Eirika keep her steps in time with his. She won't allow him the pleasure of cowing her.
"Valter." She meets his gaze as she attempts to extract her hand from his. He doesn't release her, only smiles, as if he believes she's caught in his trap. No doubt he had timed this perfectly so that they would be partners and now he's loathed to let her go so quickly. The pair twirl to the melody, round and round, and just as she is trapped with him, so he is trapped with her.
As they twirl, she lifts her foot and brings the pointed heel down forcefully on his foot. There is no kindness in her eyes when she does it.
Eirika yanks her hand free and steps free of him and the other dancers. "Even a dog like you should know not to stick his nose where it will be smacked."
Eirika is not happy to see himâand that is fuel to an already dangerous fire. Where most would have the sense to back off before the waves became a tsunami, the Moonstone had a habit of waiting until the earthquake finally came; and the floods finally followed, sweeping all into its hungriest depths.
When she flutters to escape, his jaws only tighten, and each step of dance follows the turbulent rhythm of a motion made to experienceâof a show with a party wholly unwilling.
âand then she steps on his foot. (Quite pointedly, in fact.)
And Valter had known the point of a heel; heâd known the vitriol a weapon non-lethal could possess; nevertheless, the sudden sharpness is too unexpected (it really shouldnât have been), and, paired with the timing of her attempt, he finds the princess quite deftly escapes; and even bites back.
The realization emerges in a laugh erupting and self-assuredâamused by the turning of events. (Heâd always known the princess of Renais was something special.) â You never fail to disappoint me, Eirika, â he smiles.
(Passersby might note that anotherâs judgementâthat he truly should not be qualified as knightâmay never be more apparently correct than in this very moment.) There is something sinister in his eyesâa passive threat that nevertheless mirrors Renais.
â Is it truly so wrong to want to engage in the whirlwind of dance? Itâs not as though it was intentional for the two of us to end up partners. â (Another flash of warning in his expression then; a lie hardly concealed, to be quite frank.) â That would hardly be practical, would it? â
You never fail to disappoint me.

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[ COFFEE ] "You look like someone who might appreciate this kind of drink more than some of the other guests."
â Do I? â
Valter has seen coffee before, present about the monastery and amongst the refreshments of past balls; and he knew, decently well, that with all the myriad ways one could prepare the drink, how it was consumed spoke a degree of the consumerâs tastes. The boy presenting it to him, hardly notable, scarcely worthy of attention, wagers that the Moonstone would favor its tasteâbitter, usually, and often quite darkâmore than the average monastery resident, and this much was very likely true. He was never picky; very rarely cared for how his food was flavored; and the consequence was a palate that could take most thingsâeven if âappreciateâ was a strong word to employ in this context.
Now, whether this was a judgement made from observation or a vague sort of stereotyping, Valter could hardly be certain. (Further, it was worth wondering if he should even be accepting a drink from someone he doesnât know in the slightest.)
Well, even though it was often that his reputation preceded him (how many times was it that some stranger had come and threatened him over something he may or may not have done?), poison was a rather cowardly way to go about it, and something below most of the monastery. (Maybe whatever had him survive Jehanna would render such effects ineffective anyhow; itâs been years, and no one has successfully poisoned him yet.)
He takes the drinkâfinally, after his mind has run through the possibilities and wagered each of their consequences. Chronically incapable of thank youâs, one does not come voiced; instead, he takes one of his tulips and extends it to the boy.
â Here. An exchange. â
[ SLIP-UP ] "Hey, nice to- oh." Wait, that's not who Forde thought it was. "Sorry, thought you were someone else."
It is nothing to the Moonstone that he is bumped into (for general awareness was not a skill all of the monastery possessed), but it is the deliberate start of the interactionâfollowed, of course, by the swift pivotâthat makes him pause for a moment; to think; wonder.
(It is not often he is mistaken for someone else. For someone he isnâtâa woman, on occasionâyes, but he was still distinct even then; and he does not believe that even in dim lighting he was all too similar to anyone else.)
But then again, he didnât pay attention to everyone in Garreg Mach; perhaps he missed his doppelganger amidst the sea of commoners traveling about.
â Hmph. â I donât care. (Better to be pestered by a nobody than someone he actively disliked.) He is about to move on from the interaction then when he realizes the otherâs bouquetâof orchids: a bloom he was lacking at present. â Give me one of your flowers. I need it. â
"Hey, Valter. Long time no see, huh?" Niles appears behind the other man, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and as he pulls one of his lilies free from the bouquet to offer it to him. Whether Valter wants his space invaded (probably not), Niles doesn't really give much of a choice in the matter. His interactions with the other had been rather limited during the last mission they went on together. They'd seen quite a bit of each other back in the mirror world of Fortuna despite only investigating that magic forest behind the school together. And he proved capable during their final encounter with Eriella. He didn't seem like a terrible guy to have around.
"You look well. Have you been up to anything fun lately~?" There's a lilt in his voice and a mischievous glint in his eye but when is that not there? It's always there. "What are the chances we can convince Forsyth to come hang out with us too?"
Valter, indeed, did not want Niles all the way in his personal space.
Still, heâs since learned to ignore his adverse gut reaction and only respond as warrantedâhe and his coworker (past and present, somehow) were on non-negative terms, and so, he does not immediately shove away from the interaction. A huff instead; lending an ear to his wiles.
â Hello to you as well, â Moonstone replies simply, accepting the bloom and returning it with one of his tulips. Casual and uncommented, worn under the guise of nonchalance; it has been a while since the Coronet.
And then he quirks a smile at the mention of their third: that is, verdant Forsyth. (Heâd been planning to hunt the man down anywayâno doubt, he was present this year as he had been every year past!âand just the thought of the consequences could right any sour response he mightâve had to Niles.) It bubbles over into a series of cackles and a grin just as devious: â By myself, Iâd call the odds practically impossible, but with your aid, Niles, I think thereâs a rather decent chance. â
@knighteclipsed sent:
One would wonder if the Moonstone ever had anything better to do than accost those minding their own business. (Unfortunately, in present circumstances, this would appear to not be the case.)
For Valter had not explicitly sought to locate the ex-prince on the night of the ball, but there was a place in his heart reserved for all things home; and upon chancing the sight of the imperial family on the premises, how could he not choose to stalk his way over (to drift through the crowd until heâd found himself two steps from Lyon) and offer the humblest of hellos?
â And here Iâd thought youâd be too cowardly to show your face here. â (It is his method of greeting, the remark bordering on mockery, just barely maliciousâskimming the surface of vice.) â Iâm impressed, prince, â Valter smiles. â Youâre less pathetic than anticipated. â
For months and months, Lyon hasn't thought about Valter. He only assumed the man was still alive and stalking the hallowed halls of the monastery like a wraith.
Much like one, the general appears before the prince.
"...Valter." Raising an eyebrow, Lyon remains stony-faced and decidedly unamused by the mockery of a greeting. The older man no longer even bothers with the pretense of respectânot that Lyon takes any true offense. Back when the former general was nothing more than another piece on the chessboard called war, it didn't matter if the soldiers disrespected Lyon. Even now, it matters so little.
"Cowardice has nothing to do with my disinterest in parties." Lyon brushes off the thinly veiled insult. If it were anyone else, maybe he would have flinched or felt his fingers twitch. "While you can think of me as you will, I wonder if I am truly the pathetic one here."
The prince casts a pointed look at the man's necklace before meeting his gaze. Of course, Lyon is only assuming things here. Valter could be wearing an unrelated piece of jewelry. Even if it is the latter, the man must have paid some attention to Lyon's absence at previous balls.
That thought alone makes Lyon's skin crawl.
Truly a man who once suited hisâthe Demon King'sâpurposes.
He turns on his heel. "I see no point in entertaining this conversation any further while my friends are waiting."
[ NOHR ] - A quick-paced dance that focuses heavily on precise footwork and bold movements, evoking the image of two soldiers in battle.
It was fitting, Valter thinks, that the two of them would meet again at the Ethereal Ballâand in a state of violence, no less! Though it was the socially acceptable kind, timed and rhythmic, metered in its aggression, measured in extent and execution, theirs was a dance, undoubtedly, of violence; if not in reality, then in the realm of the heart.
âwhich was fitting, and the Moonstone danced in it the way that one might revel in bloodshed hard-earned and long-awaited: vibrant, alive, and warm with the fire of a hunger never satisfied but sated.
One sharp step, then another; the flash of a grin that doesnât know how to temper; if Valter is aware of his deviations from the tradition of the dance, cutting close where one would expect otherwise, he does not seem to demonstrate itânot beyond the wildness in his eyes, golden bright as one hand deftly snatches one of Sigurdâs roses, the next motion tucking it away into his own bouquet. (It is dramatic, it is kinetic, and then the dance continues as it should.)
â That means I win, by the way, â he then announces, extending, in exchange, one of his own tulips. Smirking, he elaborates, â because I managed to take one of yours first. â
(Regardless of whether or not the bloom is accepted, there is one already replacing that which was taken.)
â Consider it a consolation prize. â
(The song has not yet ended.)

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engagements.
Not quite late, but certainly not early either, the night of the ball comes and Moonstone is not exactly timely to arrive.
Still, he appearsâas he is wont, as he has fashioned; as he has every year pastâand he is less dressed in formal fashion as he is dressed for war: and what is the best sort of war but one where minds do their battle?
(And at the center of his attire: his namesake, a lone moonstone, hovered against his chest. Though scarcely seen otherwise, one of Grado may recognize its origin...)
At the entrance to the venue, he receives his bouquet.
TRACKER.
Valterâs Bouquet: Tulips Collected Flowers:
Rose: Sigurd, Maria Orchid: Forde Lily: Niles Hyacinth: Ronan Tulip: Ephraim
(Outfit + description under the cut.)
a blanket of white, unbroken
The long, dark nights often lead to despair, but this year seems to have led to a more extreme crisis. Some members of the Knights of Seiros defy their orders and steal away with some crest stones in the dark of night. The promise of power and, most importantly, eternal warmth in a cold winter drives their actions, but they are powerless against the curse. These monsters roaming the hills may have been your allies once, but there is no trace of them here.
The space between recognition and his crookedly-hewn smile is Katarina's one moment of satisfaction, though she had not expected to take any at all. No matter; it slips through her fingers the further he falls into his theatrics, tracing the arc of his grand gesture with an unmoved expression. Rather, it would be impossible to miss, the way he so painstakingly guides their eyes toward his quarry.
...But it is curious, the way he forfeits the advantage of surprise -- and moreover, it tells her so much about him, how he takes the blade so perfectly in hand and points it to his own throat. For what? For either the fear on her face or the thrill of carving death from a thrashing beast. Perhaps both, though she would wager that the latter is the great prize of his game.
She paints the very picture of a quiet girl, watching everything play out as if from afar (though her resting arm keeps the hidden dagger just within reach). An animal bereft of its senses wouldn't hold itself to any agreement -- a point she turns in her mind thrice over.
But until the chaos reaches her, let him have the joy of it. The burden and the solitude. She may not have been honest in her reason for following him, but she had been honest in her curiosity, placid expression obscuring the rapt attention with which she watches. The creature is no easy prey at least, wariness swelling, bursting into an almost rabid fury. When Valter lunges, so too does the beast answer in kind, snow and ice spraying through the air. The once-pristine wintry stage vanishes in an instant, monstrous tearing jagged streaks through the landscape.
Once, twice -- if each talon is not in itself an issue, then surely its massive size is, its full weight following its momentum as prey snarls at prey, beast attempting to knock the knight to the ground and rob him of his balance.
And so, the bait is taken, the monstrous mass barreling towards the Moonstone; and he is not caught off-guard, not left unprepared; he watches the way it movesâthe way it bounds over snow and rot and snaps its jaws as it does soâand in an instant, the pieces of its existences start to fall together. Wild, rabid, and perfectly untamedâa fanged, clawed, horned monstrosity that could only reflect the deepest, darkest depths of humanityâ
âand Valter finds it fitting: that a thing inflamed by battle would draw out the worst in a person.
Claws are ducked beneath, each motion both a measure of and a response to the creatureâs power, quick and agile; mighty and sharp. At best, the knight is grazed, and when that is recognized, the beast makes to snap its maw and teeth.
Reflex, then: that a general of many years and fighter of even more would know, by naught more than sheer instinct, to twist his spear and catch it between the monsterâs teethâto let the butt of it catch on the bottom jaw and the blade to dig into the roof of its mouthâmight be the only obvious outcome to some, but would Duessel still be standing here? (Would the Sunstone still be shining?) It is darkness that best reflects darkness, and when the beast struggles to come away from the metal that pierced it, Valter grabs onto its rocky carapace and climbs.
And his ripostes continue, blade finding the cracks between and digging into its fleshâitâs a hearty thing, heâs surmised, well-armored and resilient if the shining crest stone in its forehead was meant to suppose anything. (If he were a stronger magician, he mightâve tested that next, but alas; it would remain a mystery for now.) A lesser creature wouldâve died by now, but this one remains standing, and it remains strong.
It shakes him off with all the ease of a dog shaking off rain, and when the Moonstone lands, he finds the suddenness puts him off-balanceâfor just a moment, having to catch himself with his other foot, cautious of an offense that doesnât seem to follow.
Instead, the beast wallows in its pain, howling horrifically as the knight regains his footing, and in that moment, something deathly apparent becomes clear to him:
It was a child. (Full-grown beneath its skin, yes, but in the realm of monsters, it had only just been born, and it had risen in the wake of desperation, a despairing fervor and a terror to survive, and those base instincts seemed to remain.) Valter had been giving the thing too much respect.
He dashes forward againâthis time with the advantage of impetus, blade aimed for the stone just as the monster turns to face him again. The first time around, he had simply been cautious, but here? With his knowledgeâthat this was a base thing, capable of simple tactics onlyâhe finds a confidence otherwise unbased upon which to build his momentum: arrogance, almost.
It is but a child. You can best a child. (It wouldnât be that difficult, actually.)
In the thrashing of its form, his blade marks a few inches off-target, but he shifts it into a hold that digs, pushing deeper and deeper into the skull; and his position relative is held consistent, one hand holding onto the central horn just north of the stone and boots positioned above the teeth to keep steady.
â You know, itâs awfully wrong of you to be stealing crest stones from the church, â the knight then says, the grin on his face growing. â You ought to give it to me instead! Your life is forfeit, but at least it wonât go to waste. â
Wanted Plots (Infamous)
Not super pressed on having all of these taken (especially since Valter is the one of my two who absolutely has more threads LOL), but I've been wanting to assemble this since last moon, so...
AFFILIATED MISSION BOARD (GOLDEN DEER REQUIRED)
TO SEEK ONE'S HEAD â LANCE +1
The options provided are to either surrender one or sacrifice twenty-four, but those are the thoughts of a simpleton. After all, you have a drop-off point, don't you? Why not just go and kill the kidnappers yourselves? (This is Valter's resolutionâthe way of violence, of course. ^-^) taken by: mirel ( @bibliophiliacs )
WALK OF THE DEAD â NO SKILL POINT
Half-lucid, moonlit, and unmistakably blood-stained, Valter may be a knight of Seiros, but perhaps it was only a matter of time before the Moonstone submitted to his true nature... (The bodies suppose so, but why not ask him yourself?) taken by: n/a
UNAFFILIATED MISSION BOARD (ANYONE'S OYSTER)
GUILT AND THE GUILTY â GAUNTLETS +1
You shouldn't be here, and you probably know betterâunless you don't, in which case, the conversation that follows catch you further off-guard. Regardless, the device has been broken, and for whatever reason, you didn't get very far before coming across one of the knights... taken by: n/a
And, as always, I'm open to anything else not listed (or not on the mission board!) with an interesting enough pitch! These are just the ones that I had a strong enough idea for to request of thee, o' great TOA... (nods nods)
Oh, and before I forget! I have a preference for Discord DMs (Tumblr-only folks, feel free to message me for it, I'm not picky lol) for messaging, but I do check the plotting channel when pinged. I also check Tumblr IMs semi-consistently throughout the day, but it's not like I have notifications or anything lolololol.
Okay, thanks for swinging by! Cheers!! o/
maelstrom, songbird.
post-epiphany reunion.
True to her word, the little songbird parses through her belongings to produce two jars, notes affixed to the lids and distinctive contents within. One for physical wounds and another for other ailments. (A quaint little summary, but a simple one to recall.) A moment passes as Valter commits to memory which of the two was which.
And then he tucks them away, the jars small enough to fit comfortably in each of his front pockets. He wouldnât need to make much use of the space remaining regardless, but Valter doesnât doubt that his visible lack of extra carry impacted the quantity with which he was provided.
For that was simply Mariaâs character. Simple, polite, and considerate.
And by contrast, Valterâs was one infinitely more cunning and sharp. (Such was the dichotomy between the games they were playingâone seeking to help a friend while another sought to drive a stake into the heart of his foe.) She asks if he would like a message to be passed along to his adversary, and his grin is tempered just enough to look as though it were not malicious.
â Yes, â is his simple reply. â Iâm not certain when weâll next cross paths, but I realize I never thanked her for our last chat. â (Implied to have been before the prior monthâs happenings, but actually having occurred just a few minutes earlier.) â And Iâd like for her to be reminded that her knighthood lives on in the hearts of those sheâs inspired, even if the evidence of such is hard to see right in front of her. â
Would Maria carry on his precise verbiage? (He isnât certain, but to have it written down after having spoken it aloud feels oddly intentionalâtoo much to go without suspicion, so this would have to do.) At the very least, Valter believes this little passerine would do her best to chirp his message along as best as she is able; and that is all that he can ask.
(A shame he wouldnât get to see her reaction upfront, but watching from a distance would also suffice; consequences were fun enough to witness, after all.)
â If you could tell her that for me, that would be greatly appreciated. â
Yes, he says, and her eyes hold on Valter's smile for a moment. Something about it strikes strange. Not wrong, per se -- she has seen her share of awkward, three-coin smiles, and this certainly is not one -- but it catches the curiosity of her mind.
Well, maybe it's just that it feels like she doesn't often see him smile; perhaps she should be grateful that he is now. How happy she would be if it were freedom! How happy she would be if it was his. He has always been such an odd one to her -- tempestuous, feckless, and free, and yet there is a weight in those moments of quietude, few as she has seen.
"Mhm! You're thankful for your last chat..." One hand surfaces lazily, the thumb of the other bouncing from fingertip to fingertip as she recounts his words exactly. The words are softly murmured, not inaudible but secondary to his own. "...and you want to remind her that her knighthood lives on... in the hearts of those she's inspired. Even if the evidence -- of such -- is hard to see right in front of her...
"Got it!" The little cleric pauses on her ring finger, looking up to Valter with a determined nod. "I'll pass it on next time I see her -- I promise!"
Casting a glance over her shoulder, one of the other volunteers catches her eye and beckons for her to return to work. Offering her acknowledgment in a small wave, Maria looks back to her friend with an apologetic smile.
"I have to get back to work, though. And you're probably on your way soon, huh? Hee hee! Safe travels, Sir Valter!"
Away she goes, waving once before she turns; a second time when she looks back to him, just in case; a third time when he is gone, for all the wishes she's ever carried have always been sincere.
(And as she trots away, she suddenly wonders: had Valter ever been the type to smile for pleasantries?)
-- the end?
Monthly Activity Check (April)
Status: Passed!
Skill Points Gained: Knowledge Gem, Monthly Activity Point
Any +1 (Knowledge Gem): Flying -> A (â ) Any +1 (Monthly Activity Point): Flying -> A+
Current Total: 66 points
Classes Accessed: N/A
Class Mastered: N/A

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the only way to learn to kill
...is through a very friendly sparring match :D
"I am the king of Renais now," he corrects him. Whether he uses his title or not isn't actually important to Ephraim, but he will correct him just this once. "And I hear that the academy has you serving as a knight of Seiros. I wonder if they know the snake they have allowed in their midst."
Ephraim moves past him to stand in the training yard. He draws his lance in an arc in front of him and then holds it at his side at the ready.
"Come then. Cross blades with me, Moonstone. I also wish to see how great my skill has become since the last time I sank my spear into you. And to see if death has treated you any more kindly than life did."
While he is far from pleased to see Valter, a part of him is pleased to see him. Obviously he is bound by the monastery's trappings, though even being a general of Grado hadn't seemed to stymie his ambitions. Why should the church? Whatever his motives now, though, he is good for one thing: a completely friendly sparring match.
â King, â Valter echoes, allowing the word to roll around in his teeth. Of course he would be king. (That was the natural future for Renais with Fado gone, wasnât it? It was either him or Eirika or both, and time enough had passed for that to be decided.) A curt laugh rumbles in his chest at the recognition, then unravelling into a smile: â Of course. â
â You know, Eirika said the same thing. ââon the subject of Valterâs character and the Church, that is. â I suppose thatâs the like-mindedness of siblings, hm? â Twirling the lance in his hands, the knight stands himself opposite the fledgling monarch, eyes crawling over his formâwatching; searching; analyzing the other before electing to his move.
(And of course, he chooses to strike firstâeven if Ephraim had not offered; or if the once-prince had suggested a synchronized start in the name of fairness, the Moonstone wouldâve sought the upper hand.)
Itâs not entirely honest; it is not as though he is putting his soul into this battleâbut in one instant, he is upright, ready to wield himself a weapon, and the next: he is right before the other, poised to jab the wooden blade into the otherâs heart.
(And his eyes are alight with malice.)
the climbing of friendship | Minerva + Valter
âł Mission Board: Affluence - bow +1
Her words remained suspended for several seconds, burgundy eyes locked on the slim figure as he suddenly backtrack a little and thenâ!!
She didnât even have the time to properly react that the man nimbly overleapt the hole between the wooden planks, flying over the bridge and gracefully landing not far from her (and luckily for her, she did move from the edge of the bridge, otherwise he would have landed over her for sure). Few moments passed before Minerva could actually say anything, but one word firstly came out of her mouth: âSuperbâ
With that demonstration, Valter has certainly raptured the attention and interest of the Macedon princess, but she wouldnât go that far with compliments, she wasnât the type and plus, they were in the middle of an expedition, they should concentrate on the task. After she ascertained that he was alright, she turned on the other side, just to discover something very fascinating and actually auspicious âa cave!
She remembered that the main objective of this mission was finding a cave, but it wasnât the solely thing she found out by looking: before the cave, exactly in front of it, there was a large lake, a pond possibly, since it was largely scattered with reeds and lotus leaves. Someone would suggest to walk around it, but the cave apparently was somewhat surrounded on all sides, as if it was actually leading underneath the pond itself.
How curious⌠Minerva pondered to herself as she observed the body of water from afar, then shifting the gaze over her companion, wondering if he would suggest anything useful to surpass that obstacle; she lingered her glance a little more over him, studying his figure and wondering how many more adventure he completed during his lifetime âhe seemed quite the lonewolf, but perhaps he could be the perfect companion for this kind of tasks? The thought lifted off her mind soon enough and her lips departed, as she asked the question.
âCan you swim?â
â Of course. â (Itâs the ego of one who, even if the compliment had been offered, would never have been able to accept it with grace.) It was only a given that he could cross the gap; that he could leap and soar without repercussion; that when the maw of the earth had beckoned for his return, he had danced above its teethâfor not yet would he falter!
âŚWhich was to say his ego was massive, but he also felt the size was justified.
Eyes follow the Macedonâs then, drifting past their immediate circumstances and finding what was likely the aim of their travels: the cave, as well as the waters rumored to swirl around it. (If he was being honest, heâd expected something a tad more dangerous, but then againâif such a course could truly be labeled so, they mightâve been required to take with them a guide; Valter would take whatever small mercies he could find.)
Regardless: the water wraps around the cave, leaving no simply walkable pathway, and the apparent depths of the lake means that simply wading would not suffice in this instance. Had they steeds, it was entirely possible to simply fly over and land beside the entranceâor, on most earthbound mounts, to trot through the waters until they arrivedâbut such was not in their arsenal. (To go without assistance had been the appeal to begin after all; and here would be no exception.)
âŚStill, the Moonstone is loath to imagine the nuisance of actually having to swim. (There was no question of capability, but it was impractical in even half armor, and then figuring out how to bring it along undonnedâ)
â Hm? â (The question draws him from his thoughts.) â Of course I can. â What kind of question is that? It was seeming to be the way forward; but a nuisance it was, and there was no pretending.
âwhich plunges him back into his thoughts: what was the practicality of trying to bring his armor along? (It would weigh him down, and that, along with his other layers, would make traversing the distance as a swimmer nearly impossibleâfor anyone, including himself.) Carrying it on his back would be even more irrational; but he was not going to simply leave it behind.
His brow furrows furtherânow this is an issue! Illogical to bring along and impossible to go without; what, then, are the depths of the lake again? (Was it possible to wade through? What if he held his breath as he traveled?)
Then his eyes lift upwardsâto the sky, which may provide an answer where the land and sea would not. (If he could makeshift a way across, then he would be able to carry all his equipment without the encumbrance of water.) The ideal circumstance, surely, if he could make to have it happen.
â That wouldnât settle the issue of our equipment, â he finally says, a late addendum to his earlier statementâyes, he could swim, but that alone wasnât enough. â Unless you were willing to traverse the cave without some inventoryâand risk having it vanish while weâre potentially undergroundâweâll need to solve that issue as well. â
It was his way of offering a sayâto allow the other to weigh her judgement and posture an idea or two of her own: cooperation, however rarely the Moonstone may ask or offer it.
â Do you have any ideas? â