Future Witness

（ gerome ）​:

Gerome makes it a point to be trained and ready to wield any weaponry– he doesn’t have to be the best at them, but if push comes to shove, he doesn’t want to feel disabled. Swords required plenty of adjustment on his side– it doesn’t have the reach that he’s used to and benefits the more agile folk like Inigo. It doesn’t stop him from training, regardless. The Lucina in Garreg Mach felt different than the one he knows. It has only been months since they chose different parts, but in her presences, he feels lacking. Did she train much more rigorously than he did? Did he slack off somehow? 

Today’s match proved just how much he needed to work on, his hand going numb as he gets disarmed. He holds his breath the moment Lucina claims her victory, and if she’s not smiling victoriously yet, he knows she will in a while. Well played…

“…lets.” He surrenders, both hands raised up briefly. 

He’ll give his input later, for now, he catches his breath and recovers. He takes a step back and reclaims his sword just so he could put it away. It was already dark, and the Great Hall is most likely packed with students and faculty alike. He wipes the dust off his training sword and starts dabbing cloth doused in cold water on his neck. It’s been a long day, the noise from the Hall will just give him a headache. Waiting it out seems… ideal. 

He deposits his training sword back to where the weapons are stored, and turns to Lucina, “You can go ahead. I don’t feel like eating yet.”

     Lucina takes her time to recover as well, shoulders now relaxed, blade held down. It was a long and productive day, one that deserves to end on a good note. She’s sure a peer mentioned what’s served in the Great Hall for dinner, at the moment, however, she can’t seem to recall. She dabs a wet towel over her forehead and takes a second to let herself cool and rest. It’s only when Gerome calls out to her that she puts it away and begins walking towards him.

     ❝ Nonsense, Gerome. ❞ It’s her turn to wipe the dust from her training sword, but she meets the gaze of the wyvern rider. What is he talking about? ❝ Since when were you the type to skip a meal simply because you don’t feel like it? ❞ Her tone isn’t accusatory, but fact. Both Gerome and Laurent made sure they all committed to the proper routines back in the days of the war, and meals were never skipped or prolonged. If he was any other person, she would consider him distraught from the match. The masked rider bore no such ill thoughts, she’s sure. It must be his distaste for a large gathering. 

（ celica ）​:

A warm smile graces her features at the other woman’s words, Celica’s demeanor not at all tense, despite the fact that they would soon be crossing blades. In fact, the young queen found herself rather excited to be pitted against such a talented swordswoman. Though she didn’t know much about Lucina’s history (only that she was from Ylisse, which in itself told an interesting story), she’s witnessed the other’s skill with a blade on many an occasion. 

If anything, sparring with her just might teach Celica a great deal.

“And I in yours,” Blade held securely at her right side, Celica leans forward in a light bow, “I anticipate a fine match, Lucina.”

Her demeanor then shifts. Celica straightens and takes her offensive stance, right arm drawing back to hold her sword level to her chest. Left hand hovers over the blade—the queen reminding herself not to use magic with it here—and with the uttering of a single, “Engarde,” the balls of her feet press into the ground, and she throws herself into a sprint towards the other woman.

Her sword is jabbed forward, aiming straight for Lucina’s middle. Thankfully, their weapons were only blunted ones.

     Lucina returns the gesture, bowing right after Celica. Prior knowledge of the other flash by, recalling what she can use to her advantage. Lucina straightens up and faces the other sideways, sword leveled at her chest. Celica is a fast striker. The question is, between them, who’s faster?

     Their match begins, and two women seemingly leap forward, quick to strike without holding anything back. Lucina intended to do a faint and attack, but was fell short, with the Queen acting faster than her. This Celica is quicker than the one Lucina had the honor to meet. 

     The Ylissean takes a quick leap to the left to the dodge a moment too late. The sword hits her almost at the center of her torso. The wind gets knocked out of her as the dull blade connects with the padding. She almost stumbles as she moves to the side, eyes swooping down to find an opening. Fast and strong, Lucina notes, still shifting away but not without striking back. 

（ father ）:

starter for @lolucina

          Ever since arriving at Garreg Mach, there’d been no shortage of things to do. Between the classes, and the missions, and the meetings, and the toddler in his room, Chrom had worn himself thin—and he was glad of it. Something about living through strife made it hard to sit still, yet he could honestly say that he was much happier building something than he had ever been when he was holding it together.

          Gods, Em. How’d you do it? The Grimleal nipping at their heels, half of Ylisse in ruins to pay for their father’s judgement, and not one but two children in her care when she herself had barely had ten years behind her. She had never admitted to being anything less than fine, and for the life of him Chrom had no idea how one could be so close to another who held so many secrets. Every day, he learned more about his late sister, and every day, that was all he could do. It was just a matter of taking up the reigns of those who’d come before you, accepting their successes, and their failures, and praying you were doing it right. King to daughter, sister to brother, and father to…

          “——Lucina?”

          All of a sudden, he was breathless. The handful of papers he’d been clutching drifted to the floor like confetti, and with nothing else between his hands, they reached for her. It was a simple matter of putting one foot in front of the other, until it was eight, ten, fifteen steps—what a small price to pay to have her there again, and to know beyond any shadow of a doubt that this was no dream.

         “It’s you—I mean, you’re here,” he said. Then, there was his laugh. It bubbled up from his throat, light and deep and airy all at once. In the span of that sound his grip moved from her back, to her shoulders, to her face, until warm and calloused fingers ran down the ridge of her ears and the ends of her hair. “You cut it?”

          He didn’t know what else to say, or at least, he didn’t know what to say first. There must have been a thousand little things, each as small and vapid as the last, but in this moment they were everything to him. Questions like where she’d been, and how long she planned to stay? For now though, he’d have to settle for just two.

         “How are you?” he asked, and as though only just realizing how close he’d pressed them, Chrom detached himself from her. He really shouldn’t have rushed at her like that, but the truth was that he couldn’t help himself. Eyes tired, and head shaking, all he could do was beam at her, even as he moved away. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know if you’d… well, I left a letter for you in Ylisse. Did you get it?”

     Lucina has long since come to terms with the path she chose after the war. The child growing up in Ylisstol Castle will have the happiness and peace she never experienced. And she’s happy for her, for her father, for her mother... The present is kinder this time around, their future brighter and free of the threat that could dim it. She feels nothing but contentment for this, and with her travels, she feels sustained, fulfilled.

     She misses her friends and family from time to time. Her heart does not feel emptiness from not having her around. As long as they’re safe, she need not worry. Even so, despite this contentment in her heart, family finds you no matter where she goes in the world.

                                                                                  ——Lucina?

     Her name was called by the most familiar voice. She never got the chance to look back to see him, arms quick to wrap themselves around her and fill her with the warmth only a father can give. He has such a soft heart, it makes her soft, too. His laughter is a gem to the world. It was so pure and joyous, if she was any other person she would have laughed along. Instead, she closes her eyes and smiles through the embrace, her hand reaching for his back to return the favor. Lucina does not sorely miss her family but she would never pass on the chance to hold them. 

     The frantic father in him hurriedly inspects her well-being, and despite feeling a twinge of embarrassment from this display in front of classmates and strangers from other Houses, Lucina doesn’t stop him and instead pulls on the ends of her hair, opposite to where he’s holding, ❝ I have. It’s harder to maintain it’s former length as I traveled around. I... truly feel more comfortable with this. It’s not too terrible, is it? ❞

     Freed from the hug, she’s able to see him more clearly. Her trip to the training grounds would have to wait. There are questions in her head at the moment that needed an answering, and a father she's simply so glad to see. There’s worry and exhaustion on his face, hidden under the brighter disposition he’s currently wearing, but she sees it. She feels it too rude to ask why he seems to have aged over such a short span in time, but it’s his question that gives her the chance to inquire more. ❝ I’ve been well, Father. There’s so much I could tell you if we have the time to, however... ❞

      The mention of a letter makes her think back on the last time they saw her. Not long after the war has ended, Lucina decided to journey on her own. Hidden under an ordinary hooded cloak, she observed her loved ones from afar before departing and disappearing. She never said good bye, or gave them a chance to say theirs. The guilt isn’t heavy, but it’s there.

（ morgan ）​:

Morgan near trotted past Lucina. She had seen Lucina around but the moment Lucina questioned who she was…. well perhap Morgan has misremembered the past Lucina? Who knew? They were fighting, then at a beach, then… well she didn’t know. 

“The daughter of the world’s greatest tactician! That’s me!” Morgan responded with a smile. She replied giving a bit of a satirical salute. When Morgan heard of her mission she let out a small “ahhhh” in understanding.

“I see. You’ve definitely contracted the right person for the job. There’s no one better than me at building Ylisstol Castle! Except those who actually built the castle. If I’m being honest, I may actually have more of an affinity to breaking a castle rather than fixing it….” Morgan mused on the last tidbit of information.

“I can still help though. I’ll be sure to topple it…. to not topple it a fourth time.” Morgan quickly corrected.

     It must have been the heat of the sun, but a trail of sweat appears as Morgan responds. Surely, she’s jesting. She places her trust in the tactician’s daughter, and with it, the fate of Ylisstol Castle. ❝ For a second you had me worried. We’ll make a fantastic castle, I’m sure. ❞

（ felix ）​:

           gifted swordsman he might be, but ‘ special ’ is not a moniker he seeks to garner from his fellow peers. it implies a degree of singularity, some kind of glory or spotlight he has no interest in. whatever talent he has comes from circumstance, discipline, mentorship, and, above all, his own diligence. not everyone can boast all of these, he realizes, but he’s not unique in possessing them either. he regards the girl who praises him, assests the cadence of her firm insistence, doesn’t balk from holding her gaze. its night blue is fierce and unyielding, neither brimming with envy nor sweetly sycophantic, both of which he’s more accustomed to than he’d prefer to admit. but every inch of her, from her posture to the ambitious edge beneath her words, is that of a warrior. he’s met few others in the last year here who are like him. 

          praise to this degree is almost unheard of in his upbringing, but her confidence and sure delivery — swordswoman of some renown — thick indigo hair and steely aspiration. she could almost be a relative.

          ❝ hm. it’s not a simple technique, ❞ he replies — deciding to settle on a pragmatic appreciation of her commendation. ❝ but a skilled swordsman can master it with the right mindset and training. ❞ if he recalls, she hasn’t been here long, but already gossip has started to circle, as expected. his expression shifts to one of keen regard; rumors are rumors, but it’s easy to see that she’s not an ordinary fighter. ❝ lucina, right? they say you’re a great warrior who’s achieved impossible things. perhaps we should test you, ❞ he offers, a spark lighting behind amber, ❝ see how much of that is really true. ❞

     ❝ I try to keep my ears closed to rumors, they’re often exaggerations. I’m afraid a great warrior is a bit much. ❞ Great warrior... she wishes that to be true. She’s no stranger to a heavy weight on her shoulders. All her life is a series of expectations both from those around her, and herself. It’s the force that drives her to move forward, the one thing she must never forget lest she wished to disappoint those around her. Nowadays, it’s more freeing. The weight has been lifted and what’s left is her own dreams and aspirations-- the need to be strong and even stronger to make sure the peace that they’ve earned will never be taken a second time around. 

（ sothe ）​​:

beach purgatory | @l-bloomed-overachiever-l and @lolucina asked:

🌴 Well, everyone was stuck at this beach, so Annette figured that she might as well make the most of it and do everything she can. A few trees in the distance caught her eye, one in particular seemed to have little orange dots among the leaves. She turned to the person closest to her, which happened to be Sothe, and said “Hey! Do you wanna race to that tree over there? I think I might’ve seen some fruit!”

He was a bit startled by the sudden address, but looked over in the direction she was pointing in. Indeed, he could see fruit handing on the branches high above around and dang, there was much. The resources of the island seemed to be infinite, but even what they had available at all times was a lot. 

“Should we get some for everyone?” he asked, immediately regretting the question. That would be a lot of oranges. “On second thought, we might need more help with that, to gather and later carry them. Can’t say I’m weak, but I can only hold so many,” before the mountain becomes too high and collapses on the person carrying it.

Sothe looked around for more people. Most everyone was out at sea, but there were a couple people walking around. The first of them he called out to. “Oi, Lucina! Want to climb some orange trees?”

(next: Lucina!)

    In her dreams, she was back in the oceans. No risen to tarnish what could possibly be a wonderful vacation, just the open seas and all it has to offer. She feels relaxed in this dream. It was so peaceful, it felt unreal. For however long it will last, she’ll cherish it.

     Falchion in hand, she roams the sandy shores, contemplating if she should try out fishing or hunt for other wildlife. She’s curious to know what her dream has to offer. As if to solve her indecision, she overhears a conversation, and soon gets dragged into it. Climbing fruit trees... that’s too bad of a way to pass the time. ❝ I would be happy to assist. Shall I partake in your race, or would you like me to be the overseer? ❞ 

（ @displaced-tactician ）

     For the third time today, the waves crashed on to the sand where Lucina sat by, toppling her intricately made castle in the sands. It took the third fall of Ylisstol Castle before she decided it was time to relocate. She considers this training -- practice rounds before she gets serious and construct the real thing. By the fourth time, she’s sure, she’ll make a perfect replica.

    In her search for a good spot, she sees a mop of dark hair and eyes that reminded her of someone dear and close not just to her, but her father and the rest of the Shepherds. She’s met her before, in foreign lands where Heroes were called and summoned. She’s as brilliant as the one she knows growing up. Perhaps this was her dream’s way of telling her she can’t do this task alone. 

（ @celestialbloom​ : Intriguing Impression Starter ） 

     Luck was by Lucina’s side when the house assigned to her when she enrolled in Garreg Mach not only housed familiar friends, but skilled sword wielders she has the honor to observe and fight against. There was Alm, Alfonse, Felix, Inigo, and to her delight, a fellow swords-woman: Celica. Lucina’s own experience looks nonexistent when pit together among them despite the fights she’s endured across different realms. She knows they experienced their fair share of war too, most especially the King and Queen of their old kingdom. To be surrounded by strong and admirable figures was intimidating. Instead of demotivating her, it only fuels her drive to do better. She’s not so bold as to ask them to train with her but observing them is often enough. 

                                                        ❝ You’re going to be my sparring partner, then? ❞

      Come the call for training among themselves in the Blue Lion house, Lucina was once more favored by Lady Luck to be grouped with the Queen, Celica. She’s graceful as she is strong, with expertise in both magic and with a sword. Admiration came naturally, and she had the honor of witnessing her fight in multiple occasions-- although she might not remember those instances -- in different worlds, in different timelines, being her ally and raising her blade alongside hers... Today, she raises it against. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit she was excited. 

（ @forlornwyvernrider ） 

     A day of lecture and training always ends with an extra round of training, either by herself or with a partner. Today, the one that keeps her company is Gerome. She favors him as a training partner. He doesn’t hold back both in strength and input afterwards. He’s harsh, but well-meaning. Intimidating, but kind. Most importantly, he’s a friend.

     Even though she has the advantage with swords fights, Gerome always fights her with the same bravado as he would if he were wielding his poleaxe or his lance. He gains nothing from their spar with the shorter blade yet somehow he finds a way to make it seem like he’s doing it for his own selfish reasons. They have not been friends and close allies for years only for his supposed leader to fail to see through his intentions. She won’t tease him about it, at least. He already gets the brunt of it from Severa. The confusion on his face when she answers his ‘selfishness’ with a small smile is enough.

     When the sky darkens and the training grounds clear up, their extended training session comes to an end. As always, Gerome was a formidable opponent, each hit stronger than the last. If she wasn’t careful, he’d so easily disarm her. She’s strong as well and much to her own surprise and delight, the one who’s blade flies from one’s grip is Gerome.

（ @wolfhednar : Intriguing Impression Starter ）

      ❝ I do agree with the Professor. You’re already the best i’ve seen in the monastery with a blade. If you’re to master magic, I’d be terrified to face you on the battlefield. ❞ Lucina is not the type to hand out compliments so readily nor is she the type to waste someone’s time with empty words. 

     The lecture today brought to light a curiosity pecking at the back of her mind. Despite claiming magic is not his forte, the confidence he posts when remarking about his own swordsmanship reminds Lucina of the time she witnessed him perform Astra. It made her feel inadequate... and at the same time inspired to do more. She’s not as competitive as some of her peers, but to have a goal is something she always appreciates. Right now, the hurdle she needs to cross comes in the form of Felix Hugo Fraldarius.

                                                           ❝ Me? I’m not anyone special. ❞