ASHEN.

      he hopes it is not too UNREASONABLE of him, since he’s not the typical sort to request for a dance out of his … reluctance to partake in such social events in the first place. he REGRETS that this is also out of necessity, for his interests are currently placed elsewhere. SWEAT formed on his forehead as his gaze frantically darts around the ballroom for a certain, rather AMBITIOUS ( and quite frankly, terrifying ) student seeking him out like a hawk eyeing a fish hopelessly flopping along a narrow river stream.  ❛ if you would be so kind …  ❜

“you look more uncomfortable than hubert.”  edelgard leans against the vacant wall next to yuri,  just behind all the tables  &  the bustling students.  she sports a bemused expression for ahead of them,  dorothea leads hubert in a theatrical dance—  the mix of displeasure  &  focus on his face.  never prone to forgetting her manners though,  she nurses two cold glasses of the weak wine the academy allows their students to consume in her hands  &  she’s thankful for its frigidity when the ballroom seems so humid.  “would you like a drink,  yuri?  it’s an awfully warm evening.”

                        @lucdex··· / ball starter.

❝  it’s been quite a long time since i’ve been to one of these.  ❞  disconnection between surface and abyss has forced nobles, commoners, criminals, and all else in between into uncharted territory. isolation beneath such holy grounds. abyss acted as sanctuary to heretics and blasphemous beings, a sort of solace to those deemed undeserving. generosity received in the most cruelest of ways. frivolous activities, such as these social events, are not willingly offered to the people beneath the surface, the snakes in the dirt.

frustration writes itself blatantly across her features. perhaps it is the deprivation of sleep that renders her words barely coherent before him, still, it does not change the disgruntled groan that escapes her. thrice, did she attempt to explain her theory to him – was there a fault in her methods? 

she huffs, arms folding across her chest.  “ what i’m saying is that you, have access to the network i need to restore my house. ”   and here before them lies incoherent scribbles of arithmetic and their respective solutions. 

❝ is that right? ❞ perhaps through unlawful means, he’s accidentally established some sort of connection between himself and her fallen house. charm and blackmail coerced enough nobles for him to establish some sort of networking system. admittedly, it how he was capable of helping the dwellers of the abyss, through ill - gotten gains.

     ‘  i want you to join the golden deer, ’  he says, leaning back in his chair. his proposition is bound to cause some raised eyebrows among other things. perhaps some concern even. to hear the infamous schemer propose such offer would make many students restless; but even if they hadn’t heard it just seeing him together with the lord of the abyss would have been enough to start some ruckus already.

❝   you are friends with constance,   yes ?   ❞   despite himself,    there is a low-strung note of some bygone sadness,    perhaps wistfulness,    to his voice.   still,   he keeps is gaze stern,    a forced hardness that coats it like gleaming cuirass.    ❝   do you see her often ?   —–  if so,   i have a favor to ask.   ❞

@lucdex·  //  ♡

your eyes can be so cruel, they said. what a strange, albeit not necessarily untrue, assessment of his character. his smile, wicked; but his eyes never cruel? perhaps no one noticed before. dwelling beyond the beauty of lilac irides, something inhuman found comfort behind a pastel barricade, awaiting the day it outshone the bright glimmer of deception. the glow dusts his cheeks in soft crimson shades, brightens the ivory smile. but he is no less sinful beneath the mask. 

❝  well, aren’t you observant.  ❞ devastatingly sweet tones add to the fabrication of man, but the serpent ‘neath the flesh hissed loudly and bore it’s venomous fangs in defense. the monastery harbored monsters, eden slowly rotted away with their stench; but the church, ever so carefully, masked it with scents of rosewater, lavender, and chamomile. the archbishop and her clandestine knights, how they kept up appearances for their people was astounding. he simply adapted to their habits, perhaps; stole their facades, twisted them and made it his own. 

❝ it’s called body painting. ❞ STROKE OF SOFTENED BRISTLES  AGAINST UNPAINTED skin on florist’s forearm ; downcasting verdant gaze to porcelain surface. a hobby which she took self lessons on over the course of her years ; starting out as scribble strokes turned to flora portraits && so much more. ( LOCATIONS OF HER WORK ON FOREARMS && BACKS ). ❝ it’s quite relaxing from what my customers have told me && of course , ticklish too depending on the person.  ❞ corners rose high on her front , adjusting sight from her own limb to the other. ❝ would you like a painting? ❞

STARTER CALL - @lucdex·

’       you were   starin` at me   awfully fuckin` hard there for a minute.   that coulda` given anyone    𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑮 𝑰𝑫𝑬𝑨.        ‘