Verdant Winds, Red Roses

“Oh, I don’t know. I was supposed to meet up with someone.” She couldn’t just volunteer her efforts so hard like this. And especially not with the pegasi. That was basically a one way ticket to stable duty and there was no way she would ever subject herself to that dirty job.

Hilda’s new pegasus friend had a different idea. It nuzzled at her hand and licked her fingers. “Awww baby, you really don’t want me to go, do you?” Her voice is sweet and cooing as she addresses the animal but returns to normal when she continues speaking to Lorenz. “But I guess it seems like that will have to wait until later. Not when I’ve got you and this little cutie here so desperate to spend time with me.” Leading the little foal around wouldn’t really feel like work anyway and she couldn’t help that she was getting a little bit attached. After everything Lorenz did for her and how sweet he always was to her, she could probably stand to do a little more for him other than just sing his praises to her brother in her letters. This probably didn’t need to go home to Holst though. At least not the part about how she joined in the work. Holst would probably get a kick out of imagining Lorenz being bullied by a baby pegasus though.

“Alright, little buddy,” Hilda stood and took the lead for the pegasus from Lorenz, “you ready to take a little walk with your girl, Hilda? You too, Lorenz. Come on!” With her other hand she reached for one of his and dragged him along with her.

“Our duties do take precedence over any non-business matters,” Lorenz reminded her gently. Every family was different, of course, yet he found himself at odds with other nobles who managed to relax while not feeling on call for their chores or responsibilities. Too many cups of tea had gone cold when he was whisked away for one thing or another, but it wasn’t his place to be bitter.

Oh, so Hilda was falling for the pegasus? That suited him. He gladly handed off the lead to her, watching as the foal directed its curious licking and sniffing towards her instead. “Ah, there we are. It’s much appreciated.” The foal would have to get used to any rider or master tending to it. For a moment, Lorenz pondered making an escape but Hilda’s hand caught him right as the thought crossed his mind.

“Ack! Lead the baby, not me!” He followed anyway, as always, scrambling to catch up. Lorenz steadied himself at Hilda’s side, in step with her and the pegasus.

Hmmm.

She was still holding his hand.

Lorenz looked away for a moment, smoothing down his aerodynamic haircut with his free hand. It simply wouldn’t do to seem any amount of disheveled. He glanced back down at her, trying very hard to not let on that he was intimately aware of their clasped hands.

“No luck.” Ike’s tempted to reply with look of incredulity because truthfully– does he look like he’s the kind of person who would wield a book to battle? Well, the heavier tomes could be, because those edges can be very sharp when thrown– no, that’s not relevant right now.  Shuttling away the memory of Soren clubbing someone over the head with a book (very successfully) and rubbing away the phantom ache on the back of his skull, Ike turns to look at the crab army.  That is, actually a problem. He narrows his gaze. Are there any other solutions? If not ice, then water? No, he doubts that the faculty would appreciate the dining hall flooded, if they’re already running damage control with the crabs.  Perhaps they could crush the crab legs or sever their claws? The crabs would still be alive, albeit diminished… Frowning, his gaze trails past to the broom in his hand. A tool for sweeping– sweeping the crabs might work, but he has nothing to sweep it into.  A problem that can’t be solved with brute force– but what about redirection? Ike’s eyes light up as he looks around, at the tables and benches that litter the student hall. The issue at the moment is time, because the crabs are going to escape if they don’t do anything. They could get buckets later to scoop the crabs into, but controlling where the crabs go would be the first thing to address.  Lock down the problem first, solve it later. Ike digs his fingers into the lip of table.   With a shout, the wood slams to its side with a crash. Crabs are sent flying, and Ike winces as he feels several shells crack under the weight of the furniture wedging into them. Wrapping his arms around the legs, he drags the table across to block off one side of the tide. 

It doesn’t look good. The wave of clacking menace is advancing too quickly– he needs help.  “Hey! You there!” Oh, he’s tempted to call him a plum again, but that shout probably meant he didn’t appreciate it. “We can’t freeze them, but we can barricade them! Get a bench!”  Then begins his mad dash to another table, to replicate the feat. 

The impact of the table overturning onto the floor made Lorenz’s teeth clench. For one who dined so formally as though under the inspection of a strict tutor, destroying the dining hall with such a displacing ruckus was truly a crime.

The circumstances didn’t leave any other options, however.

Lorenz gripped the edge of a table and shoved, bending his knees low to quickly slam it down against the floor. From there he charged with it, barricading the crabs into a corner effectively. The smooth surface would make it difficult for any to gain traction and scramble up and over, but these were already remarkable intelligent specimens more capable of teamwork than most students in group projects.

“Help me lift a table on top as a lid! Then we’ll.. I don’t know anymore, find an ice mage or the kitchen staff to deal with them.”

“Who are you, by the way?” Lorenz would have preferred any other kind of introduction to this. “I’ll have you know I am not a plum, I am Lorenz Hellman Glocester.”

Starter for @ordeliacutie

Lorenz had the oddest sense of déjà vu as he hummed to himself, working on a costume, yet he had no idea why. He didn’t make a habit of dressing up as his ancestors. In fact, he wasn’t even aware Garreg Mach had a book club until he saw the announcements for the Lion’s Garland contest. The Pages of the Blessed Incunabula reportedly held it every year. He felt as though he should’ve known that already, but the postings had been news to him.

Ah, it didn’t matter. He was going to give it his best shot.

He leaned over a long desk in the Golden Deer classroom, concentrating as he glanced between a history book open to a spread of numerous coats of arms and a cloth banner laid out flat in front of him. He held a paintbrush with fabric paint loaded onto it over the blank white battle banner and carefully painted on a design as best he could of a crescent moon paired with his own crest of Gloucester inside of it.

A noise from the classroom door startled him and he yanked back the painbrush to his chest to keep from staining the flag. Who else needed the classroom on a weekend? He turned around and smiled, at ease.

“I have learned some. Though I can’t guarantee it’d be helpful.” Morgan replied honestly. She did learn how to sap people’s health away after all, not give it to them.

She watched Lorenz utilize the healing magic himself. Though as she looked upon the man with a fracture she couldn’t help but feel she had seen much worse. It looked so quiet and tame. In fact, she was somewhat underwhelmed.

She didn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand it was an easy fix. Obtain someone with healing magic, tomes, or staves and bam fixed. On the other hand she could only assume she had been exposed to much worse at home, which was why she was okay now. But she didn’t even remember it.

“Back home we used a Healing Staff to heal. Not many could just draw in the air and bam you’re healed.” Morgan communicated to Lorenz.

“It’s actually been quite a drastic change for me to not use tomes as a primary focus for fun spells like Thoron. I think…. yeah I bet I used more manual methods for minor injuries. Wraps, splints, duty shifts, and what have you. Staffs were sometimes rare and as the best tactician to have ever existed, I bet I needed to take that into accountalongside being able to diagnose most basic injuries. Probably.” Morgan mused, unknowingly knowing both how right and how wrong she was.

Lorenz often gave himself too much credit where it wasn’t necessarily earned, but teaching was one thing he was genuinely uncertain about. For one thing, he wasn’t the most popular around younger students. Especially not ladies. He came on too strong. Well, if he was being honest, he either came on too strong, nagged, or got bossy all too quickly. It took deliberate action to break poor habits, even if they came from a place of good intentions. The Deer didn’t need to be herded as much as he tried to herd them. Usually.

Well, Morgan was a girl, and they were doing fine.

But he still had less experience teaching than he wished. He was less a tutor and more someone who coerced others into doing their homework. Right then, he was painfully aware of the difference. He watched Morgan’s reaction, relieved they could have a dialogue. She was smart and caught on fast- even if that tactician comment was a tad cocky. “Best tactician ever, hm? I like that confidence and I’d challenge you on it- but let’s see... yes, from what I gather of your home, staves and tomes were the norm.

nobletoatea​:

Now I Am Unbreakable

His fellow student is entirely reasonable in being cross, and Arthur knows it. Still, he can’t help but feel irritated about it, because really. How was he supposed to know he’d hit the guy in the head? He was blindfolded! It’s not his fault.

By the time Lorenz gets behind him in line, Arthur has worked himself up, and the comment only sours his mood. “You say that like you think I need any teaching,” he mutters, yanking the blindfold back over his eyes. His grumpiness isn’t helped by the vendor spinning him again, and when that’s done he’s practically seething through his teeth. He grips the stick even tighter in his hands, stomps a pace or two closer to the piñata, readies himself, and swings.

The stick arcs through the air, beautifully, the full weight of Arthur’s frustrations behind it. It hits the piñata with a resounding crack.

Arthur holds it there for a moment, shoulders shaking. Then all the anger ebbs out of him, replaced by cold horror and embarrassment. He’d hit the piñata. He’d hit it with all the force he could muster. And still, as he pulls the blindfold off a second time, he realizes that the most his effort has gotten him is that he’s put a dent in it. A substantial dent, sure, but - if this is all his best effort gets him, what’s the point of even trying again?

He hands the lance off to Lorenz, not even looking him in the eye. “Fine. You try,” he says, before stalking off a few paces and slipping down against a wall to watch if Lorenz could truly do any better.

They were both in a sour mood, it seemed, yet the source of such a mood was also a fine vessel for stress relief. He rubbed his head as he watched, scowling from the ache. Arthur had meant business with that hit, after all. Lorenz was impressed with the next thwack, mostly because it actually found its rightful target, and only hoped he too could make a substantial dent.

“Well then, let’s see how I fare.” 

Lorenz paid a few coins to the vendor, feeling silly all the while, and let himself be blindfolded and spun around. He frowned as it happened- he’d been so certain he knew where the piñata was, but all certainty was gone the moment he came to a halt. Had he been spun exactly three times? If so, he should be facing his target dead on. No pinpricks of light even made it through the blindfold, so he had nothing to go on. Probing or feeling his way around with the lancelike stick was against the rules, so he had to trust his judgment and noble instincts...

He couldn’t admit defeat.

It wasn’t revenge. It wasn’t meant to be revenge, he swore, but he swung right at Arthur in his dizzied and blinded state as though swinging a baseball bat.

At this time Lorenz is available for every Seaboard Mission! He’s also always available for non mission threads!

nobletoatea​:

flowerofgoneril​:

nobletoatea​:

Horse Ducklings [Hilda & Lorenz]

It was really was endearing to see Lorenz so flustered. He was actually pretty cute covered in fluff and blushing bright red. It was refreshing to see Lorenz the real person and not just Lorenz the Perfect Noble ™. Hilda did feel bad for embarrassing him and smiled softly. The babies were cute and it probably wouldn’t be too much work to just pet them and cuddle them while Lorenz tried harnessing them. She supposed she could help him out just a little bit. “Well, my dear Lorenz, it seems you’ve caught me in a generous mood.”

She kneeled down and softly stroked Lorenz’s baby pegasus friend’s nose. “How could I say no to this cute widdle face!” Hilda cooed. “You’re so much better than those awful, scary wyverns, yes you are!”

Turning her attention back to Lorenz, Hilda remarked, “you know, it’s pretty cute how much they like you. I guess they must sense how sweet and helpful you are.” It couldn’t hurt to butter him up a little bit.

He didn’t hold back his sigh of relief. “Thank you, Hilda.” She got right to work cooing and gushing over the baby pegasus. Lorenz supposed they were all rather cute, even if he didn’t prioritize cuteness in anything. Still, there was pleasantness to be found in delicate fluff and new life. It didn’t hurt to have a soft spot for something so precious.

“Er? Thank you.” Lorenz’s face twitched and he wiped at his face again, clearing off any more of the pegasus’s licking, but most importantly he was also hiding a blush. “They seem to like you even more,” he returned. He kept his ‘thank the goddess’ ending of the phrase silent.

nobletoatea​:

Pincer Attack [Ike & Lorenz]

The next dish for dinner is snowy simmered crab, baked to fine perfection. From what Ike had heard of it, it was to die for. But not like this, he grouses. The pencil in his fingers creaks in his grip. Eyes watery with strain, he looks up and wonders if his brain or the crabs have been steamed for longer. The paper on the bench has long since dissolved into aimless scribbles, and the Reason book that was given to him lies open like a bold taunt. Ike stares blankly ahead, and doesn’t even register as the student directly in his line of sight yowls for some reason or other. It’s too formidable an adversary. Ike admits defeat: deflates and lets himself contact the table with a dull thunk, hissing as he feels pain travel down his forehead to his fingers.  Wait, fingers? Bleary, he picks himself up, shaking out his hands, and feels weight dangle off an edge. He blinks. A crustacean hangs off his thumb, beady eyes filled with malice as it stares him down.  Ike stares at it. His eyes swivel over as he hears his name called, and he wonders how the student with purple hair knows his name. Hilda? Or it couldn’t be, he must have misheard, there’s no way he’d know (Is that a rose nested in his breast?!) —someone like that.   …Right, and the whole cafeteria, filled with weapon-wielding crabs. Huh? When had that happened?  The student’s urgent cry reminds him that he should DO something. This is their dinner, after all. Grunting, he picks up the stool he was sitting on, shaking off the climbing crustaceans trying to get a grip, and waves it menacingly at the crabs, wielding it like a four-pronged poker.  The crabs give him space in response, clearing a circle around him, but that’s all they do– they simply move around him. Clearly, this isn’t working.  Right, he needs something he can actually swipe with. Noting the broom at the far corner of the classroom, he begins to lope towards it, brandishing the stool as he goes. A dull crack makes him blink, and he looks around his stool to realize that a particularly aggressive crab has flung itself at him, only blocked by the stool.  He frowns. That is more intelligent than he’d thought they’d be. Regardless, the broom is now in his grasp. A moment of consideration, and he decides to keep the chair, turning it over and looping his forearm through the bars to wield it like a makeshift shield.  Another yelp, and Ike turns around. Right, the student. He can’t just leave him there… Ah, right, there was a dustpan with the broom.  “Hey, uh… Plum guy! Catch!”  Ike hollers, tossing the dustpan at the crab-encrusted table. 

Plum was a new one. Usually it was grape, sometimes the worst it got was prune from his younger siblings. Lorenz stared blankly as ike lobbed a lobster at him. “Plum?!” he repeatedd, mouth open to continue shouting when the crustacean made landfall, smacking him in the chest.

“Erguh!” Lorenz reflexively caught the crab, wincing as the sharp points of its shell, joints, and claws dug into him even through his clothing. Lorenz scowled, looking around them. There must be something magical about this, he reasserted to himself. Ike beat him to the broom, so Lorenz improvised as he tried to kick the swarm of crabs around his feet like soccer balls as he held the one in his hands high above his head.

“We can’t kill them... they’re our food...” Lorenz sadly didn’t think a Fire spell indoors was the answer. Even with his inexperience in the kitchen, he knew cooking crab that was any amount of old, even by minutes, would result in poor taste. He ran to the doorway leading outside, kicking up crabs in his wake. He slammed it shut with his hips, mind racing. What an unexpected problem. It couldn’’t be solved with sheer force alone.

Ike didn’t seem like a mage, but there was no harm in asking. “You don’t know any ice spells, do you? Freezing them would halt their warpath and preserve them for dinner.”

* ✶ ⋮ arts and rafts!

a quiet titter leaves linhardt’s lips at hilda’s outburst, a smirk lightly teasing the edge of his lips.  it’s a devilish streak that the young heir has, riling up his friends for nothing but fun. ignatz saves their team from dipping to the worst, offering himself to advance their artistic endeavors beyond a blank hull. he sketches his concepts out and, with his other two teammates focused upon the archer’s artistic talent, the hevring boy inches away from the group.

linhardt finds a new home within the bow seat, gangly legs crossed as he leans a bit forward to take a glance at ignatz’s ideas. the drafts come as a mild surprise to linhardt– though, he supposes ignatz having skills within the arts makes sense. for all he knows of his housemate, he isn’t too remarkable as a soldier.

“he certainly does hold an affinity within the arts,” linhardt agrees with his peers compliments, a passive muse as his head tilts to the side, “though, the addition of a cethleann crest within the alliance…” the hevring boy realizes, perhaps ignatz had made that addition to the preliminary sketch to include him, though linhardt finds little reason as to why. he only landed within the golden deer because of an error, it isn’t as if he’s anything more than an interloper.

“i agree.” if they’re portraying the golden deer beyond leicester’s history, linhardt finds he has little say and interest in the matter. “i believe that’s why we’re in teams, lorenz. anyhow, it appears that everyone has enough material to advance forward, so…” linhardt’s words trail into a yawn, “wake me up when it’s time to critique.” @disinclinedknight​

Wake me up when it’s time to critique. Oh, Lorenz longed to be the one who uttered that phrase. Even while awake, the following sequence of events was so surreal he might as well have woke up only to critique.

After such a back and forth between those who were only interested in planning, the actual workers took over- without a clear plan in his eyes. Lorenz tried to direct, reminding people that they were in fact building a boat, but what unfolded was something remarkable— and that was mostly because their boat now had the literal ability to unfold. He did as he was told here and there by the mechanical masterminds of the House with imaginations that went beyond what was traditionally called a boat. His magic aided the construction wherever needed, and when he stepped back it was a success, probably.

“I can’t believe this contraption floats.” Lorenz scratched his head, looking at the boat golem- no, gundam. What was a gun? He knew what a dam was. He assumed this boat was more gun than dam. He was highly out of his depth.

Still, this was their team spirit coming together as one House! Lorenz drew himself up proudly.

nobletoatea​:

Horse Ducklings [Hilda & Lorenz]

Hilda happened to be passing nearby the stables on her way to the dining hall when she heard Lorenz scolding someone. Demanding someone do as he say? That was a bit much even for him. Usually he had more tact than that. There was no way she could walk by without taking a little peek to see what exactly was going on. She never could resist the opportunity to learn some new gossip.

She couldn’t have picked a better time to peer through the stable door. Just as she poked her head in, a sweet little pegasus foal licked Lorenz right in the face. That certainly solved the mystery of who he was forcing his demands upon. Hilda giggled and it quickly turned into full blown laughter.

“Looks like you’ve got a little friend there, Lorenz,” she teased and walked over to pluck a few stray feathers from his hair.

Lorenz didn’t have anything against the pegasi, or horse foals in general, but he did make a face as Hilda laughed. To his horror, the tips of his ears were turning a shade of red too. It was the vicious cycle of being embarrassed- the initial feeling only sparked more embarrassment like fanning a fire. “I- listen,” he said weakly, caught flat footed again by the foal as it nosed his hair.

For every feather Hilda plucked off of him, he was probably being shed on more by the foal. He patted the foal’s neck, groaning a bit and willing his face to go back to its standard pallor. “They’re temperamental things, I just need to get this halter on...”

Practical Magic [Hubert & Lorenz]

Hubert had never been in the habit of attending seminars - or any sort of school-run event, for that matter - without his liege, and most certainly not alone. A number had been enticing, but ultimately his duty to Edelgard came first. And he had always found it a more efficient use of his time to stay up a few hours later, after Edelgard had gone to bed, to read books on the same topic. His impressive reading speed was a testament to the years passed, as were the seemingly permanent rings ever-present beneath his eyes.

Hands-on crafts posed a different challenge, however. He couldn’t simply read about certain topics, much to his displeasure. Sigil experimentation required a mentor’s guidance and several arcane ingredients almost impossible to find in an ordinary market, so when news reached him of the seminar to be held on just that topic, it was enough for him to clear his entire day’s schedule.

Dark magic remained a mystery, even to those who wielded it. Its casting had a more mathematical quality to it than the already formula-based anima spells, although it was also twice as unpredictable. Hubert had encountered a handful of variations of the same spell, yet each bore the same name. What made them different? But more importantly, what made them the same? The answer had to be in the formulae that brought them into existence, and he wouldn’t be satisfied with an explanation until he could experiment with them himself.

Head bowed as he stood next to a small table laid with tools, he was beginning to thumb through one of his old textbooks when a voice addressed him by name. He glanced up, curiosity flashing briefly through his eyes before the usual shadows overtook them.

“Likewise,” he answered Lorenz’s introduction with cold formality. The other student’s reputation preceded him, and Hubert was well-acquainted with House Gloucester’s importance to the Alliance. But that was where his familiarity stopped. Beyond that point, there was nothing of importance to Edelgard.

But if she had been with him, he might have positioned himself between the two.

“That seems a sensible enough reason for me to assist you.” The flash of curiosity had once more lighted in his eyes, and he glanced down toward the book in his hand. “I had plans to dissect the formulae of a few dark spells, but I would not turn away another practiced mage’s insight.”

Lorenz nodded. That was a rational approach, to pick apart the mysteries already presented to them in order to be able to craft their own. “That is a logical approach. Elemental magic is more my forte, however. I myself have yet to cast dark spells, but the experience and study of such is welcome.”

Truthfully, dark magic was a bit intimidating. Lorenz still wouldn’t rule it out, but it had such a tainted reputation despite just being a tool. As best he could tell his own relic would still serve to amplify it just as well as anima. If the hero’s relic would lend itself to a master of any school or branch of magic, then Lorenz shouldn’t limit himself either.

He glanced at Hubert’s book, eyes tracing over the sigils himself. He tried to recall how anima looked by comparison. “One moment.” He gathered up his own papers and utensils, setting his workspace up adjacent to Hubert’s. They barely knew each other, but this could still shape up to be an interesting session. Fun, some might say, though serious in appearance. Puzzles, formulae, and looking at how their own abilities ticked was something a mage had to enjoy doing.

Lorenz made a rough sketch of the first anima spell he could think of, Fire. “Dark spells are even shaped differently than anima,” he mused, sliding the paper over. “No doubt you know this already, but most anima is rather the same. Tiangular symmetry within a circle, with a smaller circle on each of the triangle’s sides. From what I see on your pages, the shapes branch out more and don’t hold to such a rigid framework.”

nobletoatea​:

Support Mains Needed [F!Morgan & Lorenz]

Morgan was a little more than peeved. She had asked the faculty to put her on the latest mission since she felt it would require more than they planned for, but if anything she was ignored. She knew how it was a strategic failure and ended up getting a lot of students injured.

When she heard the reports she knew her gut instinct was right, but being patient was something father did try to teach her. She’d offer help next time but what more could she do?

As she walked the halls she was greeted by a familiar pompous voice. Though it was more stern, commanding, and serious. Still not matching the owner’s hair in Morgan’s eyes.

Then Lorenz gave Morgan an order to follow and help. In a way, she felt… guilty? Or at least self conscious.

She had recently learned white magic, but only learned how to siphon an enemy’s vitality into her own. Yet Lorenz was here, asking for aid Morgan likely couldn’t provide. Perhaps she should have learned to heal? It would be quite the obvious tactic too, though something deep inside her focused on self preservation…

She trotted behind him none the less, perhaps she could use the first aid she learned on the battlefield to help at least. Or at least help command the room into efficiency?

“I’m not sure giving your patients a Thoron would be considered helpful, but you’re the boss. Tell me who to provide this thoron based community service to.” Morgan replied, clearly not preparing the spell.

Lorenz glanced behind him as though to make sure she really wasn’t going to cast Thoron. He wasn’t prone to that sort of humor even when relaxed, as classmates who may call him stuffy or snobby could attest to. “Tell me you’ve learned at least some faith magic,” he said, trying to keep the pleading in his voice to a minimum.

However, this was a school, and it was for learning. He could fault staff if they didn’t know what they were doing, but not another student.

An injured soldier was waiting by his station in the infirmary and Lorenz quickly pulled Morgan over. “Here, do you know how to diagnose an injury? Magic certainly helps heal in a pinch, but knowing basic anatomy is important too.” The soldier was resting with their leg up and boot off. Lorenz could already see swelling at the ankle under a sock. “Can you put weight on it?” he asked. The soldier shook their head.

Lorenz turned to Morgan and nodded to himself. “That’s usually the difference between a break and a sprain- sprains you can limp on, although it might tear the ligaments, while a break or fracture won’t tolerate any weight at all.” He glanced around and pulled down a basic faith book, finding the simple diagram for a Heal spell. “I’ll demonstrate, but take a good look at that. If you’ve studied enough Reason, it should be easy.”