storied hearts

She glances at Alisha quietly, then simply nods. ❛  And don't forget: you also have to master the Squirrelcarena, fluffy version. However, I am merciful enough to only request for you perform them one at a time.  ❜

It's as close as she can get to indicating that she is willing to wait for Alisha to talk if she needs someone to listen. Maybe if Lailah or Rose were here, they'd get the point across much more easier than Edna on her own. She's seen Sorey have the same troubled look on his face before, even if he tries to hide it. This is no different with Alisha, but like usual, Edna struggles to show open support. No doubt, Zaveid would add stupid, unnecessary commentary about it again if he knew.

❛  The tea your maids served last time was a pleasant blend,  ❜ she commends, nodding, ❛  so maybe some cake would go well with it.  ❜ Dessert is a good pick-me-up. She thinks Alisha could use some sugar right now. ❛  I'm not picky with the kind, so feel free to surprise me.  ❜

Her nose scrunches at the mention of the council. Lailah told her some things about them. Dummies. Dum-dums. Idiots. 

(The books in the palace and even Marlind's library had provided little on these ancient rites, but that would not deter Alisha in her search!"

Alisha had needed that journey with Rose to understand the connection between Edna's words and the true meaning behind them for although the seraph spoke little when in larger company each murmured thought mattered; even more so, when they were said with a bitter quip of carefree comment.

While Rose slept she, Lailah, and Edna had spoken at length about the end of the shepherd’s journey and although Edna brushed aside Symonne and her devotion to “Kittybeard” she knew the final fight with Heldalf, among many other things Alisha would likely never know, still stayed fresh in her and the others’ minds.

It seemed only right that Alisha could give them all a place of rest for the times they visited her as in her mind it was only returning the great gift they had given her on settling the matter of her would-be self.

Still, it was the future that worried her – ever changing, and yet echoes of old mistakes remained even after the Tiamat battle. (It would be nice to sit around a table with Rose, the seraphim, and Sir Sergei one day to hear all their thoughts but for now it was just a dream).

“It is... a fragile process,” Alisha begins, turning from the fruit stalls to where she can smell some of the lighter pastries. “Bartlow’s group is split on the matter. Some think that allying themselves with Breunor will give them the power they’ve so wanted.”

The last bit is whispered, and Alisha remains quiet for a moment except to ask here and there about the ingredients of each confection on display. Her eyes land on an almond cake drizzled in caramel and she raises her eyebrows at Edna.

"Oof. If a polite kid like you can say that, suppose it's probably true."

He cheers up easily enough though, crossing his arms in a not so subtle attempt at showing off his tattoos.

however,  what  kratos  did  not  expect  to  see  was  a  certain  pink-haired  young  women  who  was  so  much  like  and  unlike  himself.  a  body  that  is  young  seeming  but  a  mind  that  was  very  old.  presea  was  someone  that  he  never  spoke  much  with  during  the  journey  but  other  than  the  chosen—no,  colette  and  his  son,  lloyd.  but,  did  he  really  speak  to  others  in  the  group  much  at  all?  but  mayhap  he  should’ve  (  after  his  truth  was  brought  to  light  /  after  his  betrayal  ):  this  makeshift  home  mixed  with  workshop  was  the  birthing  ground  to  their  shared  tragedy  (  granted,  all  was  a  result  of  his  prior  cowardice  ):  for  kratos  it  was  also  the  genesis  of  him  trying  to  right  the  mistakes  of  yesteryear.  the  fragmented  pieces  the  former  seraphim  was  desperately  trying  to  once  again  fit  back  together.

❝  presea,  you  have  been  well  i  hope. ❞  the  vernacular  rolls  off  his  tongue  like  blood  fell  from  the  mouth  of  a  hunters  first  kill—sloppy  and  with  no  real  care.  one  might  even  say  his  words  tasted  as  long  gone  babylon  from  his  lips  to  the  wind.  awaited  retribution  needed  to  be  finished  on  aselia  before  kratos  would  depart  on  derris-kharlan  (  even  he  doubted  he’d  ever  once  again  walk  amongst  the  same  soil  of  his  love  and  his  blood  ):  what  better  place  to  start  than  with  someone  that  was  affected  oh  so  devastatingly  by  his  actions.

❝  how  can  one  hope  to  correct  infractions  if  they  do  not  begin  where  they  began? ❞  her  voice  is  as  a  soulless  chosen  upon  the  great  seed’s  zephyr.  he  deserves  the  detachment  and  the  emotionless  courtesy  that  kratos  knows  she  is  only  showing  out  of  happenstance  and  not  from  duty.  his  purpose  to  the  group  was  over  with,  one  of  his  greatest  joys  and  failures  laid  to  rest  beneath  the  gravel  of  tattered  broken  bodies  and  several  millennia  of  playing  god:  of  toying  with  people’s  lives.  ❝  i  had  business  to  discuss  with  altessa  before  my  departure  with  derris-kharlan. ❞

he  is  hesitant  to  continue,  how  did  one  even  begin  to  fix  what  had  been  shattered  centuries  upon  centuries  ago?  how  does  one  even  begin  to  apologize  (  kratos  knew  best  and  ‘im  sorry’  could  not  and  would  not  fix  everything  ):  however,  he  did  not  expect  to  be  forgiven  nor  did  the  ancient  hero  of  yore  expect  any  sort  of  calmness,  in  fact  if  presea  wanted  to  throw  her  axe  upon  his  flesh  then  he  would  allow  it—it  wasn’t  like  kratos  couldn’t  block  out  the  pain  or  heal  faster  than  she  could  damage  him—just  as  he  felt  relief  from  killing  kvar  in  cold  blood  after  over  a  decade  of  sorrow,  if  presea  combatir  choose,  kratos  would  gladly  let  her  scar  and  tear  into  his  flesh  (  like  a  deceived  young  women,  like  a  very  wronged  child  ):  unyet  he  knew  she  could  never  give  into  such  rage,  even  if  they  both  knew  he  deserved  not  the  slightest  of  mercies.

❝  i— ❞  but  the  words  catch  in  his  throat  and  he  isn’t  properly  sure  how  to  articulate  them.  one  hand  is  holding  onto  the  doorknob  to  altessa’s  and  the  other  is  metaphorically  grasping  at  the  opportunity  to  properly  bestow  upon  presea—and  by  extension  alicia,  the  repentance  the  sisters  are  long  overdue.  ❝  how  do  the  repairs  in  ozette  fair?  ❞  but  of  course  kratos  knew  exactly  how  the  repairs  where  doing,  he  could  be  on  another  continent  and  if  he  wanted,  could  hone  in  on  such  a  precise  conversion  happening  two  land  masses  away.  it  just  gave  him  a  moment  more  to  best  collect  his  thoughts:  how  to  best  handle  the  tragedy  called  presea  combatir  with  immense  care.

“I have been the same,” she says, “Each day I keep back the monsters of Gaoracchia, I come home to Ozette. I visit Papa’s grave.”

She looks back to Ozette’s horizon as she says this, and then catches the taller man’s eyes once more. She does not know much of emotions but even she can identify the pain there; perhaps another would feel sadness and empathy, but again only curiosity comes to Presea’s mind.

“I do not understand,” she tells him once the next words leave his throat (he has always had difficulty speaking, she remembers. Like each syllable weighs upon him as the trunks of trees once weighed upon her). “This is where I began. But your suffering began long ago, did it not? I assume before Altessa had a house here.”

Something else enters her voice then; because she wants to understand, even if he is one of the Four Kharlan Heroes there is something about Kratos - his absence from the flow of life - that reminds Presea of herself. She was not able to talk to Abyssian before he fell by her hand, and so if she could she would like to speak with Kratos further. Her gaze turns to his hands on Altessa’s door and she tilts her head.

“In any case, there is nothing you need to do for me. I am free of the exsphere, and my next steps are my own. But if you have business with Altessa I would like to hear it”

The two men have made decisions by themselves with little input from others long enough. She thinks that is plain enough to see.

Ludger nods to her offer, sliding out the closest chair and huddling close enough to snag a good look at her book, the illustrious Celestial Record. Though he gets his own surprise when there's a note for him on the table. Don't often catch someone who's prepped to write at a moment's notice. As to not waste any papyrus, he'll flip her note over to write his reply.

Once Shepherd Sorey purifies the world, sure people will be more receptive! Life now is just too turbulent to believe in "fairy tales". And those who DO believe might question why the mighty Seraphim haven't fixed everything.

Members of the Kresniks, who served a Seraphim, still wondered why Lord Innominat found himself content to hide away in such dire times. If a group of the most devout were left wondering, what's there to keep the average person believing? It's sad, but... Ludger can't blame them.

She wonders if this man is a local, and embarrassed at how impolite she has been with skipping introductions, is about to ask when his next question gives her pause. Innominat is not a name she has ever heard before but she knows enough of the ancient language to guess at what it might mean.

Seraph Innominat? She writes, for even without much knowledge of them the words see, too sacred to say aloud. I have not… but the title of this being means something akin to “without name” does it not? There are many symbols in the Celestial Record that are unmarked and unnamed.

The only ones she knew for sure were the mark of the Shepherd and the crest of the Lord Maotelus for those were the ones with the most recent commentary, but she had scanned all of the Celestial Record - even the parts in the Ancient Tongue she could only vaguely stumble through in understanding.

“Is that the name of one of the five lords? They are mentioned but never by name in this edition,” Alisha says, whispering despite the fact they are the only two so intent on this conversation, and as she does so she moves herself and the book closer to the man as she tries to find the right page.

“There are several crests I thought might belong to one… but I have had little guidance on the matter.” She could hardly ask one of the newly instated lord of lands after all, already so busy as they were!

D-7 days until applications open! The crests of Innominat and Maotelus sure do look similar.  

Kiss on the forehead: Parental/Familial love

Kiss on the eyelids: You make me sad/Upset

Kiss on the nose: You make me happy

Kiss on the cheek: Platonic love/Friendship/Attraction

Kiss on the lips: Romantic love/Attraction

Kiss on the neck: I want you/You are mine

Kiss over the heart: I am connected to you

Kiss over the wrist: I think you are beautiful/I find you attractive

Kiss over the back of the hand: Respect/Admiration/Reverence

Kiss on the palm of the hand: I am yours/I know you have me

Kiss on the knuckles: Protectiveness

Kiss on the fingertips: I care about you

Kiss on the nails: I want to hurt you/You've hurt me

Kiss on the stomach: Sexual attraction/Desire

Kiss on the knees: I want to support you

Kiss on the feet: Fealty/Loyalty/Servitude/Submission

Almost kiss: Interest/Curiosity

No kiss: Indifference/I don’t know you

send one for my muse's reaction!