Loving Hoshido and Nohr

schoolingcorrin​:

“Do you have some interesting books you could recommend me on the subject,” the other man asks Corrin while leaning forward on his desk. In response the prince takes a step away from the desk, crossing his arms as he does so.

“I’m still looking into it myself so I don’t have a lot of books on the subject. None I can recommend anyways.” He tilts his head as the rest of Azelle’s words sink in. If dark magic is something his homeland associates with a cult then… “May I ask why you’re interested if dark magic isn’t looked upon favorably where you come from?”

He initially ignores the question about his motivations for studying dark magic, instead clutching the book more tightly to himself. Considering the associations dark magic has where the other man comes from, his questions feel more sinister than they would otherwise.

“I’d rather not discuss that yet. Maybe in the future,” is all Corrin can bring himself to say in reponse.

Corrin’s words prompt the initial smile to wane from Azelle’s face. It would perhaps appear that the Mage has crossed some sort of line that the librarian would rather not breach, and the Velthomer’s reaction is instinctive. “Oh… Yes, of course. I’m sorry– I did not realize you would rather I don’t ask”, he says quickly, shaking his head.

He casts a glance at the book in the other man’s arms, then at his own as he considers the question. “Well… It is true that in Jugdral, Dark magic is largely associated with… an evil cult, to put it bluntly. But that is not the case in many other countries, including Fodlan”, he explains. “There are teachers and students alike around here who use Dark magic… and are perfectly normal, good people. I cannot judge them with the same criteria used for Dark magic users in my homeland.”

A slightly nervous chuckle escapes him. “Besides… the Academy is within its rights to expect Dark magic knowledge and seminars from me, so I should try to broaden my horizons.”

making-dough​:

…

“Nice to meet you. I’m Corrin,” Corrin replies as he takes hold of Farina’s outstretched hand from his spot on the ground and gives it a shake. When she stares into his eyes briefly he begins to shift uncomfortably back and forth.

“Can you lend me a hand here? This gal’s refusing to stay still,” his new partner says as the pegasus began to buck and toss wildly once again.

Corrin let go of Farina’s hand once the foal started acting up again and, being sure not to get too close, moved to stand in front of the pair of animal and rider. 

Keeping within seeing distance of the pegasi, he sought out her wings. “Hold on a second,” he called up to the flight instructor as, making sure to avoid the creature’s legs he slowly approached the bucking animal. Pressing himself to her side, he began to gently stroke her wings.

He, of course, ends up getting roughed up by the horse’s bucking even as she slowly began to relax.

♠  ~ Whoever this Corrin was turning out to be, he certainly knew his way around foals. Even that tiny spot right underneath their wings that they absolutely just loved being scratched at. Perhaps he’s handled pegasi before? That was odd by itself. Pegasi were infamous for being skittish around men. Well, at least, that was the way it was back home in Ilia. Who knew with these breeds here? Perhaps, it wasn’t odd at all that Corrin was proving to be able to handle Snowflake here. It certainly beat the wrestling match she was nearly tempted to attempt.

Stepping lightly around as Corrin moved forward to try to calm the foal, Farina watched for a brief moment as Corrin’s gentle stroking slowly calmed the restless foal down. Well, as odd as it seemed to her eyes, she believed in striking while the iron was hot. Stepping quietly to the side, the mercenary picked up a nearby bucket of water with both hands, eager to give the foal a nice, warm soaking.

As if sensing the approach of her incoming involuntary bath, the pegasus’ ears flicked up and suddenly, it was mayhem. Wild neighs and kicks lashed out as the pegasus thrashed about. And, of course, being so close to the thrashing foal, that white-haired fool got roughed up and knocked back by the foal’s wild kicks. 

Taking one hand off the bucket she was holding, Farina stepped forward and swiftly caught Corrin with one arm as he was forced back, taking a single step backwards herself to stabilise. Flashing him a quick cheeky grin, the mercenary drawled out. “Whoa, buddy! Bit off a bit more than you could chew there, did ya?” Well, she had to commend him on the effort. It wasn’t everyday that you saw a guy being able to handle a foal. She might have to appraise him higher than the near luggage most guys back home in Ilia had been proving. 

Fixing eyes on the now-wary foal, that was, by now, pawing heavily on the ground with one hoof, as if daring her to even approach with that bucket, Farina scrunched up her face into a disgruntled frown. “Yeah, you see my problem now? This girl’s reeally not wanting that bath. Any ideas there, smart guy?” Seriously, what was wrong with the foal? Her normally white coat was absolutely spotted with dirt. Why was she so eager to avoid that bath she so desperately needed anyway?

And then the foal began to throw a fit once more. Wings spread out and shwe began to make loud sounds of distress. In her panic she began to kick wildly, one kick hitting Corrin and knocking him back.  Thankfully his clothing was enough to soften the blow and the feeling of his partner wrapping an arm around him was enough to help keep him steady on his feet.

“Whoa, buddy! Bit off a bit more than you could chew there, did ya,” she asked while flashing him a grin. His cheeks darkened into a blush as he nodded, heart pounding half in fear of the foal and half in thankfulness as he looked back towards her. 

Corrin nods vigorously with a smile when Mitama praises him for his intentions to make casting spells easier. It’s good to know that someone thinks he’s on the right track, given that he’s new to crafting his own glyphs.

As he listens to the student speak, he decides to add some sketches of wind to entwine the shards of ice on the page in front of him. “Sadly that charm is wearing with age, and I am hoping that I will be able to recreate one so that I need not worry about its power waning,” she explains of her intentions after telling him of a charm that was meant to block out sound.

He shifts his eyes towards her in thought. A charm like that, while useful, sounds like it could be dangerous for its owner as well. He decides to keep it to himself though. If she’s making another one then she’s probably aware of the dangers it poses herself.

“That sounds like it could be useful. Have you considered finding a way for it to regain some of its power over time?”

Corrin remains silent and Mitama assumes their conversation is petering to an end. The thought does not bother her. She has always been one to spend time working on her own, and the thought of simply working in silence with someone whose company she does not mind is an ideal to her.

Her mind drifts back to her careful work. So enraptured in it, she is nearly surprised when Corrin speaks again. Her head jerks slightly, but thankfully her hands remain steady and her glyph remains certain. She lets out a relieved sigh.

“I considered that alternative as well.” She admitted, placing her quill down to the side. She lifts her work and inspects it carefully, looking for any potential flaws or slips that may render it inactive. She can see none, and thus is satisfied in her effort for now. “Unfortunately the brand of magic that is used in its creation is not one that I am too familiar with myself. I fear only one as talented as my dear friend would be able to masterfully remedy the forces of time, but I am not familiar enough with those present at the academy to determine who would thrive with such a task.”

“Mm. Have you considered contacting your friend for help or asking Lady Rhea to contact someone for you,” he asked while adding more ink to the page. Shifting his hands, he works to darken the color of the ice, taking care not to spill ink on the page.

schoolingcorrin​:

Corrin hums softly in response to Azelle’s explanation for the emptiness of the room. He supposed it made more sense to follow up on a recent test so that would explain why the professor wasn’t getting much attention.

“Do you have interest in the dark arts, or is it simply an interesting read,” the other man asked with a tilt of his head. With a shake of this head, corrin opens the book and begins to flip quickly through the pages.

“I’m more interested in the influence dark arts have on their surroundings,” he says as he drums his fingers on the back of the book. “It’s actually the reason I’ve taken up a job in the library here.”

He looks at the title of Azelle’s book, nodding as he listens to the professor explain his interest in history. Maybe he has some ties to nobility? He’d have to ask the man at a later time.

“Huh? I see”, he responds, a slight head tilt to accompany the words. “That’s very interesting. There is very little research of dark magic in my homeland, what with it being mostly associated with an, uh, evil cult–” he chuckles nervously “–so I don’t know much about that type of spells at all. Do you have some interesting books you could recommend for me on the subject?” He leans forward on his desk, a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

He offers Corrin a more open, friendly smile. It feels refreshing to speak of his passions and interests without fear of overstepping or judgment on the other person’s part, and though the mere thought of dark magic instills a hint of fear in his mind, he thinks that perhaps it may be time to expand his horizons beyond that worldview, which for all intents and purposes is probably very narrow.

“I’m still looking into it myself so I don’t have a lot of books on the subject. None I can recommend anyways.” He tilts his head as the rest of Azelle’s words sink in. If dark magic is something his homeland associates with a cult then... “May I ask why you’re interested if dark magic isn’t looked upon favorably where you come from?”

He initially ignores the question about his motivations for studying dark magic, instead clutching the book more tightly to himself. Considering the associations dark magic has where the other man comes from, his questions feel more sinister than they would otherwise.

Send in a word for a drabble of our muses based on it.

Sonder: The realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own.

Opia: The ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable.

Monachopsis: The subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place.

Énouement: The bittersweetness of having arrived in the future, seeing how things turn out, but not being able to tell your past self.

Vellichor: The strange wistfulness of used bookshops.

Rubatosis: The unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat.

Kenopsia: The eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that is usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet.

Mauerbauertraurigkeit: The inexplicable urge to push people away, even close friends who you really like.

Jouska: A hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head.

Chrysalism: The amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm.

Vemödalen: The frustration of photographic something amazing when thousands of identical photos already exist.

Anecdoche: A conversation in which everyone is talking, but nobody is listening

Ellipsism: A sadness that you’ll never be able to know how history will turn out.

Kuebiko: A state of exhaustion inspired by acts of senseless violence.

Lachesism: The desire to be struck by disaster – to survive a plane crash, or to lose everything in a fire.

Exulansis: The tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it.

Adronitis: Frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone.

Rückkehrunruhe: The feeling of returning home after an immersive trip only to find it fading rapidly from your awareness.

Nodus Tollens: The realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore.

Onism: The frustration of being stuck in just one body, that inhabits only one place at a time.

Liberosis: The desire to care less about things.

Altschmerz: Weariness with the same old issues that you’ve always had – the same boring flaws and anxieties that you’ve been gnawing on for years.

“I’m sorry,” Corrin tells Mitama when he notices her spill her ink as he lowers himself into a seat next to her. He hadn’t expected to startle her though if he thinks about it she did seem to be lost in thoughts. 

“By all means, feel free. I am powerless to stop you if that is what you truly wish to do,” isn’t exactly the friendliest invitation but it’s one he accepts without complaint as he places his own paper before him and reaches for some of the ink provided for the workshop. He doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary with his new tablemate and when she inquires about his goals he shifts his paper so that she can see it.

“I’m trying to find a way to cast Fimbulvetr as well as a few other spells so that I don’t have to rely on my staff as much. It’s not coming along well though,” he responds. He adds more ink to the page and draws more crude shards of ice as he watches Mitama work out of the corner of his eyes.

“What kind of glyphs are you working on yourself?”

Mitama hums thoughtfully as she looks over the paper. A simple usage, accelerating what one already has access to. She sees the convenience in it, and it certainly would be useful in scenarios where one found oneself in dire need of a quick spell. This, of course, would depending on the user remembering to carry such a glyph around with them to cast that but Mitama can admire the incentive.

“There is logic to that. After all, the art of magic itself takes much study just to find what we are already capable of doing. Finding ways to circumvent the existing process will certainly take longer and thorough investigations.” One could simply not expect years of progress in the course of an afternoon.

Her gaze returns to her own work and she resumes the inking process. The symbol itself is fairly simple, but its significance remains in its precision. 

As he listens to the student speak, he decides to add some sketches of wind to entwine the shards of ice on the page in front of him. “Sadly that charm is wearing with age, and I am hoping that I will be able to recreate one so that I need not worry about its power waning,” she explains of her intentions after telling him of a charm that was meant to block out sound.

He shifts his eyes towards her in thought. A charm like that, while useful, sounds like it could be dangerous for its owner as well. He decides to keep it to himself though. If she’s making another one then she’s probably aware of the dangers it poses herself.

Morgan was…. of course on the search for the perfect Apple Cider. Last year she had traveled to that place with the big turtles and did some… interrogations in the tavern. Big burly guy named Ed, her body guard who was absolutely garbage at playing the tough guy, and of course…. a pint of the best apple juice out there.

She did quite like that apple juice she had gotten at that tavern one time. And when Morgan heard rumors of a tavern near by students weren’t supposed to go to, where else would she go for her near search in apple juice products?

It wasn’t until recently she learned they had only given her the apple juice due to her age. It wasn’t a normal thing at the bar. Usually ciders were but…. now Morgan knew what she was looking for. Apple Cider…..

It was slightly alcoholic, and older children tended to enjoy it. From what she heard at least. Garreg Mach sold some, but she could only assume this secret tavern would have… the best stuff. If it was something like wine though she’d be extremely disappointed.

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure where this tavern was which is why he had his staff clutched to his side. As he walked, he kept an eye out for a figure he’d seen sneaking through the crowd. He’d noticed them leaving the monastery though if asked he couldn’t say for certain who they were.  He hoped they were going to the same place though he supposed it was possible they had other reasons for sneaking out.

Her stomach began to churn and she turned around rapidly. An unfortunate sick feeling she got with people like Celica, but not as strong. Still, stronger than individuals like Hilda. Was she about to be attacked?

She turned around and loudly said “poof” before slinking into the night and hiding behind a near by light pole. When she turned back around she saw it was no one other than the librarian Corrin. Or at least those were the notes she was able to gather. Sure he made her stomach not feel good but she actually didn’t see him to be a real threat.

“Oh it’s just you.” Morgan replied stepping out from her clear and obvious hiding space.

“Almost scared me there. Thought my grades would be affected for a moment.” Morgan replied before realizing a special thing. This man was a librarian! Could he get her access to all the dirt on the church? Probably not…. but hey pipe dreams and all that right? Tonight aged befriend him in a completely and totally normal way, and in the future she’d have infinite access to forbidden knowledge. Well probably not the latter.

“Oh it’s just you,” weren’t quite comforting words to hear from anyone, much less a student, as she approached him. With a frown he eyed the girl up and down as she went on to reassure herself. Her ability to act as a guide to the secret tavern was becoming more questionable, though he supposed that as a member of the staff he couldn’t leave her on her own to get up to trouble.

“What...do I call you? Just Corrin right? Do you prefer Mr.? You’re not a Professor so...,” she continued as she gave him a look over of her own. He let out a huff as he settled on a response.

schoolingcorrin​:

“Hello. How may I help?”

The other man broke the silence as he straightened up and closed the book Corrin hadn’t noticed upon his arrival.

“Hi. I was just curious since this room seemed to be quieter than the others,” Corrin replied in a rushed voice as he shook his head vigorously back and forth.

He held up his own book as he stood awkwardly before the other man. He briefly considered introducing himself but given that the other man hadn’t and he’d fallen into conversation with him he decided it might be best to save that for when they parted.

“What are you reading? I’m reading up on curses myself, though I’m not sure it’s very helpful.” 

The cover on the book reads A Brief Introduction to Nonhuman Curses.

“Oh, yeah.” Azelle nods, unsurprised that the other man made the same observation he did. “Professor Hanneman held a test today that apparently left quite a few students stumped, so it looks like he’s receiving most of the attention today.” He stifles a sigh as he remembers that this will most likely be him next week.

The conversation shifts quickly to the topic of books, and Azelle’s face lights up. Perhaps, if his memory serves him right and this man really does work in the library, he could get some interesting recommendations. Even he will eventually run out of things to read in his room, and though he has nothing against refreshing old knowledge, acquiring new ones will never not be important.

“Curses, huh?…” The redhead tilts his head. “Do you have interest in the dark arts, or is it simply an interesting read?” How peculiar. Maybe he should check it out later, too. Though he may have… negative experiences with such practices to say the least, he is aware how essential expanding one’s horizons is.

“I’ve been studying the history of the Crests and the Elites who originally bore them”, he then moves on to answering the question asked to him, holding up the book he had been reading so that the title is easy to read.

The Elite Riegan and His Legacy.

“Do you have interest in the dark arts, or is it simply an interesting read,” the other man asked with a tilt of his head. With a shake of this head, corrin opens the book and begins to flip quickly through the pages.

“I’m more interested in the influence dark arts have on their surroundings,” he says as he drums his fingers on the back of the book. “It’s actually the reason I’ve taken up a job in the library here.”

a dagger of the mind

Corrin hurried back into the room where the glyph making workshop was being held, his staff tucked under one arm and a sheet of paper clutched tightly in the other. He’d stepped out of the room to test out the glyph he had worked on out without distracting anyone but try as he might he couldn’t get it to work. It hadn’t gone wrong so much as nothing had happened when he tried to invoke the spell he’d intended the glyph to cast.

Honestly the drawing on the paper was a simple one: a crude circle with a jagged drop of water that was meant to represent ice reaching out from the center. Honestly it could’ve been better but what would anyone expect when he wasn’t an artist?

Trying to remain quiet, Corrin looked around for a table that wasn’t too preoccupied. Eyes alighting on an empty seat in a far corner, he began to make his way over though he couldn’t help but try and sneak a peak at the work of other workshoppers looking to see if any of them had succeeded where he seemed to be failing. 

One participant’s work caught his eye in particular. Compared to others who had signed up for the workshop the book she had in front of her was pretty full. Not that he could make out anything more than that as he passed by her table. 

Pausing in his tracks, he slid into the empty space beside the girl that seemed to be hard at work. “Do you mind if I join you,” he asked in a voice just high enough for her to hear without interrupting the rest of the participants as he sat down his staff.

She had been so carefully working on the lines of the glyph that the sudden voice startled her. The flinch was slight, but enough all the same to send ink drops splattering across the page before her. Mitama let out a slow, disappointed sigh before crossing out the failed creation. Perhaps for the best for that one.

“By all means, feel free. I am powerless to stop you if that is what you truly wish to do.” The comment is half hearted as Mitama focuses instead on wiping stray ink from her fingers. It is only after they have done so that Mitama bothers to look up at the person in question. She pauses in surprise. Corrin?

Mitama lets out a hum of acknowledgement before turning back to her work. Oh the surprises you’ll see when you venture out into the world, it seemed. “So, what goals do you strive for with your own work?” Mitama asks absently.

She reaches forward for a fresh paper and pulls it towards her. From the beginning, she supposes. Carefully, she begins to outline the frame of her glyph, taking the time to make sure the lines are steady and bold. She lacks the artistic skill of one of her friends, but she knows better than to rush the creation of such things. No telling what could occur from lackluster work.

“By all means, feel free. I am powerless to stop you if that is what you truly wish to do,” isn’t exactly the friendliest invitation but it’s one he accepts without complaint as he places his own paper before him and reaches for some of the ink provided for the workshop. He doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary with his new tablemate and when she inquires about his goals he shifts his paper so that she can see it.

“I’m trying to find a way to cast Fimbulvetr as well as a few other spells so that I don’t have to rely on my staff as much. It’s not coming along well though,” he responds. He adds more ink to the page and draws more crude shards of ice as he watches Mitama work out of the corner of his eyes.

Morgan was…. of course on the search for the perfect Apple Cider. Last year she had traveled to that place with the big turtles and did some… interrogations in the tavern. Big burly guy named Ed, her body guard who was absolutely garbage at playing the tough guy, and of course…. a pint of the best apple juice out there.

She did quite like that apple juice she had gotten at that tavern one time. And when Morgan heard rumors of a tavern near by students weren’t supposed to go to, where else would she go for her near search in apple juice products?

It wasn’t until recently she learned they had only given her the apple juice due to her age. It wasn’t a normal thing at the bar. Usually ciders were but…. now Morgan knew what she was looking for. Apple Cider…..

It was slightly alcoholic, and older children tended to enjoy it. From what she heard at least. Garreg Mach sold some, but she could only assume this secret tavern would have… the best stuff. If it was something like wine though she’d be extremely disappointed.

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure where this tavern was which is why he had his staff clutched to his side. As he walked, he kept an eye out for a figure he’d seen sneaking through the crowd. He’d noticed them leaving the monastery though if asked he couldn’t say for certain who they were.  He hoped they were going to the same place though he supposed it was possible they had other reasons for sneaking out.

@schoolingcorrin

“All is well Mitama…deep breaths…remain calm and focused and it should be fine…”

The book laid out on the table next to her work was an illegible mess that she doubted anyone would expect from the young poet. Well. Perhaps a mess was to be expected, but not one of the written word variety. But that was what one would find if they were to take a look at Mitama’s notebook: an illegible mess that at times only barely made sense to her herself, with drawings and scribbled out words covering the margins.

It was a reflection, in a way, of Mitama’s own mind as she bit her lip and carefully traced the lines of the glyph before her with her eyes. She was not a fool to think herself beyond the feats of mortal men, but past experience with creating magical artifacts had given her some pause.

Father was not here to remedy her mistakes this time after all.

Mitama let out a slow, exhausted sigh. “I find myself surprised that more practitioners of the darker magic do not drop from the sheer stress of it all.” She grumbled out loud, anxiously swirling her brush between her fingers. This was foolish. It was a seminar! One that she had signed up for. And despite her natural talent for creating cursed magical items, there was no reason to assume it would happen again here and now. She just needed…just a moment.

Honestly the drawing on the paper was a simple one: a crude circle with a jagged drop of water that was meant to represent ice reaching out from the center. Honestly it could’ve been better but what would anyone expect when he wasn’t an artist?

Trying to remain quiet, Corrin looked around for a table that wasn’t too preoccupied. Eyes alighting on an empty seat in a far corner, he began to make his way over though he couldn’t help but try and sneak a peak at the work of other workshoppers looking to see if any of them had succeeded where he seemed to be failing. 

One participant’s work caught his eye in particular. Compared to others who had signed up for the workshop the book she had in front of her was pretty full. Not that he could make out anything more than that as he passed by her table. 

Spring is here, and so are baby pegasi! The pegasus foals are equal parts playful and skittish on their spindly legs, and they need to be trained to be groomed and led early. Their wings are too soft and downy to fly yet, but they’re still cute! [Grants Flying +1]

The stink of animals hit Corrin as he crossed the threshold into the stables. Coughing and covering his nose, he made his way into the room as one of the students in charge of watching over the stables made her way over to him.

“Here to help with the pegasi? I’ll lead you to your partner.”

The student made her way over to one of the stalls, Corrin weaving his way around students and staff in an effort to keep up with her. The student came to the door, checked a piece of paper, and turned to him with a hint of a smile.

“Alright, everything you need should be there already. Water, brushes, et cetera. Let us know if you need anything,” she said as she opened the door and pushed him inside.

Standing in front of the door, Corrin took stock of his partner. A slightly shorter girl with dark blue hair that went to her shoulders and framed her face. A black dress with silver and gold trimming underneath partial blue and silver armor, one hand covered in gloves and a belt around her waist. He recognized her as one of the school’s flight instructors and breathed a sigh of relief as he took in her appearance. 

“Sorry for the interruption.”

“Well, uh, hey there!”, Farina exclaimed with a jovial grin and a dirt-covered hand outstretched for a shake. “You must be my new partner. I’m Farina and this here’s Snowflake.”, she added with a jerking thumb downwards towards the pegasus foal. “You, uh…”, she paused for a moment to stare intently into the stranger’s face for a moment, as if to try to ferret out exactly what his deal is.

He’s clearly not a student here. But neither does he seem to be a teacher. She’d recognised him if he was. Who is he really? Does he work here? “Uh, nevermind.”, she abruptly decided with a shake of her head. Not important. “Can you lend me a hand here? This gal’s refusing to stay still.” There was another fresh round of struggles as filly bucked and tossed as if wanting to somehow shake off her rider. “Oh, c'mon! Stop that! Don’t you want your coat to be all nice and shiny?”, Farina whispered admonishingly down to the foal. Ugh, some kids just don’t want to take a bath at all.

“Can you lend me a hand here? This gal’s refusing to stay still,” his new partner says as the pegasus began to buck and toss wildly once again.

Corrin let go of Farina’s hand once the foal started acting up again and, being sure not to get too close, moved to stand in front of the pair of animal and rider. 

Keeping within seeing distance of the pegasi, he sought out her wings. “Hold on a second,” he called up to the flight instructor as, making sure to avoid the creature’s legs he slowly approached the bucking animal. Pressing himself to her side, he began to gently stroke her wings.

schoolingcorrin​:

Corrin walked through the courtyard, a book in hand. Classes had already let out for the day and both students and staff could be seen milling about from place to place. Even some of the cats that roamed the grounds of the monastery could be seen outside at this time of day.

Climbing a short set of stairs, he trailed his fingers lightly along the wall of the building that housed the classrooms. As he passed by each room, he could hear the faint voices of various students and professors who had stayed behind for one reason or another. Stepping down the hall, he came to a stop at one door in particular.

There wasn’t truly anything special about this door. Like the others, it stood open. However, unlike the other classrooms no sound came from this door.

Poking his head inside the classroom, Corrin took in the sight before him. It was like most of the other classrooms. There were desks going front to back on the far left and right sides of the room with a lone desk and chalkboard sitting front and center. However, unlike the other rooms which had students milling about the only one here was a member of the faculty.

Corrin recognized the man, though he never spoke to him. Short red hair that framed his face and red eyes weren’t themselves special back home but in his brief time since coming to the monastery Corrin thought it was unusual for this continent though it wasn’t a thing he’d been willing to voice.

Stepping into the empty classroom, Corrin made his way over to the professor’s desk where the other man stood with a slight slouch.

Starter for @halfjalar

Lectures are over for the day, but Azelle does not yet move from the classroom. He needs not hurry anywhere, after all; he had begun this fascinating book before his classes, he may as well continue it here and now without wasting time on going back to his room. Not just yet, anyway; at some point, after all, he will have to do so. But in the meantime, he may as well make it through a chapter or two.

The muffled voices from the neighbor rooms do little to distract him; neither does the low number of students that came to him for advice today. Perhaps the lectures of the other Professors simply were more challenging today, is all. Few things bother Azelle more than not being the center of attention. If he is to be offered peace and quiet today, he shall simply take it. More time for the book.

But just as he thinks that, the calm silence of the room is broken by the sound of the door being pushed wider open and the footsteps of someone entering. He looks up to determine the source of the disturbance - and just as he does so, his back painfully reminds him he had been slouching again, so he straightens himself up, stifling a groan in the process.

Before him is a young man he recognizes as one of the librarians; white hair, red eyes almost like his own, and a book in hand. Azelle recalls seeing him at work in passing while scouring the library’s resources, but at the moment the name escapes his memory. He decides to act in a neutral manner and marks the page in his tome with a bookmark before closing it and beginning to speak.

The other man broke the silence as he straightened up and closed the book Corrin hadn’t noticed upon his arrival.

“Hi. I was just curious since this room seemed to be quieter than the others,” Corrin replied in a rushed voice as he shook his head vigorously back and forth.

He held up his own book as he stood awkwardly before the other man. He briefly considered introducing himself but given that the other man hadn’t and he’d fallen into conversation with him he decided it might be best to save that for when they parted.

“What are you reading? I’m reading up on curses myself, though I’m not sure it’s very helpful.” 

schoolingcorrin​:

Corrin hadn’t been in Fodlan for long when word got out about the School of Sorcery’s theory. Normally he wouldn’t have paid the rumors too much mind but when word got out that some of the Monastery were planning to test the theory, he couldn’t help but be interested.

He hadn’t given too much thought to elemental affinity himself, having learned most of his spells in the midst of a war. 

Crossing the threshold into one of the rooms being held for the event, he found himself standing alongside one of the other members of the faculty: a taller women with braided red hair who struck up conversation as they waited.

“I do admit… I’m a tad curious,” she spoke aloud. “I’ve always associated myself with fire, but it would be interesting to know if that was actually true.”

“I’m not sure of my own affinity myself,” he replied as he drummed his fingers on his leg. “I’ve dabbled with bits of fire, thunder, and dark magic but it’d be good to have a more concrete idea…”

Tethys claps her hands once in amazement at the man’s response, “An all-rounder! You must be quite the talented mage.” He’s familiar, but not in name. He’s faculty, she’s sure, but one she hasn’t had the chance to associate herself with. Maybe he’s even one of Ewan’s professors, he he.

She turns to the person now being tested, the mechanism hovered by them. It whirled and made odd sounds, and soon enough, an almost blinding sigil of thunder appears. Tethys was patient in most situations, but she admits, right now, she wanted to be tested immediately and find the answers to her curiosities.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he says in response to her exclamation. “I’ve only studied a small bit.”

When she questions whether its possible to get a result indicating elemental potentials or none, a frown comes to his face. Either option sounded...concerning. Rather than voice his thoughts in that direction, however, he tries to hide it.