N O T O R I O U S

“Just because you’ve ALWAYS been like this, doesn’t mean you have to stay that way. Did you know mother used to dress me in nothing but black? Well clearly I didn’t keep to that and learned to change.” She made a show of showing him her current ensemble. Though it was much easier to change ones sense of style as opposed to their whole personality. On top of the fact the change for her had been so easy. She never did like wearing black and tried as much as she could to keep it out of any clothes she made. Such a dark and gruesome color. Of course her parents would love it as much as they did.

“And trust me, father. I wasn’t hoping for a whole lot to begin with.” She didn’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it did. But in reality, she hardly knew Lon’qu. She could scarcely remember much about her own mother, much less her father. He had died when she was very, very young after all. The only things she knew about him were from what Noire had told her. Seeing as Tharja had so rarely spoken of him after his death. 

Coming back to the past…it had been the first time she’d even seen his face. And it pained her that Noire had even had to point him out to her. So sad that had that not happened, she wouldn’t have known her father at all.

But such thoughts she tried to keep at the back of her mind! She didn’t like to brood like the rest of her family so often did. It made for frown lines and a dour nature. No siree! She’d be the black sheep of their little family. Or in her case, the fashionable sheep.

“You don’t have to change everything, father. Just perhaps a few things here and there. And starting with your attire is the first step. Hmm, with your complexion you might even do well with something pink.”

    An amused huff leaves him when she hears that Tharja used to dress her in all black. Not surprising at all. Tharja had always liked black. In truth, Lon’qu wasn’t sure there were other colors she liked. But he didn’t mind it. He’d never been opposed, and as time went on, he’d grown rather fond of it, often wearing it himself. Perhaps he just liked to be reminded of her, even in that subtle way. 

   “ That doesn’t surprise me ,” he says. But Emilia choosing to change her clothes was a far different hill to tackle. After all, she was still young. Still growing. Still learning how to be her own person and what she wanted to be and wanted out of life. He smiles fondly without quite realizing it. That’s what he wants for her though. To be able to just grow up and come into her own in her own time. Maybe the early years were ravaged by war and the loss of her parents but there’s still time to make up for it. He doesn’t want her to be so scarred and damaged that she grows up far too fast like he and Tharja had to...

    Like Noire had to...the smile fades. 

    He focuses back on the subject at hand. She isn’t wrong. He does need to change in ways. He needs to grow. There are still many weaknesses holding him back. But he isn’t so sure if she is thinking the same things he is. Particularly not if she thinks his clothes are the place to start.

   But pink seems like a bit of a stretch. Lon’qu isn’t one to care about colors or be picky over them, but pastels weren’t really his preference... “ Just don’t dress me like Maribelle ,” he says with a sigh. “ Looking ‘appealing’ to other people won’t mean a damn thing if your mother can’t stand looking at me .” Though if it gave her a laugh, well...he wouldn’t complain about that. It’s a rare sight that he enjoys...even if it’s at his expense. 

“You sure…know a lot of people that are like these stories.” Elise couldn’t help but to answer, her soft smile still on her face. She had to wonder just how many people out there Lucian knew, some pretty strange people it sounded like. But he was a mercenary. And his type were usually wandering all around looking for work and meeting strange characters. Taking a quick coin from anyone that was willing to offer it. At least that’s how she had learned they were like, from her siblings and stories. But Lucian seemed…different. After all, what mercenary who was only there to make some money would go so far to save her life? 

“No. His name isn’t Chrom. The story never really gives him a name.” She flipped through the book, passing by that particular story to instead get to the one about the mage. She still felt uneasy telling it to him, especially if it reminded him of someone he clearly cared about. But she wasn’t going to deny Lucian the story either.

“There are a few about her in here. Which do you wanna hear? Most of them are pretty dark. Camilla didn’t let me read them until I was thirteen.” She flipped through the many stories that were in regards to the mage woman. Slowly listing off the basic plots of each one to let Lucian decide what he wanted.

“There is the one about her befriending a prince and his tactician. Another about her taking on a whole fleet of bad guys by herself. Oh! Well…while it’s a little gruesome and not heroic, there is a story about her and some swordsman taking revenge on some other mage that wronged them both.”

    “ You sure know a lot of stories that are like the people I know .” It’s partially meant as a joke, but also mild skepticism. How could this be a coincidence? He doesn’t believe that Elise is some psychic oracle who is taunting him with such things (and he’s already learned from his encounter back in Hoshido that there were some odd parallels in this world. If a girl could resemble Tharja almost identically...well, why couldn’t a story?). But he still can’t shake how eerie it is that so much of the details line up. 

    Multiple stories, though? No names? And then the specific stories...the first two could be coincidental. But the third...the third on top of everything else. It was far too specific. Too identical to something that had happened between them. Something that had almost driven them apart but in the end brought them closer together. Almost close enough for him to admit his feelings for her....Until he let his cowardice take hold and failed to do it. 

    The shock must show on his face, the way he stares dumbfounded at the book in her hands. Some swordsman...that has to be him...It has to be. 

    What the hell was this place? 

    “ Somehow I...think I know exactly what happens in those ...” But it feels ridiculous to say why. She’d either think he was nuts because the stories actually were different, or she’d think he was lying and had heard the stories before and was just pretending that he hadn’t. 

    “ I’m curious if there are ...” He hesitates...He could be playing a dangerous game here. Stories after that...It could either be a mirror of the disappointing choices he made...Or a slap in the face about what he could have had if he hadn’t been so stupid (or things crashing and burning between them...who can say). But his curiosity prickles at his mind like a wildfire trying to jump across a river. 

Amelia listens to his words, and when he tells her to stop, she simply does. The last vestiges of the facade fade away and all that’s left on her face is a faint grimace, a pained look. As expected, he saw right through it. There was no point in trying to pretend she was fine.

It’s partially because of such she makes no further comment about the concept of ‘heroes’. She knew full-well people would praise them up and down for coming out of that situation alive, but it didn’t feel deserved. It didn’t feel real, even. There’s no reason to mention it, though, not now. No reason the shatter her carefully crafted illusion of a grip on reality even further. 

Heroes were just the brave and the stupid with hearts of gold, and she was none of those things.

And then there it is, the faint line of tension in the room being snapped. The questions she has awaited painfully, and immediately set her skin crawling. A tiny part of her hoped he wouldn’t ask, and put it all out of his mind. He was the last person she wanted to get wrapped up in the disaster the constantly lived with her, but yet here he was, having saved both of their lives somehow.

Here he was wearing physical proof of the fact that he was bound to this fate of hers in one way or another carved right into his chest likely for the rest of his life. The feeling of illness washes over her again, but she simply nods a few times as she listens, and agrees silently. He needed to know now.  When he catches her gaze, she forces herself to meet it in return, even as the promise not to let the secret be known brings her a little relief. She’s certain he sees the trepidation and fear in her eyes, in her face. 

It doesn’t help that her markings follow suit with her emotions, and dim and flicker dully, before matching pace with her heartbeat again. It’s a strange mix.  He wants to understand so he can help her. 

To protect her?

That doesn’t quite make sense fully in her mind, but he already witnessed the monster she became when pushed beyond the breaking point, and she can’t fault him for wanting to understand the madness they had been put through. At the very least, she does, in fact owe him an explanation. Even just the basics of it.

“I suppose after what happened, I should be candid about this. I already trusted you wouldn’t say anything to anyone– I wouldn’t fault you if you never wanted to speak to me again, after what I’m sure you saw.” Acutely aware of how bitter that sounds, it’s her turn to meet his eyes again, and for a second, she sees…sadness? Regret? It only confuses her further, but the bluntly put desire to be able to understand just what she went through is…moving.

 So she lifts a single hand slowly, voice lowered to speak softer in case prying ears might hear and with the free one, points to the intricate markings on her skin. 

“I will tell you a little. Everything loops back to these markings on my skin.”

Then she lets her hands fall, folding them in her lap, but refusing to break her gaze. Now, at the very least, she had to keep eye contact, to be honest, to be straightforward, painful as it was to speak so plainly about the very core of what she despised most. 

“Robin and Chrom are already aware of what they can do and I am given orders in each battle specifically tied to the state my markings are in, to ensure that I, and others, remain as safe as possible. When I joined this army, I laid the truth out plain for them. I’m surprised I wasn’t considered a liability and turned away or killed, if I am speaking plainly.” A tiny, bitter smile creeps onto her face at the memory of their looks of horror as she described in detail who she was, and what she could do. 

As she speaks, her tone turns flat, almost as if she were reading text out of a letter or a book, as if she were taking stock of the things in the supply carts, rather than talking about a life-altering affliction.

“I have had these since I was a baby, but I’m not sure if I was born with them or not. These markings enhance my magical ability to a point beyond mortal limits, and can do many things one would likely consider ‘magical miracles’. In short, they absorb any and all negativity. Minor illness can be cured by my touch. Wounds can heal over just by my hands hovering nearby without the need of a tome or a staff. Even ground that has been desecrated, or people’s negative emotions– all these things fill my markings with this black…energy? Muck? I’m not even sure what it is.  Think of it like a container full of water filling and overflowing until it’s empty again, only to start filling right back up.”

There’s a short, heavy pause, and then she sighs, shoulders slumping inwards, tone turning…melancholy.

“And when they’re full I…I become…someone else. I lose all sense of rationality and black out, as if I’ve fainted, and when I come to, I have wreaked horrible destruction on anything and everything in my path within in the area. From the years I have suffered this strange affliction, I’ve come to understand that all the negativity absorbed by my markings becomes too much for my body to contain, and so it all pours out at once for a brief time, empowering my magical abilities even further, but making me lose my senses. I cannot tell allies from enemies, I just destroy everything I come across. Buildings, people, animals, forests, villages. It doesn’t matter.”

Here, if it was possible, her face grows even more haggard and pained, and she finds she can no longer hold his gaze. It’s painful, laying the truth bare before him like this, even if it wasn’t all of it.

“I only know a little about that cult, but I know when I still lived in Plegia my markings were coveted by the noble and affluent. They are a powerful tool, when used carefully. The unfortunate reality is that even then, if I am careful–” And here she raises her hand once more, focusing her mind on the churning anxiety rising only higher and higher in her chest– and watching the faint purple-black glow in her markings grow higher and higher in her fingertips in real time, “–it is an inevitable outcome I must prepare for. The stress of the situation we were in accelerated the process at a near breakneck pace. And I– I was acting so manic earlier because I was so relieved to see you– you survived that encounter with me when I was so dangerous.”

    He can tell that she’s distraught about the whole situation. And he can’t blame her for it. Had he been in her shoes, he likely would be in a far worse state than she was now. After all, his inability to protect an innocent girl he cared about had scarred him deeply...If he’d rampaged and killed everyone around him, innocent or not, with no control over it?

    To be honest, he’s fairly certain that if he had, he would have followed them into death quickly after. Because unlike her, he’s too weak to live with the guilt. To power through it and work to be better and help people. Suddenly, he feels he understands why she holds herself to such lofty ideals and still thinks so low of herself. And yet...he doesn’t. Because as a third party, he can see that the fault isn’t hers. That it’s a curse, not a mistake. And he doesn’t want her to suffer from it more than she already has. 

   And he recalls what she said so clearly...or rather, what the being possessing her said to him.

We, the weapon, destroy, because that is what we were created for...

  Whatever it was that possessed her, it must have spared him because it saw him as an ally in destruction. He’s not sure what to make of it...Lon’qu is not ignorant to his violent ways or dark thoughts, but he’d always tried to fight for a decent cause...or at least not a cruel one. And in that bloodbath, he had. Clearly, the cultists were evil, were cruel, sought to exploit Amilia and use him as leverage. They deserved death. But that wasn’t exactly all he gave them, was it? He still remembers the feeling of bones breaking in his hands, of blood spattering his face and clothes and he smashed one of their heads against a wall. He could blame it on the venom in his veins from those snakes, yes, but even still...It feels unreal recalling those memories to see, instead of his usual controlled, precise killings...something so feral and animalistic from him. 

    But he listens in silence when she tells him about how her powers work. About how she was born like this. He’s noticed the markings had magical qualities before. Sometimes they would glow faintly, but that had been the first day he’d seen them go black. It’s nice to know that there is at least some visible warning as to when she’s about to turn. 

    Not that he has even the slightest idea how to stop it...

   “ So they see you as a weapon ,” he surmises, nodding as he looks ahead at nothing in particular. It sickens him...that people would take advantage of her for their own uses, as if she wasn’t a person...A person who’d already suffered enough. 

    Amilia clearly has no recollection of what she did or said in detail, only that she killed everyone but him during that turn. She’s surprised that he survived, however. Which does seem odd since she says usually she cannot distinguish between friend or foe. That would imply she should have killed him, too. And easily could have. He could feel the power she held, saw the way she obliterated the cultists with barely a motion. Lon’qu stood right in front of her and she didn’t kill him. Only spoke to him. 

    He wonders if he should tell her what she said...maybe he should. He doesn’t know if it will help, but maybe it could...It’s worth a shot. 

    “ I did. But not because I was able to elude you. Whatever was controlling you could have easily killed me...But it chose not to .” He pauses, trying to remember exactly what was said. Or at least summarize it as accurately as he can. Parts are clear, but others are...hazy. 

   “ I can’t pretend to fully understand why, but it spoke to me...It called itself ‘the Weapon’, and said that ‘my way is pleasing to the gods in the stars’...judging by the rest of what it said, I can only assume it means my own bloodlust and penchant for killing. But it seemed focused on...cleansing the world. On destroying everything so that life can just start over on its own. It said that....I have the same goal ...” 

    He’d never thought about it that way. Was that his ultimate purpose? To destroy all corruption? While part of him would certainly like to rid the world of evil, he’s no idealist in thinking it can be done in entirity, though he continues to do what he can to improve things in...’the only way he knows how’...those words echo in his head in the Weapon’s voice as he thinks them. Even if the entire world were to be eradicated and be reborn from the dust...the same cycle would continue. Corruption would seep its way back into mankind or whatever replaced them. So why did the Weapon think he wanted that? 

    Was the Weapon wrong...or...was Lon’qu blind to his own path? Did he think that way and not realize it? Would he take that path one day? He shudders to think of the possibility. 

“A woman died because of my failings. I would not let it happen again.”

Like, that’s the most clearcut explanation for his fear of being near women you’re gonna find. 

Did he actually look…RELAXED at her threat? She had to admit, she never had gotten that sort of reaction before. Fear, anguish, disgust. All things people had looked at her with when she’d threaten them with a hex. Even her own caretakers had been afraid of her before she ran them out! But never in her life had someone actually seemed at peace when threatened by her. But her surprise at the reaction didn’t last long. In the end it made way for further irritation. 

After all who was that man to have the GALL to not be afraid of her? Did he think his stupid sword would keep him safe from her magic? Pah! It would not! She could already tell he had very little resistance to magic. He’d be like putty in her hands by the end of the day. Then he wouldn’t be so calm!

“You’ve gone BEYOND being able to mend this.” She grumbled. Already trying to think of a plethora of different hexes she could cast upon the other “You may have been hexed before, but not by me. Do you think I won’t be able to have you crying on the floor like some child by the end of the day?”

No one doubted her abilities. No one! Had he not seen the wondrous creatures she had made? The Faceless were her creation! Her magic and hexes were nothing close to child’s play.

   Of course she’s even more agitated...Otherwise it would be too easy for him, wouldn’t it? And nothing was ever easy for Lon’qu (or Lucian, as she believed him to be). Though his intention hadn’t been to insult her...

    Well, he thinks about that a moment longer. Yes, he probably meant to insult her. He’s so used to insulting people it just comes out as second nature...

    But still, he thinks that her reaction is perhaps a bit over the top. Beyond able to mend things? Probably not impossible. But she made it sound less like ‘go away and never speak to me again’ and more like she was going to do everything in her power to get revenge. 

    It’s still unsettling how similar she is to her...

    He doesn’t mean to, but a scoff of a laugh does leave him when she mentioned having him crying on the floor like a child. What kind of weakling did she take him for? She hasn’t the slightest clue what he’s endured in his life. Somehow, he’s beginning to forget about the reason he ever approached her and now he’s simply amused by the challenge she presents. And perhaps he feels a little smug that he’s already thought to thwart her methods to some extent with a false name.

Tharja watched as the other leaned back and stewed in her words. She wouldn’t apologize or offer him pity for being harsh. She said what she had said and she meant it. She didn’t want him looking at her with irritation all because he had agreed to some tattoo that he didn’t really want all to appease her. And if for some reason things did not work out between them, because few things ever did work out for Tharja, she didn’t want him coming back to her parlor one day and throwing a fit over a tattoo he had never wanted.

She continued to watch him as he went about inspecting his arm. The sleeve that she had been told detailed parts of his life. She had even been the one to add to that little mural that made up his sleeve. Was he planning to add to that instead? Well…if so…she’d knew some THOUGHT would have gone into the design at least. Lon’qu would never add something to his sleeve piece unless it meant something to him.

“The sky?”

Tharja questioned with a huff. That still seemed so bland. But she knew not to judge too quickly. Again, she had to remind herself, Lon’qu didn’t just add things to his sleeve piece on a whim. There was always more thought put into it. And a moment later, those thoughts came out and gave her a far clearer picture. One that seemed intensely more interesting. And would most certainly kill time.

She tapped her finger to her chin as she thought it over. Tried to picture the design in her mind. That would most certainly be a lot of ink and a lot of time. She liked it. Such a thing indicated by the small smirk she gave before getting up and going to her desk. Collecting some paper and pens to start drawing up the tattoo.

“You still sound like a college girl.” She couldn’t help but to give a low jab before collecting all she needed “But it is doable. And more dark than what they would want. I’ll need an hour or two to make it up.” Tharja explained before turning back to him “Why a moon?”

    The judgemental tone was back for a moment, but thankfully dissipated when he went into more detail...Even if he’s holding back some essential pieces of information. But still, he’s anxious that she’ll know what it really means and feel weirded out. That he’s moving too fast, or being creepy or attaching too strongly too soon. She was sharp as all hell, there was no way she wouldn’t pick up on it. Maybe not right away, but she would. 

    The playful jab afterward does ease a little of the tension from his shoulders and even gets a single breath of a chuckle from him. At least she knows he’s being serious this time. And she’s willing to do it. But she doesn’t seem suspicious at all of what prompted it, doesn’t seem to make any sort of connection to what this addition means. Or she’s really good at hiding it. Perhaps it didn’t bother her? But in truth, he hadn’t expected no reaction at all. 

    He nods and turns to lay back down on the couch, head propped up on the arm rest as he moves his good arm out to the side to pet the dog. Chow affectionately licks him on the chin in response. But before he can get too comfortable, she asks that question. Lon’qu freezes, mouth clamping shut in response. The question was so direct, so unavoidable. There’s only three options: LIE, which he cannot and will not do, withhold the information, which would just irritate her and likely put them back at square one...or tell the truth. 

  Lon’qu runs his hand back through his mess of dark hair, closing his eyes and letting out a long exhale as he does. Hand over his face, he mutters the response at first, “ It’s you ...” but he immediately realizes how difficult that likely is to hear from her distance. He speaks in a more normal volume as he moves his hand away, eyes staring at the back of the couch by his head.     “ The moon is you .”

    Somehow his voice comes out calm and smooth, even if his stomach is in a knot at the prospect of having to say it out loud when neither one of them were particularly good with words. But his anxiety won’t let him leave it at that. He doesn’t want her to think that he’s using this as a way to trap her into his life. He has to clarify. He’s not a manipulator, and he doesn’t want to manipulate her even by accident.

   “ I don’t mean it in a way of permanence or possession or anything like that...It’s not like tattooing a name. I just ...” His sleeve was just a story of how his life had gone. That was all. And even if the two of them crashed and burned, it would be a lie not to catalog this part of their relationship... He could always add the flames in after. While he has no plans to ever leave her, he’ll always account for the fact that she might one day kick him out of her life.     He continues to stare at the worn fabric of the couch when he speaks. “ Regardless of whether or not you change your mind about me...It’s not going to negate how my life changed when I met you ...” 

WERE HE TO LISTEN TO THE PANIC THAT WAS PULLING AT THE BACK OF HIS MIND, HE WOULD HAVE TURNED AND RAN.  For how long has Felix spent being one to degrade the cowards and the runaways of his own country  ? How much vitriol did he spit in their direction at the mere mention of turning tail and running instead of fighting for something  ? He’s certain now he is no better, and he is certain that everyone he had come to know were murmuring amongst themselves about the disbelief that Felix, of all people, would turn tail and run. It’s only suffocation comes from Lon’qu not daring to treat him like he was in the wrong. Felix had been planning to abandon his position for a long time . . but to have the gall to do so was a completely different mindset. There was no going back now, and he only knew one place to go.

      He does give Noire’s gesture a chuckle of his own, avoiding her as to not knock her over on the short steps to the table. Children are often so entertaining, but it is in fact light-hearted amusement that makes Felix find himself taken with them. They’re innocent, still learning the world and all of its rules, but the world out there could be whatever they would like for it to be. It’s theirs for the taking . . that is, if no one was pulling the strings to make them follow the same path as them and others around them. Nobility was a blessing but such a bigger curse on individuals. But, Felix knows that the poor don’t pity the rich – how could the rich have anything to complain about ? How could having everything you’ve ever wanted handed to you and still be so displeased with your life  ? Felix knows and has known better to complain about his circumstances. There would always be someone out there who would have it worse.

        ❝ I wouldn’t know where else to go, ❞ he admits, diverting his attention briefly to where Noire’s fingers tousle the strings on his arm. He won’t shoo her away, so long as she doesn’t tug on them. For now, she seems fascinated just to view and touch them as gently as she does. And he doesn’t mind. If it keeps her occupied, then he would happily let her bat and twirl them all evening,  ❝ I thought perhaps there was a chance your offer did not expire on me, and that is all I’ve come for. Other than that, I haven’t much for a plan. ❞

      Too much planning and he would have certainly talked himself out of it with the sheer amount of unknowns there would be. It would be a mystery if he could even get across the ocean. It wasn’t for certain he would even be able to find Lon’qu after all these years, let alone be able to take him up on an offer from nine years ago. If he would have enough supplies, if he would even make it out of Fodlan alive. But, if anything, Felix works much better when there is uncertainty, so that he could have the possibility of defying the odds that clearly do stack against him. He has the courage, and now that he has made it, he can sit with his pride, even if he does not show it in any manifestation of himself.

       ❝ If I went anywhere else, it would not be right now. You’ve already offered me a place to stay, but should I overstay my welcome I suppose I would not have a choice but to move on. But . . thus far, Ferox is much like home. So I wouldn’t plan on wandering too far away from it. ❞ 

   Wouldn’t know where else to go...That’s something Lon’qu understands all too well. No matter how many years pass, it’s hard to forget feeling that lost for that long when he’d abandoned his homeland as an adolescent. Felix is older now than Lon’qu had been back then, but that doesn’t mean its easier. After all, Lon’qu had nothing and no one left behind to miss him when he was gone. He knows that isn’t the case for Felix. He gives a solemn nod of understanding to his fellow swordsman. Lon’qu notices his daughter fidgeting with Felix’s sleeve, but she’s doing no harm. If it keeps her occupied for the discussion, that would be a blessing. 

    But he is glad to hear Felix is there to take him up on that offer from nearly a decade past. Though, back then it had been a little simpler. If you need a new purpose for your blade, come find me in Ferox. In truth, he didn’t really expect the man to do so. But things change...often when you least expect them to. Originally, Lon’qu just intended to offer him a place among Ferox’s armed forces, knowing that he’d been a great addition and a prime candidate of Feroxi strength. 

   However, Lon’qu was the right-hand man of the West Khan back then. Now he was the West Khan. While he could still offer Felix the same job he intended to, there’s one he’d rather put him in now. 

   “ There was no expiration, no ,” he says as he leans forward in his seat, elbows resting on the table that’s probably a little too low-set for a man of his height. “ I was just going to offer you a position among our ranks in Ferox, as that was all I had the authority to do at the time. But things are a bit different now .” What’s the best way to put it? Lon’qu has always been a bit of a showboat when it came to his skills, but he was still trying to adjust to a leadership position. 

   “ The reason I went to Fodlan was to grow stronger. Strong enough to defeat the West Khan. He stepped down about a year ago and named me his successor, but in Ferox, you can’t just claim the title given to you. You still have to earn it. He’d been hinting at choosing me for years, so I needed to be prepared. And I was. Now he’s retired, and I’m the Khan of West Ferox .” He pauses just a moment, having not really had a chance to plan out this new offer, since he hadn’t even thought Felix would ever show up for it to be a possibility. He’d been sure he was going to have to ask Vaike. 

    “ But I’m not in charge. The East Khan still holds power, and frankly, she and I don’t see eye to eye on things. Right now, my title is little more than that: a title. The ruling khan is determined in a tournament every few years, and the next one is in about six months. But to prevent internal conflict and bloodshed among kin, we don’t fight each other. We bring in outsiders to champion us. In the past, I was the right-hand of champion of the last West Khan .” Lon’qu sits back in his seat a bit, arms folded over his chest. 

# of spoken languages: 1 / 2 / 3+ : Common (so I guess whatever they speakin in Ylisse and Ferox mostly); Chon’sinese (but it’s a little rusty)

Tone of voice: High / average / deep Accent: Yes / soft / no Demeanour: Confident / shy / approachable / hostile / other*

*>standoffish; he’s pretty hard to approach even if you’re not a woman. Unless you just don’t care about his attitude.

Posture: Slumped / straight / stiff / relaxed Habits: Head tilting / swaying / fidgeting / stuttering / gesturing / arm crossing / strokes chin / ah, er, um, or other interjections / plays with hair or clothing / hands at hips / inconsistent eye contact (w/ women) / maintains eye contact / frequent pausing / stands close / stands at distance

Complexity:

Vocabulary: ★ ★ ★ ★ ✩

Emotion: ★ ★ ★ ✩ ✩

Sentence structure: ★ ★ ★ ✩ ✩

Profanity:

Frequency: ★ ★ ★ ★ ✩

Creativity: ★ ✩ ✩  ✩  ✩

Watchfulness: ★ ★ ★ ✩ ✩

Bold all that apply: Arse. Ass. Asshole. Bastard. Bitch. Bloody. Bugger. Bollocks. Chicken shit. Crap. Cunt. Dick. Frick. Fuck. Horseshit. Motherfucker. Piss. Prick. Screw. Shit. Shitass. Son of a bitch. Twat. Wanker. Coward. Pussy.

This or that?

Contractions or enunciation? Straightforward or cryptic? Jargon or toned? Complexity or simplicity? Finding the right word or using the first word that comes to mind? Masculinity, neutrality, or femininity? Formalities or abrasiveness? Praise or equivocation? Frankness or lies? Excessive or minimal hand gestures? Name-calling or magnanimity? Friendly or blunt nicknames?

Important questions:

Do people have a hard time understanding/hearing your character? Almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / almost never

Does your character’s point come across easily when they speak? Almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / almost never

Would your character initiate conversations? Almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / almost never

Would your character be the one to end conversation? Almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / almost never

Would your character use ‘whom’ in a sentence? Yes / No

Your character wants to make a counterpoint. what word do they use? But / though / although / however / perhaps / mayhaps

How does your character end conversations? Walk away / ask if that’s everything / say that that’s everything / give a proper goodbye / tell their company they’re done here / remain quiet / they don’t

How does your character address others? Titles / first names / surnames / full names / nicknames (usually degrading)

What social class would others assume your character belongs to, hearing them speak? Upper / middle / working / lower (most of his life was lower)

In what ways does the way your character speak stand out to others? Accent / vocabulary / tone / level / politeness / brusqueness / it doesn’t

Tagged by: @convxction​ HEY BROOOO!!!

If she were being honest, she had thought Lon’qu would be able to handle things differently, should her own demise come to pass. He was far more level headed with his emotions than she was. And she’d readily admit to letting her own anger of even hubris get in her way. But Lon’qu was different. He HAD to be different. For Noire’s sake.

But the other shoving it in her face that things might still not end up well upon her demise was enough to make her look away. Tharja really hadn’t thought about it. What dying at the ends of Lon’qu or even herself may do to those she left behind. She’d thought they would just be doing them a favor. Preventing Noire from having a life of hexes cast upon her and being used as some rat. Couldn’t that be the better alternative? What worse fate could be left for her if she was just with Lon’qu?

And surely if the circumstances were explained to the girl, she’d understand. She HAD to understand. Tharja even made a mental note to write out a note to both the unborn Noire and the future one that explained everything. Should Lon’qu have to fill out the promise she was forcing him to take, she didn’t want their daughter to put all the blame on him.

Tharja was only snapped from her thoughts when she felt tension rise up in the other’s shoulders. Far more than before. And before she could even begin to question him, he recoiled back. Her hand sliding off his shoulder and just hanging in midair until she lowered it. 

She didn’t fault him for such a reaction. It was a difficult conversation to have after all, even for her. For all her fascination with death and the dark arts, she didn’t want to die. And thought she was making Lon’qu promise so many things, she didn’t want him to ever have to go through with them. Because she didn’t want to ever be that woman and she was fighting so hard to make sure she never did. But there was still that innate fear that she had the potential to become that monster. That just one tragedy could send her over the edge and ruin everything.

Tharja didn’t say a word as she watched Lon’qu practically fly off the couch and come to face her with a look she hadn’t seen on him before. One that made her own eyes widen slightly before she reverted back to her ever stoic visage. Allowing him to shout his words and get out his frustration. It was the least she could do after all. And besides, there was SENSE to his words. A lot of sense. Not that she’d ever admit that, even to him.

But eventually she had to step in. Especially once Lon’qu fell to the floor and was practically ripping at his hair “Hey! LON’QU!”

She shouted but it was doubtful he heard her as he muttered something she could barely make out. Letting out a sigh as she joined him on the floor. Chow was quick to follow as he whimpered at the shouting and the clear distress Lon’qu was showing. Even trying to provide his own comfort by licking the man’s arm. Tharja didn’t stop the pup either. Dogs were a good weapon to use when trying to bring someone back to reality. She should know. They always worked on her.

“STOP!” She said with force in her tone. Grasping at Lon’qu’s hands to try and stop him from tearing at his own head. Though his physical strength was far greater than hers and he could easily pull away if he wanted to. She really hoped he didn’t want to.

“There are no guarantees what will happen. I’m just preparing in case it DOES. And here you are trying to rip your skull open because of it?”

    He hears her shout his name but it sounds distant and hollow, he can barely make it out over the vicious whispers that flood his head. The trauma he faced when he was younger had always affected him in ways...made him skittish and abrasive around women, afraid to let anyone close, made him obsessive with getting strong, made him brutally reprimand himself at every failure. Admittedly, his time with the Shepherds had helped him grow from it...particularly his time with her. His nightmares lessened, his social skills improved, his fear of women was somewhat less potent...there was still plenty of room for further improvement, but it was progress. 

    A flare-up of his trauma like this...He can’t remember the last time it happened. If it ever happened like this since he left Chon’sin...The prospect of losing her...it’s come to him before. Caused him sleepless nights, caused his nightmares to shift the face of who he’s lost and mourning to hers, caused him anxiety on the battlefield whenever he can’t see her, even if he knows she’s more than capable of handling herself. But the prospect of having to kill her himself, and her being so convinced that there was no other solution...It’s too much for him. He can handle many things, but this...this he cannot. 

    He feels the tiny, damp sensation of the pup licking at his arm, and though it doesn’t bring him back to reality, it does mute it enough that he can feel Tharja’s hands grabbing at his own as she tries to pull them away from his head and out of his hair. Though he’s far stronger than her, he starts to come to, enough that his white knuckles regain their color and his iron grip loosens. Her voice, her words, start to calm him again. Even if they might contradict what she told him moments ago, he’s willing to believe the lie. At least enough to push away the crippling pain and anxiety that washed over him. 

    Lon’qu stays on his knees where he is, he lets his hands lower away from his head. His muttering stops, but his shoulders slump and his breathing is still heavy and unsteady...and he hasn’t let go of her hands. His eyes travel to the scar on her left palm...the one that matches his own. If she’d been distressed by his outburst, he couldn’t even feel it over his own rush of emotion...he can’t remember a time when his own were stronger than hers. His thumb idly brushes over the mark on her hand, fondly yet solemn. He wonders how much she felt from him at that. 

    “ Tharja ...” he whispers. Slowly he looks back up at her, the anger and the panic replaced with somber despair. He stares at her a few moments, eyes fixated on her own...as if taking it in. Every feature, every angle, every color, every stray wisp of hair...As if committing it to memory, should it be the last time he ever see her. Even if he didn’t care about beauty, he never could deny how he appreciated hers...even in all its shadow.

    “ I understand why you asked this of me...If any of us are forced to bear the pain...I would want it to be me .” He wouldn’t wish for Noire to suffer the trials her future self had, nor would he wish for Tharja to suffer his death or her actions...He knows it would destroy him...But He would rather take that fall than place it on either of them. “ I’ll...make that promise...if I must...Because I love you .” He can’t help the way his voice cracks at the words.

     He looks down again so she cannot see how his eyes glaze over. He holds her hands slightly tighter, but not so firmly as to cause pain or hold her in place. But she’s the only thing grounding him. He fears if he loses a physical connection with her in that moment that he’ll fall into an abyss he can never crawl back out of. 

    “ But....you can’t expect me not to try. It doesn’t matter how bad things look, I have to try to save you from it. You have a good heart, I know you do. I’ve seen it a thousand times. You can lose your way, but it doesn’t mean you are lost .” No matter how many people had died at her hands...their hands...she’d helped more. Even if she’d never admit it. 

    Heard your Combat Professor went crazy and kidnapped a student and tried to kill everyone. That sucks. Looks like you need a new Combat Professor that isn’t a serial killer!

    Presenting Lon’qu! He’s weird, but he has no record of kidnapping! Fresh out of Faerghus, he’s ready to teach the students of Garreg Mach the ways of combat. He’s even as awkwardly anti-social as the last one. Especially around women. 

    Three Houses verse for Lon’qu from FE Awakening now available! Like and/or reblog this post if you’re a 3h blog interested in interacting!

       In the time he searches for an answer, Cordelia’s shifted her vision forwards once more; gaze steady as she waits for her eyes to adjust to the blackness in what she hopes isn’t vain effort. She’s truly doubtful that they will encounter anyone encroaching on the camp\s perimeter tonight - it’s been hours now and aside from the movement of nocturnal animals in the undergrowth there hasn’t been a sound - but it never hurts to be prepared, and at the very least it could be seen as a form of training, perhaps.

       The sound of his voice slicing through the night again pulls her attention back to the conversation, though her eyes remain focused ahead. She’s silent while he speaks; listens to his explanation with her head tilted in consideration, and find she can’t fight the slight, ironic smile that spreads across her lips in response.

       And his question, a slight huff of laughter escapes her, and though she knows he can’t see, shakes her head in reply. ❝ I wasn’t, actually. ❞ It’s true - Cordelia’s not at all surprised by the substance of his answer. What’s more surprising to her is the fact that she was right - and that his reasons ring so close to her own feelings on the matter.

       ❝ I happen to agree, on every point you’ve listed. There’s a certain freedom in it - being able to let down a few walls without the worry of anyone seeing past them. ❞ And walls are something that she has plenty of. ❝ Maintaining such facades at all hours can be… exhausting, to say the least. ❞

       She falls silent then, but after a moment speaks up again, and can’t hide the faintly curious, faintly amused tone from her voice as she echoes his own words from before. 

       ❝ Were you expecting something more complicated? ❞

    He listens in silence when she speaks. Letting down walls...he supposes that’s something she doesn’t do much of, either. She had an image about her among the others, that was for certain. The other Pegasus Knights had referred to her as a prodigy of sorts, she was held to incredible standards at all hours from what he’d seen. She seemed more than capable of meeting them. 

    But he knows all too well how being held to such ideals can be trying...particularly if you fear failure because you’ve tasted that sting before. He failed to save his first love, and she was forced to ride onward as her entire battalion gave their lives to protect Ylisse. Guilt is not a burden so easily shaken, no matter what your duty requires of you. He knows that feeling all too well. 

    “ That it can ,” he agrees, voice calm but somewhat solemn. How strange it is that he feels he can let his guard down with her, even if only a little. Perhaps its because they have much in common in that way. He glances over at her question, barely able to make out her features in the darkness. Was he expecting something more complicated from her response?

     There’s a few seconds pause from him, perhaps a bit awkwardly long. Words were never his strong suit anyway, particularly not words to a woman. “ ...I don’t know what I was expecting .” He’s certainly not going to pretend that he understands her all that well, even if he finds they have certain things in common. 

The smirk on Sully’s face was probably stretching from ear to ear. She was actually RELIEVED that Lon’qu had dodged her attack. It just meant their fight could go on longer! That was exactly what she wanted after all. She didn’t want to take him down in one hit, it would take away all the thoughts she had of him being a strong fighter. She wanted their match to be something people talked about in camp for DAYS! Maybe even weeks. 

“Dead? Fat chance!” She laughed at his words. If he killed her well that would be something! Chrom and the rest might not be too thrilled about it thought. Granted, neither would she. Sully had far more fights to fight before she could die. And going out in a training session was not at the top of her lists of ways to die.

She at least wanted to be killed by an axe if Naga was really ready to take her. One that cut her clean in half! Now that’d be a way to go.

“Why? It’ll be a better story to tell if I beat you with a hunk of wood!” She laughed again, dodging his blows as she had been before. Lon’qu came close only one time. Slightly grazing Sully’s arm, though she paid the mild injury zero attention as she gripped her lance and went in for another attack. Aiming for the stomach again only to switch gears and go for the man’s left foot at the last second.

    There’s no getting through to her with words, it seems. She’s far too bull-headed! He lets out a long groan of effort as he swings his blade again to push her lance aside. 

     She’s skilled, he’ll give her that. Not that he doubted it at any point, he’s seen her in battle and sparring against others like Stahl and Vaike. But why she feels she needs to test her mettle against him specifically is beyond him. Yes, Lon’qu was one of the best warriors in the army, but he was not the best. He still remembers how Gregor had all but humiliated him...When he’d impulsively challenged the man to a battle to test his own strength...

     Perhaps it’s the pot calling the kettle black to wonder why she would so blatantly seek to fight him when he’s done much the same himself. But Gregor didn’t have a crippling fear of men. 

    Lon’qu doesn’t have it in him to take any pleasure out of landing a hit on her. He wasn’t trying to. His intent was to keep her at bay and disarm her, not harm her. He visibly flinches when he sees he’s drawn blood, however minor that inflicted wound might be. It’s enough to make him lose his focus just long enough that he doesn’t fully dodge the blow to his middle, and he loses his footing when she goes for his boot right after. The swordsman tumbles to the ground, but instinct keeps him from settling there. He rolls backwards over his shoulder, quickly back on his feet with his blade at the ready, but he’s ready for her to be right on top of him despite the small distance he’s put between them. 

Lon’qu - 3 Houses AU

Name: Lon’qu Xu’jian Age: 26 (31 post-timeskip) Height: 192 cm (6′4″) House: Unaffiliated (he’s not a student) Birthday: 10th of the Wyvern Moon Current Residence: Garreg Mach Monastery Homeland: Mateus Territory, Faerghus Country of Origin: Sreng Crest: None Former Occupation: Right-hand man and Captain of the Guard for Lord Mateus’ private army. Current Occupation: Hired as the combat professor at Garreg Mach’s officer’s academy after Jeritza defected. 

Roster Info: 

Class: Myrmidon > Mercenary > Assassin Recruitment Requirements: Level 15 Available Paths: All Boons: Swords, Brawling, Bows Banes: Faith, Heavy Armor Hidden Talent: Flying Personal Skill: Adrenaline: If HP is below 50%, chance to make a critical hit is increased by 15% when attacking and 20% when defending. 

Likes: Insects, sparring, potatoes. Dislikes: Bandits, being near women, sweets, reading (cos he can’t). Interests: Insects, swordplay, hunting. Favorite Tea: Water. But he can tolerate Crescent Moon Tea or Almyran Pine Needle Tea. Favorite Flower: Forget-me-nots Ideal Gifts: Whetstone, Board Game, Smoked Meat Disliked Gifts: History of Fodlan, Legends of Chivalry, Tasty Baked Treat Lost Items:   -    Small Paring Knife - a small knife used for peeling fruits and vegetables.  -    Runed Leather Bracelet - a thin bracelet of black leather with glyphs embossed on it.  -    Leather Belt Clip - a worn clip that looks like it’s meant to attach a sheath to a belt.

Quotes ---> click here

Background: 

    Lon’qu grew up in the slums of Sreng. His parents had almost no money despite his father working 18 hours a day, 7 days a week in low-paying jobs. His mother was cruel and neglectful toward him. As a child, Lon’qu spent most of his time doing chores or playing with bugs outside. He met a young girl named Ke’ri and befriended her, and as they grew older, the feelings turned romantic. Shortly after they started courting, they went on a date by the river and were beset by bandits who took her life. Since that day, he’s been terrified of being near or talking to women and is very abrasive.

    After her murder, her parents blamed him for her death and he fled Sreng at the age of 16. He ended up in Faerghus’ Gideon territory where he was forced to be a thief and do some rather unsavory things to survive. After about a year of scrounging and struggling, he landed an apprenticeship with a blacksmith and studied the blade. By age 20, he’d become exceptionally skilled with a sword and joined the army of the next territory over for Lord Mateus. Over the years, he proved his abilities and worked his way up the ranks, partly due to his skill, but also due to his stalwart loyalty to Lord Mateus. His trust in him eventually landed him his position as Captain of the Guard. 

    Recently, after Jeritza’s betrayal and defection, Garreg Mach was in need of a new Combat Professor. Lon’qu was recommended for the job because of his steadfast loyalty and trustworthiness, which is, honestly, what they needed most at that point.

    Basically his backstory is really similar to his canon one. 

Alternate AU Background: 

Lost Item his: “I’ve been looking for this. You have my thanks.” not his: “That isn’t mine.”

Gift likes: “I don’t care for gifts but...I can make good use of this.” neutral: “...For me?” dislike: “And you want me to do what with this?”

Recruitment requirements not met: “I’m busy at the moment. If you really still need my help later, let me know.” requirements met: “It looks like you have your hands full. Fine then, I’ll offer you my help where I can.” accept: “Alright. See you in the morning.” decline: “Suit yourself.”

Tea Party greeting: “You know I hate tea, right?” favorite tea: “Alright, this one isn’t too bad.” end: “ Thanks, I guess .”

Choir Practice ⇓: “Why the hell do you need me here?”

Cooking ⇑: “I’ll leave the seasoning to you. Just...go easy on the salt.”

Dining Hall favorite food: “Good meals are harder to come by than you’d think. I’ll remember this one.” neutral: “I’m used to eating alone, you know. You didn’t need to sit with me...” dislike: “It’s....edible. Barely.”

Monastery Phase Quotes - Female Byleth

Lost Item his: “I...w-where did you find that? Thank you, I guess.” not his: “That isn’t mine, now leave me be!”

Gift likes: “I..I don’t need anything from you! But...thanks, I guess .”  neutral: “I...urgh...bribery will get you nowhere!” dislike: “What do you expect me to do with this? Begone, woman!”

Recruitment requirements not met: “I’m...busy. I don’t have time to be helping you. Find someone else.” requirements met: “It looks like you have your hands full. If you insist, I...offer my assistance.” accept: “Alright. See you in the morning.”  decline: “Fine then! I didn’t want to help, anyway...”

Tea Party greeting: “What do you want with me?” favorite tea: “Alright, this one isn’t too bad.” end: “We don’t need to make a habit of this.”

Choir Practice ⇓: “Why the hell do you need me here?”

Cooking ⇑: “ If you insist...But I’m leaving the seasoning to you. Just...go easy on the salt.”

Dining Hall favorite food: “Good meals are harder to come by than you’d think. I’ll remember this one.” neutral: “I’m perfectly fine eating alone! Why do you insist on sitting with me...?” dislike: “It’s....edible. Barely.”