#abrushwithvictory

"Oh, Ignatz!" Hilda holds a hand up to her face and sways a little bit. "You're going to make me blush!" She knows, of course, that she's gorgeous and won't actually blush. It is nice, though, being appreciated by someone with an artistic eye. It took her months to decide on the perfect gown and she respected Ignatz's opinion of it.

Lorenz was used to prowling- no, no that was aggressive, scanning the dance floor for a partner on his own, and was surprised that someone was asking him first. He looked down only to realize he’d in fact almost walked into the requester. He raised his eyebrows and smiled, pleased to see him coming out of his shell.

（ @abrushwithvictory​ ）

     It was much too scandalous for her to invite anyone -- let alone students -- in her room for tea, and as such, despite the cold of winter, she pushes through and hosts a small tea party in the courtyard one find afternoon. She brought along one of her favorite tea sets and saw it a pity to keep only as display. 

     Today, she makes two picks: a student of the Golden Deer House and tea that originated from their neighbors in Almyra. It was not her usual brew but she considers herself a curious soul when it comes to exploring various tastes other cultures and lands may offer. Hopefully the students in the monastery had the same view.

     Her brew does not take long to prepare and once poured, there’s no visible signs of the pine needles used. She considers adding some of them for decoration but she thinks of them to be cheap tricks that does nothing for the experience. Instead, she adds a thin cut of lemon to boost its already citrus flavor and for snacks, biscuits made from thee same pine needles. She brings the cup close and takes in the blend of citrus and pine, the aroma alone creating a therapeutic effect. 

     Maribelle can only smile at both the tea and her companion.

(starter for @abrushwithvictory)

Though it was something that was sometimes buried under his other traits, Owain considered himself to be just a bit of an artist. It was something that came off of two great loves of his: theatrics, and weapon maintenance. For the former, of course, it was a terribly useful boost to his typical displays; color and shape were wonderfully useful tools to catch the eye and keep it. For the latter, well... if he could put weapons and armor back together, by Naga, then he could put things that were much less sturdy and precise together, couldn’t he? All it took was a little creativity, and he had that in droves.

Right now, he was hard at work assembling a costume. Standing in a section of the monastery dedicated to its artistic pursuits (often frequented by monks more than students), Owain was piecing together mock plate armor. He had already put together a great quantity of papier-mâché for that purpose, and he had shaped it into each individual plate, which had been a process that had taken days, as well as adding some semi-menacing spikes to the whole ensemble. Now, he was painting these plates of armor, and that was a painstaking process as well, if perhaps a little bit easier on account of mostly just being uniformly gold-colored. He wouldn’t even be done after this, as he had to find some oil to waterproof the stuff with, and then he had to figure out what to wear with it, but for the show he was making this costume for, he wasn’t going to settle for anything less than the best.

"Felix! I'm surprised to see you anywhere other than the training grounds." It's said in a playful quip, and Ignatz only hopes he won't receive a scowl for the lighthearted nature of his words. "It's good to see you here; I hope you're enjoying your evening." Ignatz goes to retrieve his card, and holds it out to the other. "May I ask for a stamp?"

          he may say it’s good to see him here, but the fraldarius heir can’t help but feel the opposite. all the same, it didn’t seem as though he’d had much choice in the matter. an occasion like this was almost unnacceptable to miss; the staff never said it was mandatory, but they took careful note of who was present and who wasn’t. skipping attendance wouldn’t be worth the nuisance he’d have to deal with afterwards. ❝ trust me, ❞ he replies nevertheless, ❝ i’d rather be spending my time training. ❞

          he doesn’t know much about the other student, looking mousey and overall harmless in his glasses and attire for the evening. what little he’s seen of ignatz lends to that impression, and he’s never warranted his attention. but he knows about him, apparently. at least enough to guess where he’d prefer to spend his time.

          glancing down at the offered card, he hesitates. this game of stamps and favors is ridiculous, but ignatz doesn’t seem to be looking for a meaningless chatter to go along with it. there’s no reason to refuse, simple as it is.

“Ignatz!”

Leonie gave a wide smile to her bespectacled classmate, her card out and ready so that she may receive a signature. She may not understand the social nuance behind these cards, but if there was a prize to be won at the end she didn’t want to be left behind.

“Aw, thanks! Since when did you become such a sweet talker? You look quite handsome yourself!” She gave Ignatz a friendly pat on his shoulder. In reality it hadn’t been long since the last time the two saw each other, but for some reason it felt like it had been forever. Regardless to say, she was happy to see him at the ball tonight.

“It’s been good so far! Can’t really complain.”

She paused a moment to watch some of the dancers on the floor.

starter for @abrushwithvictory

If there was one that would be able to get Erk out of his room it was, surprisingly, the monastery itself. The way it was built, the way it looked... it was quite fascinating for him, and he found himself drawn to copying down small sketches and notes about the different kinds of architecture. It was a bit different from the complexes and churches they had back in Etruria; it was less loud and flamboyant, and more structurally sound, it seemed to him. 

The cathedral interested him especially. Though not the overtly religious type himself, he could respect the dedication to crafting something so carefully and meticulously. He discovered, in the rare time he wasn’t spending burying his nose in a book, himself curious enough to venture out and get a closer look. As he crossed the bridge, he wondered if the facade belied the design of the interior, but he wasn’t any expert so he figured best not to mull over it. 

It seemed, as he scouted around the outside, the intricacies of the interior were not 1-to-1 with the exterior. Circling around to find a quiet place to note all of this down - not that he was averse to talking to anyone, but he’d rather not disturb the monks and nuns that were about - Erk glanced down over the wall of the side. 

 He rounded the corner, and in his distraction, almost failed to notice that it seemed someone else had tried to find a similarly secluded place, although it seemed for different reasons. Glasses, and a very... round haircut.

Beside the box of quills sits a smaller gift, wrapped with care despite its size. Hubert almost hates to tear the paper that’s folded as if art itself, and does his best to keep it in one piece as he peels it open.