#adoringflirt

          they’re leaving.  the promise has been made, efforts all dealt by a mighty fist of desire.  they’re leaving and she shouldn’t face this fact with the heavy emotion of skepticism if the plans had already been made.  there was no honor in going back on a word.  tearing apart a father’s wish and his familial need to be home.   (   that is not your home.  it never was.  ophelia dusk is from the country of nohr, not the land of ylisse.  you are not your father; he was not raised within the depths of a fake home beneath a glass structured sky.   )   but ophelia is anything but needlessly selfish.

          her room is barren, no longer the mess that supported the feeling of closeness she often required of a home.  but she unpacks it all instantly   —   unable to take the sight of emptiness.  her tomes are tucked back into her bookshelves, scrolls a many litter her bed and it’s as she moves to set up the clothing in her wardrobe that she stops.  hands hovering over her cloak, a bit of ways hovering from the hanger it should be rested on.  there’s an itch in her; scratching at her throat and poking at her mind.

          there is no denial in the fact that she wants to leave.  explore every ruin of ylisse and do so at her father’s side.  ophelia wants this badly: the feeling of having her curiosity fed like a curled up kitten.  the pleasure of having something to fuel her excitement   —   new land, weapons of a variety, new life, new wishes.  but it calls for a sacrifice that she isn’t sure of making.

          a knock at her door startles ophelia, the cloak falls from her hands as she whips her head around in the sound’s direction.  two steady raps against hard wood.  she waits, a pause in her actions before she hurries to the door.  bare hands grab at the door’s handle   (   her gloves were among the pieces of clothing tossed in a suitcase, one she would take.   )   and she waits another moment to turn it.  a click echoes after the door hinges creak; ophelia peeks through the small crack between the door and the wall.

          the sight of pink curls and wide eyes cause her to yank the door open.   “   soleil!  the chosen one is quite... unimpressed by your attitude of betraying fate’s promise of a proper arrival.   ”   truthfully so, she’s comforted by the swordswoman's coming, even if it’s late and should have been here an hour or two ago. her grip on the handle softens and her shoulders relax, lowering to a normal stance as she steps to the side and pulls soleil into her house.   “   father has not yet graced my abode with his presence.   ”   she says, quickly closing the door behind her.   “   you’ve packed, yes?   ”

          but it does not take a genius to know that this isn’t what she wants to ask.  ‘has any of our friends spoke to you?  did they seem worried?  scared?  has a small dragon come knocking at your door a bit more than usual?  have you begun looking over your shoulder as a habit now?’  yet she swallows each question and puts a brave smile on.  she is not scared of what is to come.  the only fright that exists is in everything she’ll be leaving behind.

          “   i must confess to not doing the same...   ”   her comment is small but said with a raised chin and a prideful gesture to the mess that has become her room now.  it feels right.  everything feels as if it should be there.  ophelia walks back into her room and begins rearranging the collection of stones on her dresser.  her others lie hidden in the chest beneath her bed, along with half finished scrolls and torn pages from tomes.   “   i hope your mind kept tight to the information that laslow said; to pack lightly.  it’s a difficult task to carry things over to—”   there’s a tug in her throat.   “—there.  to bring things there.   ”

          she sighs,   “   fate has intentions of keeping the chosen one stuck in her room for the short period of cleaning required but if need be and all falls to it, we may travel down to the marketplace incase you wish to bear different attire upon our retreating day.   ”

          (   retreating day sounds an awful lot like running away when in the face of their situation.  no, not situation.  their choice.  everything comes with a choice, a decision, the one lining not like the silver between clouds.  they had a choice and they made it.  there was no turning back now.   )

You’ve co-taught your peers, now it’s time to take it to the next level! A nearby village has had enough of their unruly children behaving like gremlins and have begged the church for aid. Their hope is that a little bit of learning might sate their unrelenting energy for a moment or two - and if not, well, at least they’ll have a day’s respite to gather themselves back up.  Grab a partner and a lesson plan and meet your new students, and maybe take care not to lose any of them. [Grants Authority +1]

They meet in the dining room for a hearty breakfast as the late summer sun streams through the window, illuminating the hall in rosy hues of gold and crimson. Elincia tucks an errant lock of sage green hair behind her ear before tucking in to an extra helping of eggs. This was the most important meal of the day, after all.

Across from her sits Soleil - a new student and a member of the Blue Lions. The mission they had been charged with was definitely safe but she thinks to herself it’s a little cruel to throw the younger woman in at the deep end. Despite this, Soleil smiles brighter than the star she’s named after as they share idle chatter and small talk in order to get to know one another better. Privately Elincia has to admire the other woman’s open, cheerful nature. It puts her more at ease too, Soleil’s easy smiles make her own reservations seem like trivialities. Why hold back if there’se nothing to hide.

“So, I was thinking,” Elincia begins, in between bites of toast. Part of her hopes it’s not too forward - again, something in her holds back around others. She has never been particularly shy and Elincia supposes it’s just a remnant of her upbringing. One she hopes to break down. “We could walk the route set out and arrive at sunset in the village, thoroughly exhuasted.”

“Or... we could fly there. I’m a fairly skilled rider and Chrysaor’s always excited to meet my friends,” Elincia’s hand reaches in front of her face, stifling a chuckle. ”It would be much faster and leave us ample time to prepare for our class.”

kiss, kiss   (   dragon age au!   )

          it’s long after evening light when rhajat steps into the small backroom of her house; a cabin far in the depths of the korcari wilds, left to the perception or not of the average human.  she does not close the door behind her, wary of an route to back into in case of an unexpected action from the unconscious templar lying on the makeshift bed across from her.  it takes a moment for her to settle into the realization that she had protected and saved a templar from the hands of bandits.  she could tell herself that she was simply being kind to the already injured lady in that moment but even she knows that her heart has no trace of compassion.

          rhajat stares at the templar as she sleeps   —   soleil, her name is.  or from what she’s heard from days of following her through her daily tasks.  those that, unusually, seem to deal more so on the hand of chasing maidens in villages rather than the responsibility of her sword.  though that brought forth stronger worries; what was a templar doing in the korcari wilds in the first place?  and with every one templar, rhajat knows that there are more.  so to save soleil and bring her into her home was... foolish.  truly.

          the floorboard creaks beneath her heel as she moves forward, dropping to a kneel beside the makeshift bed and watching without a flinch as soleil’s eyes begin to flutter open.  she should kill her.  it won’t take much.  the templar’s strength has already been sapped from the injuries she’s been found with.  besides, rhajat wouldn’t be that idiotic and fully heal soleil.  especially not with the evidence of the other being here on the news of an apostate running around in the villages nearest.

          rhajat could keep her alive, a source for her magic if the time called for it, but the idea is one she refuses.  instead, when soleil fully awakens, the mage greets her,   “   unfortunate...  i thought the Maker would have forgotten you completely.   ”   soleil rises to sit up and makes a noise of discomfort, that which rhajat rolls her eyes to.   “   your injuries were grave but with time, i was able to keep you on the side of the living.   ”

          a narrowed glare darkens rhajat’s features as she adds,   “   your sword is locked away.  if you attempt to make any hostile move against me, i will pull your eyes from their sockets and feed your flesh to the wolves outside.   ”   though the threat is one she’s said many times, it has not worn off its seriousness.  the evident note of it being something she will and has done slipping into the spaces of her voice.  but soleil only laughs at it; odd, rhajat glances at the templar’s bandages.

          she’s insane.  unfortunate, since she could have been good use, but—

          soleil leans towards her and rhajat’s hand closes around the dagger clipped to her hip, unsheathing it the very moment that soleil’s face nears hers.  the cold touch of iron presses against soleil’s neck as the templar’s lips place a generous kiss on rhajat’s cheek.  it’s then, that she decides that yes, the templar has gone mad.  completely.  she must have failed to heal some pain or injury within soleil’s head, or worse, chest.

          “   calm down, calm down.  it’s a thank you kiss! not anything hostile,   ”   is what soleil says when she moves back to face rhajat properly, though the mage does nothing but blink at that.  another’s touch being something she has never experienced, barely with the embrace of a missing father.  so, she gives only a moment to think before frowning.   (   stalking and stories have shown her that kisses are something to give to those beloved, those who are close, not to someone disgraced and stuck within a stigma.   )

@adoringflirt

With the Ethereal Ball just around the corner, it’s high time that you start getting your ballroom attire in order. Naturally, wealthy students have long made it a tradition to visit nearby fabric shops with friends so that they can get a custom piece in time for the event. However, with more and more students of humble backgrounds attending, a few new shops have popped up recently selling ready-made outfits for everyone to try on.

A veritable library of fabrics had found itself spread out wide across the marketplace grounds. Mitama wondered how many merchants were competing for the attention of students and guests in regards to the upcoming event, and how many were working together to ensure the greatest amount of profit. Mitama might never know, but it was interesting to muse about as they browsed the wares.

Mitama did not anticipate buying any of the dresses that they browsed on this day. Even at their reduced price, it felt like a waste of her stipend to spend so much of it on something she intended to wear once. She had already decided what she wanted to wear to the ball besides, even if she was admittedly somewhat nervous about what sort of reaction it might garner from onlookers.

Still. Dresses were pretty, and Mitama was not so removed in her piety to deny herself that little bit of vanity.

“What color do you think would be best?” She asked. Mitama had no idea if Soleil was more interested in finding a dress or simply seeing other women in them, but she would not deny her friend company when it was offered. “Our shared hair color is admittedly difficult to dress for...I always worry that certain colors matched with it might appear overbearing in combination.” Red for example, despite how much her usual wear called for it.

meet and greet!

          there is something awfully wrong with how this lady shakes in front of her.

          from what nótt is able to hear from her, this lady   —   soleil   —   wants her to...   “   crush you with... my thighs...?   ”   oh, nótt hopes she had heard her wrong.  soleil sways on her feet, as if she wishes to crash to the ground rather than stand.  well, that wouldn’t do!  nótt carefully reaches out to steady her but before her hands can even graze soleil’s shoulders, the lady falls and hits the ground. hard.   “   MY GOODNESS!  soleil?  soleil, can you hear me?   ”

          jótun princess drops to her knees and carefully takes soleil in her arms, unable to stop the surprise that befalls her expression at how small the lady is compared to her.  except, here, it’s something she’ll have to get used to, just like her time in askr.  soleil immediately wakes up from her momentary pass out and nótt sighs in relief.

          “   have you hit your head?  taken too much alcohol?  shall i carry you to the infirmary?   ”   it’s difficult to not be worried sick for some lady you saw staring at you from afar, literally shaking and trembling as if   —   “   oh!  you must be sick, a slight cold, yes?   ”   nótt is knowledgeable, thankfully, on the variety of medicines and field of diseases; sicknesses in minor.  testing her skills to fit the mold of a crown.  she holds a hand gently to soleil’s forehead and blinks in confusion when soleil grabs onto her hand.  not to move it, no, to hold it there.

          “   you’re... you’re so fine,   ”

          nótt doesn’t move, blinking quicker now.  soleil’s skin is warm but not as hot as she would have imagined.   “   before you attempt to ask again for me to... crush you, might i knock you out?  for you to save your breath, of course.   ”   and she almost does so, if not for soleil muttering out a shaky yes before passing out yet again.  nótt sits there, soleil in her arms, and frowns.  while her beauty is... wonderous   —   sculpted by a goddess and her will   —   she’s never had many pass out just by looking at her.

hold me, heal me - not accepting

Five, seven, and five...no, that cannot be right.

Mitama frowns at Soleil as she continues to count the syllables over in her head. She stretches the words each and every way she can, seeing if perhaps it is fortune that allows for this achievement. But no, she cannot find any potential mistake or flaw or catch that might' have proven Soleil was simply fortunate by chance.

Soleil had finally written a haiku. A veritable, structurally sound haiku.

It was by no means a mastery of the art. It was rudimentary at best if Mitama was generous, painfully straightforward and not at all artistic. But by all standards, it did meet the criteria to be considered a haiku, as she had promised Mitama she would one day manage.

Mitama herself was not one for breaking promises either.

Mitama sighs, though her lips twitch upwards into a smile as she concedes her defeat. "As requested, you have succeeded, and thus you have earned our agreed upon reward. You may take me out for tea, once. But do not- Soleil!"

As soon as her word is given, Soleil yanks her forward, laughing as she lifts Mitama up into her hug. Mitama can only hold on and protest as Soleil twirls the two of them, laughter echoing in both of their ears. She has no intent of stopping and Mitama, slowly devolving into laughter herself, finds she does not mind as much as she had expected.

“So shorty how did I do. Also don’t kill me.” Removing an arm from around his waist, Soleil dug into her pocket and pulled out a bag full of candy. She released him from her forced hug before handing him the bag. “It’s good to see you again. Now I’m off to go bother Mitama and Ophelia with my amazing pick up lines.” She was actually about to bother a lot of people but those two were the first on her list.

          the pick up line is immediately responded to by a confused tilt of asugi’s head and a frown,   “   ‘m not a chick, soleil.   ”   because he knew that she mostly preferred speaking sweet nothings to people who were females.  not males.  which crosses him off the list, definitely.  but there isn’t a hint of miscommunication or error in soleil’s expression as she smiles   (   not sweetly, it’s more so savory than sweet.  like he was a piece of candy she’d like to enjoy as time passes.   )

          his instincts immediately force him to step away when she moves towards him, but the hand on his hip startles the next step out of him   —   she’s quick to move behind him, arms wrapped around his waist and the weight of her chin on his shoulder.  his frown does not give way.  instead, it deepens and his hands reach down to pry her off of him.  but it’s half - hearted; almost reluctant to remove himself from a friend’s grasp.

          (  —one that he doesn’t carry a nickname for.  it’s a wonder, really, what he’d even call her.  ‘smiles’?  it could work, maybe.  although her reason for smiling has been spilled before him over the campfire before; that nickname may be bitter or sweet, he isn’t sure which one is which for this.   )

          his nails dig into her wrists as he clicks his tongue,   “   ‘shorty’?  you’re not even that taller than me.   ”   asugi releases one of her wrists when she moves her arm, using that hand to reach over his shoulder and flick her on the forehead.   “   ya’ know what, ‘m not feeling very generous right now.  and since that line you said was eh, i want a—”

          bag of candy.  a bag of candy that soleil pushes into his arms after letting go of him.  and while asugi isn’t the type of guy to worry about people poking at his friends but he is the type of guy to worry about people poking at his friends if that person went by the name of soleil.

          asugi laughs, opening the small bag as he shakes his head in amusement.   “   tell me what star says in response.   ”   because soleil’s funny and mitama’s even funnier so how could he miss out on a potential roasting?  even if it’s in the form of those whatever haiku things that mitama likes to say.  although, he does raise an eyebrow at the mention of ophelia.   “   and by bother, you don’t actually mean chase do ya’?   ”

She looked down at the poet as she leaned against the wall. She managed to catch her right outside her room, which was very good in her case. She hands Mitama a rose as an apology and laughs a little. “I don’t know how you do it. Haikus are so hard to make.” She waits a moment trying to read the poet. “Okay don’t kill me. I’m just a little shocked you’re not taken yet.”

"Your count was off."

Mitama does not pause to look up from where she scribbles in her notebook. Six, ten, eight. Mitama huffs an annoyed sigh as she looks up and fixes Soleil with a stern look. "Did you even pay attention to my lessons when I instructed you, or were you so enraptured in staring at me that you were unable to allow a thought to cross into your head?"

Despite her annoyance at the blatant disrespect of her artform, she finds herself smiling fondly as she shakes her head. Soleil has always been like this. It is reassuring at least to see that even in her absence, certain things will always remain the same.

"If you are going to attempt casual flirting with my beloved poetry, at least make an effort to prepare a proper one." She closes her notebook and tucks it under her arm. "The lines of your curves / encapsulate your beauty / smile evermore." There. By the dawn...

The rose is unexpected. Where had she even pulled that from? Mitama eyes it curiously before accepting it. "It is the result of years of practice and devoted training." And not simply doing it for the sake of flirting with girls.