#aegisshielded

starter for @aegisshieded

The rainclouds that have come to settle over the area this week shouldn’t have been a surprise. Something had managed to put these buildings underwater, and Julius couldn’t fathom exactly what but he assumed storms had to have had a hand in it. The wind picks up as he steps precariously from one part of a submerged rooftop to the next, and he can smell the damp in the air. Oh, how he wishes he had been wrong for once. This is a dream - dreams didn’t have to follow the waking world’s logic, but so far this one had all the same weather patterns. Except, perhaps, for the infinite night the hooded boatman warned them about. He steals a glance skyward at the dark forms of clouds rushing through the night and quickens his pace. It didn’t have to rain. These buildings could have simply been built under water.

His foot slips on a loose shingle and he slides toward the water, but scrambles to a stop just in time. He scowls into the dark depths, huffing to regain his breath. If water was the way the dream was trying to scare him, it wasn’t working (it was). He couldn’t swim, but that didn’t mean he had nightmares about drowning.

There had rarely been reasons for him to go near large bodies of water, anyway. He gathers himself again and glances out toward the faint glow of candlelight from the top floor of the building the others had identified as the “study.” The wind whispers louder, carrying the heavy patter of rainfall against the water’s surface. Growling under his breath, Julius hops to the next rooftop and begins a slow sprint to the other end. The pattering turns into a roar at his back. The study dances just out of reach.

He’s drenched the moment he reaches the doorway, and he busts through its old doors without any ceremony. After shutting it swiftly behind him, he simply stands and lets the water puddle at his feet, his stormy expression rivaling that which had begun to rage outside. Suddenly, he’s aware of another figure in the room. Another student, perhaps one who had seen the rain coming sooner than he had.

Sylvain has never been, and likely will never be, decent at saying goodbye. 

When it doesn’t matter, it ends with a stinging cheek, often with someone to berate him afterwards. Be more responsible. Be more considerate. How could you do such a thing? She really liked you.

(Except, no she didn’t. They never do. They’d cut his Crest out of his chest if they could, rip his heart right out just to squeeze out every last drop of wretched, blessed blood. After all, that’s all he’s ever been worth: a Crest, a Relic, and a bloodline continued.)

It’s what makes things so difficult when a goodbye does matter—because he’s scared of the response he’ll get.

Felix probably might be the last person who’ll care about his departure, but Sylvain owes it to him to at least say goodbye, just in case he doesn’t make it back. Maybe he’d be sad for a day, but he’ll definitely shake his head and say that whatever horrible thing wouldn’t have happened if Sylvain had just been more diligent in his training. He wouldn’t be wrong, but Sylvain—foolishly, undeservingly—kind of hopes that Felix will miss him. Just a little bit.

“Still at it, huh?” He says in place of a greeting. The training grounds are nearly empty at this hour, but Felix, predictably, it still there. “They’re serving some of your favorites in the dining hall today, you know. Wanna grab a bite to eat with me? It wouldn’t hurt to take a break every once in a while.”

Magic isn’t real and anyone stupid enough to think it is is just another sheeple, so says a group of naysayers protesting outside of the church. All black magic? Fake. All white magic? The work of a charlatan. All the Reason teachers have had enough. See if you can get rid of them, but with discretion. [Grants Reason +1]

“Wake up sheeple! Magic isn’t real, these so-called mages and healers are just trying to have you depend on them!”

Mercedes would have rather just ignored the protesters at the monastery, situating themselves outside the cathedral and the classrooms. Some people would simply refuse to see reason and there was little that could be done about it. Better to let them tire themselves out and go home than start an argument. Who knew how volatile these people could be? Likely, they were here just for attention and the best thing, in her mind, was to refuse them it. Which she would have done, had Professor Hanneman not approached her and asked her to have a ‘polite word’ with them for disrupting his classes.

She supposed he’d chosen her because she was older than the others, maybe less likely to be derided as a child by the mob of protesters. Or simply because she was hard to rattle and rile up. If things got nasty she wasn’t the type to engage any further. Either way, Mercedes found herself listening to their leader’s tirade about how white magic was the work of charlatans.

It bristled her a little as someone who dedicated herself to healing others. Mercedes took a deep breath, weaving her way through the crowd. Her intent was just to ask them if they could take their protests elsewhere whilst class was in session. That was until she spotted someone she recognised instantly.

“Felix?” Mercedes was surprised to find him here and somewhat concerned. He seemed to have precious little interest in magic but here he was, looking more irritated than usual. The groups ringleader shouted something incredibly rude at him and the young swordsman looked ready to retort when she interrupted him.

Technically, he hasn’t broken any promises. Technically.

Because while Felix had asked him to swear that he wouldn’t die, Sylvain had responded instead that he would return—and he has, hasn’t he? Whether it can be considered luck or a curse, the Goddess’ blessing or the result of her spite, he’s alive again. Sore, and scarred, and tired beyond his wildest dreams, but alive.

(Can’t even do dying right, can he?)

For at least an hour after he wakes, Sylvain remains in bed, staring up at his ceiling with a hand on his chest, counting his heartbeats and measuring his breathing. It’s not normal. None of this is normal. He doesn’t even need to close his eyes to remember his final moments; the phantom pains are ever-present in his limbs, a constant pressure against his chest that aches with every breath in, cracks on every breath out.

It was easier when he didn’t have to breathe at all.

His laugh comes quiet and humorless. It shakes in his lungs as he turns, moving to rise—until the movement makes something sharp dig into his chest, and he jerks back with a grimace. A quick pat reveals something there; a search shows Felix’s charm, splintered and broken.

...Right. Felix.

Felix.

Sliding out of bed feels like a chore. Standing up feels like a battle. He probably looks like shit; he certainly feels like it, though it helps that he’s managed a routine for himself for so long that the rest comes automatically. He changes his clothes. He brushes his hair. He looks at himself in the mirror, a final check before he leaves his room—and he isn’t quite sure he likes what he sees.

Then again, when has he ever?

Meandering about to find Felix feels a bit like habit, too. He checks the training grounds first, then the dining halls, then the classrooms. It takes some asking around before he finally realizes that the one place he should’ve checked was the closest: Felix’s room, just a few steps away from his own. Sylvain knocks once. Then twice. Then he knocks a third and a fourth, a tap, tap, tap-tap that follows the uneven beats of his heart.

“...Felix? You in there?”

found  family  prompts ; { drabble } – still accepting! ❀

Sakura wasn’t used to those kind of situations: being out for expeditions wasn’t exactly her role, but from times to times, she liked helping students and professors for their daily lessons outside the monastery, especially when it dealt with herbal medicine lessons – she was very keen on that subject, even though she didn’t like to brag about it.

Because of that choice, she accompanied a small group of Blue Lions students along a short path nearby the monastery walls, the one path that Sakura knew for sure it was rich in wild flowers and medical plants, the perfect spot for gathering, in other words. The day was going good, the trip was giving some very good fruits and everything seemed to go as planned: the expedition would be done before late afternoon and all students would be packed with herbs and medicinal plants. Everything went smooth, until a sudden downpour surprised the whole group of expedition: the position wasn’t very safe, since they were practically hiking a small hill with some rocks on the path, but luckily for the student’s group, Sakura immediately eyed a small hut, a wooden hut probably built for such critical occasions, since it was located on a safe ground, above the hill. With a firm voice, Sakura ordered the small group to proceed and to hole up inside the building: the four students immediately walked straight towards the hut, but as soon as the petite priestess tried to follow up, the ruinously stumbled on a rock due to the slippery ground and fell on the side, hurting her leg a little.

The soft ow of pain didn’t go unnoticed though and one of the student suddenly turned and ran towards the petite priestess in order to help her with her injury.

“Are you okay?” he simply said, already patching her hurt leg with some healing bands from the aid kit that actually Sakura decided to make the students bring with them, in case of necessity. The gentle student was Felix, a very intelligent and gentle noble, a bit aloof too, but certainly a very kind soul in Sakura’s opinion.

“Ow..You have my thanks, Sir Felix” she feebly said, still feeling a stingy pain in her leg and the expression on her face certainly said nothing else. “I really owe you one..” she softly giggled, trying her best to hide the pain and with much of her surprise too, the slim student gently bring her arms around his neck and slowly made his way towards the hut, accompanying Sakura and having much care of her injured leg.

Meet Cute/Ugly Meme

It had only been a day since Linhardt arrived at the monastery and he was already exhausted. Even though he already knew most of his house mates, they seemed more pompous than they were before. One of them, who shall remain nameless, kept challenging his house leader to a ‘honorable duel’. Linhardt couldn’t even find peace with Caspar as he was dragged to the training grounds to watch his friend show off against the other students.

It was such a bore and he couldn’t sleep due to the grunts of the training students. As he idly gazed around his eye caught a brief flash of light.

A crest! Now this was more up Linhardt’s alley. He closely watched the student with curiosity as he knocked the training sword out of his unexpecting opponent’s hands. The sword landed right by where Linhardt was lounging.

Linhardt got up to go return the sword to the flabbergasted student but as he reached down to grab it he noticed the student with the crest also reached for it. 

Byleth is naturally athletic having lead an active life prior to teaching. However, it didn't leave much time for sport outside the odd impromptu game when breaking for camp.

Eirika likes to go to bed reasonably early. Not at like six pm or anything, she’s careful to make sure she finishes all her tasks for the day and has time to relax and decompress. 

She prefers to do some training after dinnertime, to improve her skills and to tire herself out a bit before bed. She tends to stay up long enough to watch the moon rise in the sky, reading for pleasure most often, but she values a good night's rest.