#aimlessarchery

"Consolation prize for making it so far in that dancing competition," he explains with a grin, "And for sweeping an old friend off her feet right under my nose. Didn't know you had that in you."

Python out of all professors would offer a student champagne, Ninian muses when he approaches her with his characteristic nonchalance. It’s nothing so disapproving as judgement, it must be said, merely an observation. She is still not sure what to make of the man, largely because some part of her is yet terrified that he knows, though he has said he won’t tell. It’s not like it was with —

— No one, actually. She didn’t divulge her secret to Lady Lyn, Lord Hector or Lord Eliwood either, though she trusts them far more than the archer. None of them called her choice “weird” before they so much as tried to understand it.

But then, being from Elibe, they knew of the Scouring. Perhaps she’s being unkind in recalling his first reaction, between that and his (unintentional) help in her growing closer to... to... ...

A consolation prize of sorts is one thing (indeed, the thoughtfulness is a point in his favor)... but sweeping an old friend off her feet? That’s much more than she’d credit herself with — wait, no, he knows —

“Ah...” she murmurs, thankful she didn’t accept the drink right away for she would no doubt have spilled it. “I...”

If she were wittier, if her heart were lighter, Ninian might have replied that she has a great many things in her. He didn’t know of her true form either, after all. But as she is, even the thought of making a jest, a — a wry thing out of what she is leaves her on the verge of nausea.

Quite abruptly, she reaches for the glass in his hand at last and takes a sip. Maybe not the best choice to steady herself — but it’ll do. At least in this dark, her red cheeks are less noticeable... She thinks. Hopes.

“Thanks for the drink,” she whispers, too quietly and after too long. She really ought to correct him, but much like the last time she doesn’t find words, eventually saying instead: “Although, I need no consolation. All I wanted was to teach Miss Silque how to dance... and I did that much.”

Amidst the bustle of the festival stalls, it’s easy to lose sight of the whole reason for the party. Python nudges his elbow into Forsyth’s side and tilts his chin upward.

“You seen the sky lately?”

Dusk has slipped toward night, casting the world in violets and blues. The stars glimmer up above. Among them, little flickering bursts of light magic have clustered together to form the words: MADE YOU LOOK!

Python chuckles under his breath and sneaks a kiss to Forsyth’s cheek.

“Crazy the sorts of stupid things people will pay money for, eh?”

The celebrations have been delightful, in no small part due to Python’s participation. His heart is full as they walk down the busy streets, their fingers entwined and affection on plain display. It’s a departure from Python’s usual relationship with romance, but Forsyth certainly isn’t complaining.

“Hm?” There’s been a variety of pretty magic shows in the air today; has Python commissioned one of them? He looks up, and...

Pfffft. Same old Python, after all. Forsyth sighs an exaggerated sigh, his mock expression of disapproval faltering at Python’s lips against his cheek. 

“Isn’t it?” Forsyth chuckles, leaning his head against Python’s shoulder as he watches the message slowly fizzle away. Ridiculous as always, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. “Next thing you know, they’ll have painted ‘gullible’ on the ceiling.”

(Fight) Some warriors bond through battle, but no owies allowed! So the festival committee has prepared a battleground for you and several hollow, non-damaging weapons that make a delightful squeaky sound when you hit stuff with them! (But what if we just watched and placed bets)

Camilla gave Python a playful nudge as Forsyth and Niles went up to spar with the silly squeaky weapons. "My money is on Niles getting him too flustered to move."

“Hey, strategy teacher. Does this feel kinda dangerous to you? I mean, this doesn’t look too far from the stuff they dump from the tops of castle towers.”

Golden oil froths angrily inside the sizable vat in front of them. The lingering smell from others dipping batter-covered treats inside of it is appealing, he has to admit. If he’s thinking of the ways that boiling oil can help during wartime, a trick like this could also make a lot of unappealing rations tastier. Some of the crap scrounged together in dusty catacombs still wouldn’t have been salvageable. But hey, no way of knowing unless you try, right? (No way of knowing what kinds of things your coworkers find funny unless you press, either.)

“...Anyway. This one’s for cooking food, not people, yeah?” He bends down and rips a handful of grass from the ground, then opens his palm to display it to his fellow Deer.

“Five gold if you take a bite of this after I fry it.”

Mark was no stranger to cooking methods like this, even if this was on a scale beyond what he had personally witnessed before. Dipping various foods in pots of flavored oil, melted cheese, or even chocolate was a traditional form of Ilian cooking, and something of a delicacy at that. He had to imagine the warmth provided a pleasant reprieve from the bitter cold in which they lived. It wasn't hard to imagine how it might have come about with that in mind.

This, though... it almost seemed like a perversion of that beautiful culinary art. The roiling oil was violent, angry, hissing constantly and occasionally spitting scalding droplets. One of them struck Mark's cheek as he leaned over the vat, causing him to quickly flinch backwards. Getting too close to this seemed like a recipe (pun not intended) for disaster, even if it wasn't being used quite in the way Python was suggesting.

"...That would be a bit cruel, wouldn't it? Boiling someone alive?" Not that Mark hadn't heard of such strategies being used, but he wasn't keen on enacting the same kind of violence that he'd seen Bern use against Sacaeans. It was one of the many reasons he had elected to take his leave from Bern's service.

"...Um, I have a bit of a sensitive stomach. I don't know if... b-besides, grass isn't edible. And it'll ruin your teeth. I guess frying it would probably make it softer, so that might be... less of a concern, but still..."

“Uh oh. Looks like there’s some trouble in paradise.”

Or sounds like, to be more accurate. A well-dressed woman is shouting at a knight not too far off. His equally loud requests regarding taking it easy and reminders that he’s on duty do little to quell the issue. Python snorts quietly. The crooked grin on his face suggests he isn’t too bothered by the whole affair.

“Who d’you figure messed up there? My gold’s on him. Looks the type to tell a girl that her behind does look big in her skirt.”

(Im)perfect teatime

Lex wasn't really the type to sit idly by and just while away his time doing nothing in particular. People-watching, though? Lex could definitely get behind that. Sure, they were technically on-duty, but watching over the populace of the monastery was relevant to guard duty, he was pretty sure. Just hanging out with a friend cracking a few jokes, having a nice time? Yeah, that could be a pretty alright time, even if Lex did happen to be on the clock. He didn't know the first thing about this Python guy, but so far, the man seemed pretty alright as far as Lex was concerned. He had the right sense of humor to get along pretty well with Lex.

"Aw, c'mon, we can't both bet on the same person," Lex objected, leaning back against the wall behind him as his eyes scanned the situation. "But shit, I don't think betting against you would work out too well. She looks pissed in a way you don't really get without a guy saying something particularly out of pocket. I mean, I guess there's plenty of people out there who'll act like they're in the right when they aren't, sure, but the way he's groveling to her... I dunno. Looks to me like he knows he screwed up every bit as much as she does. Wonder if he's actually sorry or if he's just trying to get her to stop yelling at him."

from this ask meme || please don't send me more i will die

lots!  his sentimental ass would do good with journaling, but it's not a hobby he'd ever get into because it makes him sit alone with his thoughts too much.  i don't have the insp to actually write an example but there's a few things i can think of

a letter to his dead family talking about how much he misses them.  one to his brother in which he writes everything he would have liked to share with him; one to his mother in which he tells her everything from his life that she may have wanted to see (such as becoming ivy's retainer); and one to his father in which he tries to suss out his very conflicted feelings towards the man.

a letter to ivy in which he expresses how much serving her has changed his life for the better, even if he's no longer in her employ, he's grateful to have that chance, and she deserves the thanks more than her father because the two of them learned to care for each other as people outside of the job as well

a letter to kagetsu confessing that he does miss him

from this ask meme || please don't send me more i will die

also asked by @aimlessarchery

they might have turned into a werewolf during epiphany

jk they still haven't gotten enough info to piece that one together for themself

honestly linhardt is remarkably self-aware for a teenager.  (even, dare i say, for a 22 year old post-ts).  i would say if anything, admitting that running away from their problems isn't a sound strategy is something that they're aware of pretty quickly, but they can't admit it to anyone until their a support with dorothea.  so… for the question sake… yeah, they can't admit that because that support is locked behind a timeskip (lol)

It isn't the best wine on the market—Python's wallet doesn't have the depth to manage that even if he'd wanted to—but it has a sweet scent and a rich red color. He doesn't know if it's to her taste, but the thorny rose painted on the label seems to suit her at least. "Y'know, as thanks for help with the chaperoning." He gives her a crooked smile. "And for not leaving me on that tower."

Camilla raises an eyebrow at Python's suspicious approach. Her suspicion quickly becomes surprise as he pulls out a bottle of wine and hands it to her. "Thank you." Camilla gives a warm smile. "It was a hard choice not to leave you up there." She teases as she takes the bottle.