#aitheriohs

              The hours before a battle were dreadful to Marc, on all fronts. He itched to be on the field and away from the contentedness and ease that the rest of the Shepherds radiated. Perhaps he was considerably more like a disease or a pestilence, than that of a person. Surely someone who’d done as horribly sickening acts of treason such as himself wasn’t all that deserving of living in this camp, surrounded by people whose bloody faces were scornfully burned in to his memory. Not once did he bat an eye then, nor does he do so now--- at least not unless directly approached.

              Every one of the shepherds were merely strangers to him, hardly friends at all. There was one person though, outside of his sister that Marc felt some strange affiliation towards. It wasn’t a parental bond the way Morgan saw it. He was too distanced from such a feeling of endearment by this point... by what he’d been through. And although his sister was blessed with the loss of her memories, he on the other hand was very aware of where they came from and what they had been through. Morgan’s smile though--- gods had he missed such a sight on her face. He would do anything to keep it there, to keep the dark clouds of their past from rearing it’s ugly head and undoing all of this progress she had made.

              So, of course Marc was absolutely livid when talk of their ‘father’, (if Marc could even call the figure who resembled his Master such a thing) having drugged Morgan in order to convince her to sleep. It sickened him and more than anything made his blood boil. To the entire camp since their arrival Marc has kept himself at as much of a distance as possible from anyone. He just seemed to be the studious type, always reading his books and studying strategics... Like father, like son is what they would say. Today that was different as he marched through the camp with a leather-coated tome (no one needed to know what foul magic lay inside of that book) and his Levin Sword strapped to his waist. Would this be a betrayal? It had to be... For what he was about to do to his ‘father’ for what happened to Morgan.

                 Ether’s tent was one of the few distinguishable ones in the camp. Of course it was, he was their lead strategist. One long, deep breath was taken to compose himself--- to feign that innocent look that he’d done so well at keeping across his features unless he was on the battlefield. He entered the tent, just enough to glance inside and make sure Ether was there and to catch his attention. “ Father--- Not to be a bother, but I had an idea for a new strategy... I was wondering if you would come with me so I can show you it? “ 

         “It’s a little difficult to explain, Father! But both Marc and I don’t really care for cheese...or any dairy products as a matter of fact.”

“Wooow, this camp really is huge. It’s always as big as Nohr.” His eyes were filled with wonder, looking at his surroundings as he mumbled who he found to better remember the new group he was in. “Chrom... Stahl... Gaius... M-.” He stops once his eyes catch a younger tactician, fear and shame forming in the pit of his stomach. He attempts to shake it off and hopes the other didn’t notice, focusing back on him with a nervous smile. “I didn’t expect Chrom to allow me to join you all so easily. I was expecting some interrogation from him, you know?”

         “Aha...ahahaha...this is fine...I’m fine...we’re fine...” No, her father did NOT just give his prized tactics book to someone else. Instinctively, she clutches her own book, one that was far more tattered and falling apart at the seams. It was a gift from her father in her own timeline, but if he was giving it to Saihara now...did this mean Morgan wasn’t going to get it later? Her father really was favoring this outsider more than she and Marc. Was he going to name him the new tactician of the Ylissean army? Was he finally starting to see Morgan as useless? Third place to her brothers? All those ploys for his attention...and this...this boy gets it just for being there. All this hard work, and it was slowly crumbling away before her eyes.

         “...”

IM IN CLASS SO I CANT REPLY BUT THIS?

// @aitheriohs

Saihara lets out a childish cry as he attempts more and more to squirm away from his adoptive father’s grip, stopping only because he decided to take hold of his cheek. “Daaaad.” He responds in a whining tone. He felt like a child when he was stuck like this, trying once more to shake the older male off. “H-Hey, I know how to clean myself up!” He’s used to cleaning Faceless blood off him before, surely Risen blood was no different.

Saihara's body was bloody and bruised, but he knew this wasn't a fight he can back out of just yet. While he didn't expect to come back home to a cloudless sky, but he also didn’t think he’d come back in the middle of an actual war with Hoshido. He was used to hearing about the small skirmishes, but not full on attacks, but less being in the middle of one.

Of course he volunteered ( and was dragged ) to be a part of this. He learned from his travels, he was better at what he does now than before he left. While a small part of him hoped that someone would stop Garon’s rule, he still wanted to protect his home. His family.

He trusted that the troops had listened to him, that was his final thought before nearly crashing into someone. Right away he knew it was someone from Hoshido, but something else was familiar. Their face and the way they moved in battle, some of it he has seen before. He knew stopping in the middle of a fight was a dangerous move, but all his training seemed to leave him at that moment.