#alphadrg

        The way they started speaking at the same time, often with the same syllable as the other. She rubbed the back of her neck, glanced down at the toes of her boots, rocked on her heels. Everything was... this was not how she had planned things to happen.

        But, no battle was won on Plan A.

        “I heard the same. I was... going to eat later, but if you have not, then yes.” If anything, it would give her something to muse over while she chewed her words and tried to figure out how she was going to apologize now that her original plans had been foiled.

        Alisaie looked up from the floor and met his eyes, her gaze awkward and meek. This was the other end of the hot-headed Red Mage: the insecure Elezen teen, still trying to figure it all out.

        NIMBLE BELLS FALL UPON NIMBLE BLADES OF GRASS,     and their  echo rings long and harmonious,   teetering on the edges of white cliffs until there is only the sunlight.   the warmth.  the day.   she is made manifest through the weeping trees and the white flora,   flickering between shapes as though she were any other earthly creature,  divine or no.   the matron takes form,  looking upon him with such beautiful sorrow.   

         ❛   to be hero to all,  you must know what it is to put your lance to rest. ❜    

Ordinarily, his sense of direction is not this disastrous. This is, however, not an ordinary situation- The deserts of Gyr Abania proved more treacherous and far too different from the Coerthan wastelands he knew and knew well, sand giving way into a tumble down one or the other side of a small ravine.

It was fortunate he had not lost consciousness or been fatally injured, but a broken arm was... Not something he wished to deal with right now. The scrapes across his face would heal, he’d (clumsily and painfully) reset the bone, but the fall had disoriented him and finding a way back up the cliff was proving to be a right pain in the arse, legs aching and blade so, so heavy upon his back. What little conjury he knew availed him naught, here. Somehow, he’d found a path up the cliff but found himself in unfamiliar surroundings- An abandoned and decaying hamlet loomed in the distance, but mirage or not, what good would a ghost town do him?

MAKE MY CHARACTER FEEL LOVED.

this wasn’t supposed to go like this / @alphadrg

There is a pain in how he moves. Tiredness in his eyes, Arms are crossed, expression pensive as he watches the snowfall outside -- A display long since standard in their fair and beloved land [ he briefly wonders if he’ll ever see flowers in Coerthas bloom again ].

But what is this? Footsteps approach and Haurchefant’s head raises. Lingering sorrow is shattered, a smile radiating through upon seeing just what he held in his hands. ❝ Is this for me? You spoil me, my friend. ❞ The gesture made is truly appreciated, and for a moment, the knight finds himself feeling lighter. What would he do without those ‘round him to support him, particularly during these moments? He didn’t know.

Voice is a murmur when he accepts the gift, eyes closing. ❝ Please, do forgive me for my recent downcast spell. In truth, I knew I wouldn’t be able to return to Camp Dragonhead nor fight at your side anew from the moment I awoke – Yet that does nought to abate how difficult it is.  ❞ A hand raises to where Ser Zephirin had struck him down, fingers lightly curling. Ah. Would the ache ever stop? He couldn’t say. Yet he would certainly not let this drag him down. No, there was much to do. Getting involved in battle might well be out of his reach now, but the ability to support those whom he cared for remained.

And so he would stay strong. For them. For himself. Lifting the mug to his lips and taking a small sip, the knight exclaims. ❝ This is delicious! You have outdone yourself once again! ❞ Hot chocolate made with him in mind -- Was there anything better? That tasted quite so sweet? Not even those working within his Father’s kitchens could hope to pull something quite so special off.

        “What you did was dangerous, rash, and by all means an absolutely terrible solution to what should not have ever been a problem.”

        Alisaie glanced guiltily down at her arm in the makeshift sling. No lasting damage had been done, of course, but it made the healers feel better if she kept it at some state of rest. If the Dragoon had not arrived in time to fend off the hulking beasts, there was a good chance she would not have been so lucky.

        “What is there to say? He is the pride of the Studium. He is a slow-moving, water-fearing tongue-twister with more book-smarts than practical, real-world knowledge. He thinks far too much before acting and that makes him easier to overturn than a leaf on a breezy day. He is arrogant, annoying, and an absolute prat.