There's a sinking feeling in her chest. It feels cold. The smile drops away.

"...but you are, Dwyer."

She is not mistaken. She knows, without a doubt, that there is no way she was wrong or confused. She is not actually so callous as to forget or misremember her friends, even if they might think as much of her.

"Are you displeased with me over something? This is hardly a funny joke." One that was not at all in character for what she knew of her friend. He was sharp, but he was never cruel. "If this is about-"

if there is another me.

Mitama's teeth clack together as she abruptly shuts her mouth. The sinking feeling has solidified into a rock that squeezes against her lungs. There could not be another of anyone. But fate did not always set those who walked down the same path.

○○○○○ | ATTRACTION ●●●○○ | AFFECTION ●●●●○ | INTEREST ●●○○○ | LOYALTY ●●●○○ | TRUST

LOW | ●●●●● | HIGH

It's still so difficult to believe that Jakob actually had a child of his own, let alone a child like... Dwyer. That isn't to say that there's anything about Dwyer Flora finds unbecoming or unsuitable ( despite the horrid things she's heard him say about his own son ) but that he's just so different from his father. Flora has always been fond of Jakob, despite herself, but in this respect, she can definitely say the difference is for the better. Dwyer is a sweet boy, even with his dour personality and unkempt appearance. Whenever she crosses paths with him, she's always sure to try to make sure he tidies up a bit.

There's an implicit trust and understanding between the two of them, not only as fellow servants, but as Flora sort of sees him as a nephew or godson of sorts. She's very fond of him for this reason and tries to look after him where she can, and even if she can't be too defensive of him when he's criticized, she's always sure to try to perk up his day a bit afterwards with a cup of tea.

dwyer keeps an extensive list of all the birthdays in the army. at the top is lady corrin's, of course, followed by shigure's, then cynthia's, lutz's, ophelia's... all dates are accounted for and are prepped for appropriately. not ranked by personal importance, of course.

but one name has only recently made it on to the time-worn paper he carries around, hastily scrawled in an ink different than the rest. he'd picked it up offhand. the girl who swore she remembered him where he had not remembered her, name perched just beneath the last of the army's.

and so, as her name is on his list, he must prepare something for her birthday.

he comes with a small box, neatly wrapped with a bow on top. all dwyer-done, of course. " i hope the coffee we shared was a little more enjoyable, " he mutters in good humor. " if it wasn't, then you're in luck. this ought to help you. "

inside the box is a pillowcase folded into a small square. " people have talked about how much you sleep. and i can respect that, being a fellow sleeping agent. " ha-ha. sleeping agent. " so i made you a pillowcase. but that's not all.

" if you give the case a little sniff, you'll find it smells lightly like coffee. i did a little dwyer magic to make the fabric smell like it. " a wink, but it's very slow and very dwyer-like. " with any luck, it'll subliminally wire your brain to like coffee more. not that i'm trying to hypnotize you on your birthday or anything... but, well. anyways... happy birthday. "

"Hello, Dwyer. You would be correct, actually."

It still stung, but that feeling was easier to ignore now when she turned to great the familiarly unfamiliar student. He had already unknowingly dismissed the worse fear, and though she might have liked to smile and joke with him as easily as before it...it was what it was.

That made his gift all the more surprising. For a second, she wants to throw an accusation - do you really not remember doing this exact scene before? - before the feeling passes. Mitama takes the box with a smile.

"The coffee was enjoyable, even if still not quite to my tastes." Bitter. The nap she had been planning to take that afternoon ended up not happening - she fell asleep at what others would claim to be a reasonable time, in fact. Ugh, horror of horrors. "Oh? And what exactly does a clever mind as yours think may assist me with-"

A pillowcase. He made her a pillowcase. An unknowing, matching set to the hand embroidered quilt she still has in her room. She wonders if it is the Dawn or Dusk that laughs at her in that moment.

"Does it work even still if the scent of coffee keeps me from sleeping?" A joke. She opens the box to inspect his gift carefully. When she pinches a corner of it to lift it up, it is softer than any cloud. And, as described, the faint hint of coffee greets her when she lifts it to her face.

Volcano appeased / tribute lives another day / both dormant, slumber.

♡ ˚·   @apathynoir asked:

"lady ishtar?" dwyer is leaning against a chair, far enough from his cot that it's obvious he isn't supposed to be here. the gods only know how he managed to get to where he is, blind as he's become. he does his best to face her. even if he wasn't---it's hard to tell with no voice to search for---the resolute turn of his lips and his hardened browline speaks to his attempt. "i heard that the eagles lost our round... and that you were brought to the infirmary." hands guide up the spine of the chair until he stands straight. "i know that this wasn't a true battle... but you were still injured, and i did not do my part to soothe those wounds. i did not play my part as butler appropriately." his words steep in regret, and he bows so quickly that he almost hits his head on the side of the chair he'd steadied himself on. "please allow me to extend my deepest apologies," he voices with urgency. "i only wish that i could have kept you more safe. one day, i would like to make up this blunder to you over coffee---if you'll have it."

Ishtar peers up at him from where she sits, gaze too heavy for a girl who just fumbled on an inconsequential battlefield. It isn't that simple for her. In every place that she cannot find the perfection that mother raised her to be there is mourning, and Ishtar has begun to feel sickened by the familiarity of that feeling.

But for him, this stranger she had only met hours ago, to bring his shame before her... She shakes her head once, coaxing her features into a small smile.

"You needn't ask my forgiveness," her voice is gentle. "Yours was a valiant effort, and without you I have no doubt my fate would have come far sooner."

Emotion washes over her like déjà vu. Watching him worry for her so, a reminder of the kind of care and devotion she had once known from another man in another life, it kindles a fondness in her tired heart.

"Please do not hold yourself responsible for that which cannot be changed, not for me." Her head tilts. "But, if your offer still stands, coffee sounds nice."

//via birthday asks; still accepting!

"Oho, so you saw through my disguise..."

Odin spins on his heel, meeting the expectant gaze of Jakob's son with a mischievous smirk. He is the first to have remembered Dark's birthday, and as such, bears the burden of having to watch the attention get to his head.

He snatches the sword-shaped biscuit without a second thought, and as it is brought a few inches from his nose, he narrows his gaze to inspect it.

"Hmm..."

The gears turn inside his head. They tilt on their axle as Odin spins the biscuit. They spin in reverse as he flips it this way and that. "I think..." he muses, zeroing in on its features to gain an understanding of its purpose, "Something... Is... Coming... To... Me....!"

CHOMP!

He takes a bite, and instantly inspiration strikes. If the features on his face are each a piece of kindling, then Dwyer's baking is the spark to ignite a column of fire. They light up with surprise and delight in equal measure, moved to theatrics by the velvety taste on his tongue.

"URAAHH! The slight curvature to the blade's edge is like the cleaving of hoarfrost on a cold winter's day... Its speared point is an icicle, seeking the hearts of the condemned to condemn them further! It is fearsome... It is frigid... It is the Sub-Zero Saber of Unending Vengeance!!"

The entire speech is, naturally, spoken with half a mouthful. But as Odin flings the rest of the biscuit down his hatch, he continues--and his speech manages to become even less intelligible.

"Odin Dark thanks you for your service! By ingesting the sacred power of these weapons, I shall grow a thousand thousand times stronger--all in preparation for my final birthday battle!"

The rest of the tray enters his grasp now, each cookie soon to be tried, tasted, and given a gigantic splendor of a name like the Saber. But before he can scamper off, he points an index to Dwyer. His eyes have gained a slight air of severity.