#arcstral

“Why, if it isn't.  .  .Xane! What a pleasant surprise!”

An old friend. Another ally reunited on Fódlan shores. The occasion is first and foremost a happy one, though Marth cannot deny the curiosity of seeing the elusive manakete manifesting here of all places when he’d proven scarce even in their native Archanea. On that note, he smiles on a moment of contemplation.

“It has been a long time, my friend. Too long." Long to humans but short for the dragonkin, the Altean royal could only imagine. To those of the world's most primordial race who see the long-flowing years as mere minutes trickling by. Nevertheless, his friendly words continue without missing a beat. "If I may ask, what brings you so far from Archanea? Naturally I cannot hold you to any one place, but whatever your plans, I would be happy to find you here in the days to come.”

Xane whips around, heart rate skyrocketing with adrenaline- no way he's scarcely been here a week he's not that fortunate to see-

"Princey! Heya!" He practically forgets himself, nearly tripping over his own feat in his haste to come over (completely forgetting to be aloof and unbothered for the moment). There's no mistaking that friendly smile (though you could easily mistake the blue hair and lordly-ness. too many of those around here)

"Ah hah- I've just been traveling, here and there ya know? shouldn't I be asking you that? don't you have a kingdom to run?" just as quickly as he lost himself, he's back on the ball and as easy going as ever. he gently elbow's Marth "Then again I can't blame you for wanting to learn more. I'm probably here for the same reason as you- heard about all the knowledge packaged here and wanted to come see it for myself! All the better to find some familiar faces. I'll probably be sticking around for a bit, so get used to seeing me! or maybe even another one of you~" he snickers, clearly already of a mind to cause plenty of trouble using his old commander's face.

Inside, Xane has two competing thoughts:

One is that he's overjoyed to see his old friend hale and happy- Marth is one of the reasons he set Fodlan as his destination after all. He'd been admittedly curious about how the Hero King was fairing, and had wanted to ride on his coat tails just a little longer.

Two is that he left Archanea for a reason, that reason being he was getting too attached. It had gotten to the point he'd known most of the army by name, between the tactics that required borrowing different forms left and right to the community that was fostered between them all as they marched to keep their spirits up... all Xane could ever think about in those days was the growing anxiety of how quickly his new comrades lives would be snuffed out, be it by the blade of steel or time.

Thanks to this, what should be a purely lighthearted and joyful occasion has nerves turning in Xane's stomach... hopefully not literally turning, he doesn't need to untie his organs again thankyou very much. He resolves to quickly set all of those thoughts aside lest they begin to show on his face, princey is too attentive for his own good really. After all he's a part of the blue lions, same as Marth apparently, so he'd better get used to it.

(Strangely enough, his is not the first page in her journal. It comes after not only Kris, but Rody, Luke, and Gordin -- all of the original members of the Seventh Platoon (chronology separates Cecille from the others), as though she had been putting off writing it as long as she could. As with Kris, the page has turned soft at the corners, though it retains more of its original crispness toward the middle. It gives the impression of a page looked at often, but with great care.)

Their bond was something beyond words. Though this Marth did not know him as his Emblem counterpart did, there was a sort of intimacy, a fellowship beyond what little time they'd had just yet together.

The battle had been fierce, and although Zelkov was confident that they were more than a match for roaming bandits, the kiss against his cheek of relief that there were no casualties comforted him. He put an arm around Marth, steadying him. Perhaps the kiss had been a sign that he too was fatigued.

"We are *victorious* once more, but I am in agreement. Too many calls are *close.*"

Roy could talk quickly, and he often did when going through possible battle plans. He tried to keep himself dignified and a little subdued. Cool-headed was the way to think through strategy, but his mind raced and it showed. As he was talking aloud over a map with lots of little game pieces, occasionally scooting them around, Marth kissed him midword.

Roy completely lost his train of thought, grinning when Marth pulled back. His heart raced in his mind's stead and he somehow managed to string a few words together as he glowed in a surge of fondness for him.

"I would say that is a plausible distraction tactic, however, few could render someone breathless as you do." A pause for a light laugh, wondering how he got to be so fortunate to be this close to Marth, to have a comfortable rapport. He knew how polite distance and loneliness could seep into relationships, how sometimes in his lowest points, in secret, he selfishly wished he wasn't a lord so he could be closer to others. At least he knew that with Marth, he never had to worry about that.

Edelgard would pull the lever herself if it meant saving more people. If someone must be sacrificed, it is better for one person to fall than five or more. While this means placing their fates in her own hands, she is willing to step up. To stand by and do nothing is worse. She'd rather a singular victim be had now than the countless others that could be had if she did not pull the lever and change it. She holds a disdain towards the idea of keeping things as they are- Allowing the trolley to stay on its current course. While there would arguably be blood on her hands due to this decision, it's something she is willing to take.

She is of a mindset that the ends justifies the means. Pulling the lever would benefit the majority. This kind of dilemma ties into a lot of Edelgard's general actions and thought processes as a person too, one example being her whole thing with Monica in 3 Hopes.

"I was under the impression that those who slither in the dark needed you quite badly. And as I required their strength to wage my war, I was prepared to look the other way. When we laid out our plans, your death was something we took as a given."

A local village lays abandoned, pillaged and burned before your allies came along. From what remains, it may seem eerily similar to the village “Teleos” on the other side. It’s likely that the villagers abandoned this place and burned what remained on their way out, but you may be able to salvage something usable from the wreckage.

3d2 Wood per post

Mouth dry, Lyn looks upon the charred ruins of a local village. This had once been a place full of life; families living in their homes, children playing on the streets, and merchants peddling wares in their shops. It is deathly silent now, except for the sound of three pairs of boots stopping on the stone pathway.

They’re already too late.

If they had come a little sooner, perhaps they could have stopped whatever transpired that lead to the village burning. If not stopped, then they could have at least found a way to ease their suffering somewhat. There is nothing left now, not a single person they can ask about what happened here to make every villager leave.

There is no honor in scavenging wood from a ruined village. Even so, their commanding officer has still sent them here to strip the remains like vultures searching for carrion. Even if their army lacks supplies, there should be no need to do this. Lyn clenches her fist, fingers white inside of her gloves.

“I will admit I don’t feel good about this,” she confesses to the two blue haired monarchs accompanying her. “Even if the villagers have already evacuated, to strip down what remains of their homes for resources...”

3d2: 1, 1, 1. 3 wood obtained!

A warning laid out in velvet and red greets them — A gruesome sight, no doubt purposefully so, like heads on pikes, rictus screams ringing hollow into the air. At first, Edward just winces in sympathy and concern (wait, who's the real tyrants here?), but as his gaze lingers, the king's face shifts; To King Dheginsea, felled in the tower, to King Ashnard, whose likeness he'd seen only in portraits, to Pelleas, a thought already making him blanch, and then —

Silver hair. Kent runs a hand over golden eyes, closing them in feigned peace. Stifling a gasp, Edward tears his gaze away.

Their goal lies beyond. Already, her face melts away like ice in his palms. Already, he can no longer recall the fallen king's face, and that's all he needs to carry on. It's easier to forget on the march, anyways, even if it's into dense forest, denser fog, and possibly a pretty dense crowd of enemies.

In between marching and searching and forgetting, though, Edward strays slightly ahead of their merry little group...

"Guh-huh?!" And that distance is all he needs to make a misstep, feet losing their hold as a sharp incline in the terrain sends him sliding down a small, abrupt slope, the snow and fog obscuring the drop from sight. The selfsame snow, though, keeps his tumble from being too rough, and when he reaches the bottom, he lets out a winded laugh of something like delight.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" He calls back up, turning around as he does so, "I just slipped, so watch —" and the face of the little slope he'd had his tumble down catches his eye. Stones of myriad colors and shapes are embedded in the exposed dirt, perfect to make firecrackers with and Goddesses know what else.

"Oh snap, there's a ton of rocks here! Can we take some?" The swordsman immediately sets about wrestling a hammer from his belt, poking around the frozen dirt in hopes of loosening it...

roll: 18; 2. obtained 2 rocks!

roll: 8. -2 HP. 8/10 HP!

"Ow!" While two perfectly-sized rocks fall from the wall, ripe for collecting, more dirt loosens further up, the frozen block of it sliding down the slope and beaning him in the the face, leaving him with a smarting nose, muck in his mouth and a cold forehead. "Ewww..."