#ashenprofessor

They haven’t spoken much with each other since the Ethereal Ball. Byleth had their own life now, and it certainly isn’t easy for Jeralt to squeeze out any leisure time for the both of them with how their duties and schedules are. But, he’d surely regret it if he didn’t at least try to make an effort, especially when it was their special day. 

Celebrating their birthday in Garreg Mach of all places… The Jeralt from their mercenary life wouldn’t think it to be possible. He isn’t a believer of ghosts and spirits, although he wonders if their mother would be happy, being able to watch over them and see them grow into the person they are today.

“Why don’t you tell me all about your time as a professor while we fish? I’m sure you’ve got plenty of stories to tell. We can even cook our catch together, if all goes well.”

It was little surprise when Jeralt knocked on their door early this morning. Byleth was already up and ready to go, fishing gear at the ready. They desired little more than to go fishing with their old man to celebrate such a day.

Byleth resists the urge to roll their eyes at his statement and gives him an unimpressed stare until he cracks. "Thanks dad" they say. It's not often they refer to Jeralt in such manner but today warranted the occasion. Holding up their gear they asked "Ready to go?"

It wasn't often they got to spend time with him between the Church sending him on missions all the time and their own duties teaching. Compared to their previous lives where they were consistently round one another, it made Byleth momentarily regret coming to the monastery but the benefits did outweigh the cons. No matter where they were, Jeralt always made time to spend the day with Byleth on their birthday.

Byleth wondered if they could go visit their mother's grave later. Their first birthday as a 'complete family'

In the rush to arrive, despite being a bit late the entrance was still absolutely packed to the rafters. Plus there were even more people in the hall beyond. Byleth sighed in resigned annoyance to the delay.

"hey!" They shouted as someone pushed into them from behind, everyone being jostled and forced forwards. Unable to stop the momentum, Byleth felt themself bash into someone else.

"I'm so sorry" They apologised "Oh sweet sothis" They had hit a glamorous looking lady, knocking her to the floor. "Here let me help you up" Offering a hand to pull her to her feet.

Well, at least the first fall of the night came later than her earliest ball memories. And this one isn’t entirely her fault technicall. Even if it is Lachesis’s heel slipping upon her pinks that ultimately knocks her out, the physical contact of another spurred her into tripping up in the first place.

The fall does not hurt that greatly either, partially thanks to the great girth of her ballgown. It allows Lachesis to immediately flick her head around in search for the perpetrator with eyes slightly ignited deep inside. However, the fires are soon to cool when the culprit is upfront and honest for the misdeed. The princess felt like she heard the other lady’s voice earlier as well - and with the distraught shout from earlier she could piece things together.

“It’s alright. My own fault for crowding these already crowded halls,” she affirms. Before taking the sea-haired woman’s offered hand, Lachesis briefly reaches back and brushes her hair with a glove, bringing her small, blonde bangs back to the front. 

Then she doesn’t leave the idle hand waiting, releasing a proper “Thank you,” as she is pulled up back on her feet. Admittedly, the other lady had a stronger grip than she expected, but it made getting back up all the more efficient.

Once standing once more, Lachesis gives a light smile while staring back at her tripper-turned savior. For someone who sounded very sorry for the trouble, her face did not show it that well…

Leanne feels confident, actually. Sephiran is a better dancer than he thinks, and she's adjusting to his style of movement. Surely, they can synchronize and find their groove in a way that will delight the judges and audience even more!

She takes Sephiran's hand, practically fluttering onto the stage and waving to those surrounding her before the music even starts. Oh, how her heart could burst with joy! Even the creatures composing the orchestra take note of her greeting, and she hopes it helps ease their anxiety at their newfound sentience.

The music they play lends itself well to her and Sephiran's steps. She finds herself leading, and integrates her wings in a way that does not overshadow his lack. She even lifts him into the air at a point that corresponds to the rise and fall of the music, a feat that certainly tires her but wows the judges considerably.

It is an energetic and inspired dance, something that comes more of spirit than of practice, but it shines in a way that takes the audience's breath away and earns the duo raucous applause and impressive scoring from the judge. She knew they could do it!

Style: 9, Choreography: 5, Technique: 9, Total: 23!

Taming giant birds [Max 2 muses per thread] - Success related to muse’s Flying rank. E = 50% chance of being injured per post. D = 40% chance. C = 30% chance. B = 20% chance. A = 10% chance. S = 0% - Benefit to team: currently unknown

     The number of suspicious looks from the villagers have increased ever since their allies entered into the dream world. While it’s not anything Andrei is unused to, given his status in the monastery, it’s somehow... different, considering their task at hand. As it is, they can hardly even head in the general direction of the buildings their allies are housed in without the muttering increasing around them.

     Uninterested in provoking more hostility, Andrei decides to head in a different direction, towards the stables that house the great birds he’d seen a few times over his stay in Rusalka. The villagers had told him they were for self-defense, but against what exactly, he hasn’t yet found out. Partway to his destination, he runs into a familiar face, one that he’d seen during their earlier round of introductions.

     “...Professor,” Andrei greets carefully, with a scrutinizing gaze at the other. Nothing that they’d mentioned during their introduction suggests the two have any common ground between them, but he supposes as part of the guard, civility is the best route to take. “Are you headed to the stables as well?” he asks, “With how mistrustful the villagers seem to be at the moment, I thought it best to offer whatever aid we can.” Perhaps gaining some goodwill can keep their sleeping allies safer as well.

Adopting an apologetic face, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you” Receiving a short nod in return, they turn their attention to the plant the professor had been examining. “It’s very pretty” 

Anankos agreed with their assessment, though perhaps their carnivorous comment may not have gone down too well. Opps. “I’m sure it’s fine, just a comment on how the edge of those flowers look” Byleth said in a reassuring tone. The fellow professor was a nervous soul it seemed. They’d have to be more careful with what they said. 

Curious about the flowers, Byleth reached out their hand towards it . . . 

Anankos continues to stare quietly at the flowers, perplexed and mystified by their strange beauty. This garden was full of dangerous things and yet they could not help but be drawn in by the splendor of it all. It was far too beautiful for them to ever be able to avert their many eyes, but one wrong step and they could easily wind up dead. Somehow, it reminded them of Cadros on the battlefield, beautiful but all too dangerous at the same time.

Crack.

Group D rolls 5 AP Nightmares move: Wall Sections 30, 27, 25, 20, 9, and 7 all lose -1HP

The timber Python had collected (or watched Caeda collect, mostly) is crushed into splinters beneath reaching, shadowy claws. They rend at the southern wall of the village right up near one of the homes, tearing at it with a beastly ferocity. They're coming for the houses. For the people inside. The bow in Python's hands crackles to life, the thunder magic within it humming beneath his hands. He cannot make out the bodies of the nightmares swarming outside the walls from here—he can only guess at the shape and size of whatever is attached to those glowing eyes.

Python attacks Miasmic Slime (9,16) from (10,15) with Stunner. 1d20 roll: 2. Barely Hit! (-2HP) Miasmic Slime’s HP: 1/3

He guesses wrong. A blinding light in the darkness—electric blue sparking along the monster's silhouette in a flash while the arrow itself flies just past its mark. The hum beneath his hands quiets for a moment as it gathers the energy to fire again. Claws reach out in the dark again. There's no time to wait. He grimaces and reaches for another bow.

Python attacks Miasmic Slime (9,16) from (10,15) with Guard Bow. 1d20 roll: 17. Hit! (-2.5HP) Miasmic Slime’s HP: 0/3 Miasmic Slime (9,16) has been defeated! Miasmic Slime drops 1 Red Dream Crystal!

This time, he finds his mark. A sharp howl, and then an iridescent burst of light. Where there was once a shadow, a scarlet crystal shimmers in the grass. More shrieking echoes in the dark to his left. The wall shudders beneath his feet. Another flash of glowing eyes and clawing hands—another shot in the dark.

Python attacks Miasmic Slime (11,16) from (10,15). 1d20 roll: 5. Barely Hit! (-1.5HP) Miasmic Slime’s HP: 1.5/3

Another scream adds to the chorus, but the wood continues to wobble underfoot. He stumbles, unable to ready another shot.

"Guys?!" He shouts out to whomever may be nearby to listen. "Sounds like we’ve got another friend to the west!"

LORENZ TIRES OF UNEXPLAINABLE PHENOMENA. For once, he would like to walk into a waking dream and not find it to be an incomprehensible nightmare.

As usual, order is a little too tall of an order.

The air is stale, and he’d venture to call the taste in the back of his throat metallic, if only for the surroundings eliciting such an observation, biased as it may be. He walks with purpose because there is no other choice but to keep his head held high. There are echos, in the back of his mind, to the sights inside the behemoth of a tree where he’d last seen anything with more than a passing resemblance to… this.

At his side: familiar faces, one small mercy. At their front: a stranger, but at least not one that seems intent on leading them to their demise. A glance is offered three ways, cast between his companions, the echo of unease in his expression gone as the woman addresses them directly as she leads them deeper and deeper.

“—Please understand just how grateful I am for the Verne to send you all here,” is easy enough to follow, although Lorenz elects to hold his tongue at the myriad of questions just one statement raises. And, for good measure, he is lucky goodwill is not expended on making a fool of himself when they pass into another room, for it beholds—

—Corpses.

Encased in glass, as though on display like trophies.

“Archivists were always in short supply, but your jobs are more important now than ever before. I’ll get you settled in shortly…”

It takes all force of will for Lorenz to smile, then, the same diplomatic neutrality he’s wielded like a suit of armor as he meets their guide’s gaze. There is a noticeable strain to keeping his shock in check. “Please, pay it no mind—it is our duty and our honor.”

(Whatever that duty and honor may be. Another glance at his compatriots—an urging to play along, till they can speak freely.) To the… corpses, a nod of acknowledgment. “This is a rather large… collection.”

The gambit works, at least for the moment. “Not nearly as impressive as the Verne's, I'm sure! Though... I believe we at the Asimov have a greater percentage of AIs in our collection than yours. You truly have your work cut out for you here... but I'm incredibly grateful all the same. "Have you visited us before?"

TOA Electric Sheep thread continued from here

“Ah...” Shaken by these events, Pia can’t help but sit down when Lorenz pushes her into the chair. It hurts so much, she’s never been shot before. Panic runs amok through her mind—why is this happening? Does the military want the Schwartzes that much? That they’re willing to kill for it?

Pia looks to the Verne archivists, an innocent party in all of this, here because they volunteered their time and expertise. And then to the AIWOU unit behind them, unmoving in spite of the commotion. Rex... no, L-431475... she can’t imagine how he is processing this. He would return to his original mission, but to turn against his creators...

“No. I must do this.” Tears streaming down her cheeks, Pia pushes herself up again, returning to the terminal. Her good arm pulls out a drawer, searching for a portable terminal. They can take the Schwartzes and flee. They might not have a chance alone, but with him...

On the computer, she pulls up a new window. Assign Administrative Access. Plugging the portable terminal into the computer, Pia shouts back at the others, “Bring me Rex! I must do this!”

Soren picked up Rex and approached Pia, holding the metal dog close, as if it was real. "Inactive, hm? You'd better explain why he moves when we aren't here, and why you lied to us about it." He held Rex out to her, but stayed close enough to snatch the dog away if she posed a threat.

"I couldn't tell you." But the jig is up, and there's no time for any of this. Pia sighs.

 "Yes, there is an AI in there. But he was there before the virus manifested," Pia adds defensively. "This is L-431A75. Esteemed archivists such as yourself should know the historical significance of Laelaps."

“Now give him to me. Please!”

As important as that name should be to them, it doesn’t ring any bells. Soren acts curiously surprised, wary of blowing their cover even though they were likely to part ways imminently by the way Pia hurried.

"Laelaps?" He handed Rex over, watching her closely still. "He'd better be useful."

For the first time, you see the AIWOU's camera eyes look directly at you. Seems like you've offended him.

Soren folded his arms, used to dealing with a stubborn dog. “Don’t give me that. The only trick I’ve seen you do is ‘play dead.’”

"He will," Pia promises, snatching the AIWOU out of Soren's hands. She pulls out cables from the drawer, wincing through the pain as she connects L-431475 to her computer.

"A portable terminal." She hands him a large, somewhat-heavy metal box with a keyboard on it. "And a universal adapter designed for AI transference." Yet another cable, shoved into Soren's hands. "Get yourselves into the Schwartzes and flee as far as you can. So long as you're in those mechs, you'll be safe in there. And, if worse comes to worse, those Schwartzes still have their AI compatibility intact. Laelaps will be able to fight for you."

A message already appears on the portable terminal:

[L-431475] This will be difficult in my current form. [L-431475] But if you lend me your aid, I promise that I will protect you.

“Alright. We don’t have a lot of options, and Pia has confidence in you.” Soren adjusted his grip for a more comfortable hold on the cable and portable terminal (Lae-Laptop?) and looked to Pia. “You coming?”

If she wanted to go out with some heroic sacrifice, he wouldn’t stop her. In fact, he didn’t much want to trust the AI she’d given them either, but if this Laelaps could save their lives, that was all he cared about. It wouldn’t make sense for Laelaps to not fight alongside them for his own self preservation considering it coincided with their own.

By the high alert status of the building, they didn’t have seconds to waste.