#aymrtyr

   the moments elongate as his intense gaze bores into the tree, until finally a silhouette bounds from its hiding place, landing deftly onto the dirt path with a whisper of a thud. up rears its head with its big, beady, black gaze, the long, thick-furred tail twitching behind its demure form. at which point, albi’s palm presses firmly into his brow, and a sigh passes his lips at the squirrel that was now scampering away into the darkness. 

   “... haha... ha.” his shoulders relax as he forces the laughter past, but his head shakes all the same. ( really? a nutkin? i must really be on edge. ) “well, guess it’s good ta know there’s still like... other animals about in all this?”

and @nellacerniere​, @ybetweenx​ for also sending this in! y’all valid. 

🍉  :    which of the four seasons suits my muse best,  and why?  

they could be star-crossed, these two. not star-crossed lovers, no, but star-crossed something. enemies, perhaps, but at some point the fighting grows tiring and poison must be spat out before it can fester. before it’s his own soul left to dry out there on the battlefield, trampled like all the rest.

but they aren’t on the battlefield this time and what’s important: he survived. he’d faced down the might of the imperial army, with its harrowing emperor at their helm and he’d bargained for their survival and succeeded. peace was a thing within reach, and when he’d flown away to take his place at almyra’s head, khalid’s mind was racing through a hundred thousand ways he could grab it in his hands.

then, this. then, much later, so coincidental khalid is inclined to believe there are actual gods in this land as well and they are playing with him: edelgard, precisely as he remembers her, crimson bathed, daunting, ethereal. a woman who could only exist half in dream, half in nightmare.

(  he won’t say which.  )

khalid clears his throat.  “  well.  ”

so many paths are playing out in his head, a myriad of branches fanning out in all sorts of directions and it makes his head hurt, all the possibilities, all the ways in which this could mean terrible and wonderful things. the worst part about his mind is that it never stops, even when his temples start throbbing and his teeth are grinding behind his closed lipped smile. some part of him will always be that kid, afraid of doing the wrong thing because doing so means pain, and hate.

yet what could possibly be the right thing, in this ?

khalid’s body coils itself into an easiness he does not feel, and so convinces himself he does. he grins at edelgard, slow and easy  –––  the same grin when she walked up to him, between the pillars, and he’d swallowed his nerves just as he’d learned to swallow the sun. with a smile, and never blinking.