Split off once more, Lilina finds herself in some room that is familiar in some way—some place she’s visited earlier in the dream maybe, only a tad bit more unsettling be it from height or the grim scene they had seen just days prior. By her side Dimitri and Emil. She knew little of either, but she was sure they would be valuable companions on their shared journey. She passes a glance over at them. Asking if Dimitri was alright would be redundant as he looked worse for wear. 

          “Well, it is in our best interest to rest up here while we can, we don’t know what lies ahead of us.” She offers Dimitri a small smile meant to be kind, but she can feel herself grimacing on the inside at his current condition. Perhaps Emil would be kind enough to lend them aid while they have a moment before the chaos.

          In this moment of peace, the conversation she had listened in on before they had set out sat with her. To lose a child... Stumbling was quite the word for it as she recalled the memory to be much more gruesome than that. But she supposes it could serve as some cruel metaphor for how quickly childhood innocence was thrown aside. Literary devices aside, she knew well how it felt to lose someone dear at a young age. Death was inevitable, but despite knowing this, the pain never truly goes away.

          As if musing to herself, she says aloud just before they begin their descent, “I wonder if we’ve been looking at this in the wrong way. Maybe she just needs time to heal. Or I wonder if there’s anything we may do to alleviate her grief.”

The children of this town take up jobs in the quarry to earn some pocket change. It’s dangerous work, but as you enter the bounds of the quarry, it’s just another day on the job. Some of you are perceived as “younger” children and are tasked with chipping away stone and sweeping up chalkos. Others are perceived as “older” children and get more responsibilities for their trouble, supervising the young ones and detonating explosives to make way for them. 2d3 Stone, 1d4 Chalkos, 1 Obol for every post. @blaydiud & @freedomarrow

On a scale from one to what in Naga’s holy name, Lucina would likely rate the scene before her a solid seven.

She is already mid-swing of a pickaxe she has never seen before now, startled by the way the way her strike reverberates up her arms as it connects -- as though she had not known she was doing so until, well, it happened. 

Huh.

Stone from the wall chips away, clattering to the floor. She stares down at it a moment before a familiar commanding voice shouts her name from somewhere a bit further down and she resigns herself to hefting the tool upwards again. 

Her pickaxe strikes again and she allows herself a glance around. To her left are two familiar blonde faces, both with their own assigned tasks. Eyes zero in on the thing in the nearest one’s hand.

*steals @blaydiud’s pegasus and runs*

When Claude first met a pegasus, it should have been in Fódlan. Creatures hailing from the coldest reaches of Faerghus are out of place where he grew up, the dry plains of Almyra that few wyverns even nest in. But his mother had been a pegasus knight in a previous life. While she was determined to leave her old life behind in Leicester, her pegasus Risey was one of the few exceptions. 

He was three or four when he first met that pegasus, to him a beast as massive as a wyvern when she stretched her wings. Claude remembers her most by how she felt in his small toddler hands: dense winter fur that came off in clumps in the spring, then shaved smooth in the summer. 

That pegasus is long-dead now, and her Almyran-blooded descendants live in luxury back in Maragheh. Still, the flock back home are lean and athletic, better suited for the climate they were born in. Claude sees an echo of Risey in Grimbelle: stocky and thick-coated, ideal for Faerghus winters and cold nights in Fodlan’s Throat. “She’s a beautiful animal,” he tells Dimitri warmly, already extending an open palm for her to sniff. “I hope the pegasus I end up with is half as stunning as her.”

@blaydiud

Despite his plethora of complaints the moment anyone suggested it to be true, Felix was--by default--Dimitri's keeper. It had been his brother's responsibility before his passing, and Rodrigue made no attempt to hide the pushing of that responsibility to Felix the moment Glenn was put to rest in the family tomb.

So imagine Felix's frustration when, upon his return to Garreg Mach, his training is interrupted by the gossip of fellow students mentioning a certain blond prince rushing to the infirmary upon return from some incomprehensible journey to another realm. Good gods above, he leaves for one season...

He doesn't stop his training early, but his duty compels him to leave the training sword and seek out the prince as soon as the sun sets. Felix assumes he will find Dimitri in his room--just beside his own--and he heads for the dorms, sweat cooling in the evening air as the sun disappears along the horizon. The closer he gets to the dorms, he faster his feet carry him, boots clicking along the paved walkway.

For reasons unknown to anyone else, a mother wyvern has rejected her newborn wyvern and refuses to care for it. The task is now up to some brave volunteers to acquire a friend for life… or the scars. [Grants Flying +1]

@blaydiud

It’s not even particularly unusual for a wyvern to refuse to care for their hatchlings. Much like dragons and unlike humans, a wyvern hatchling has all they need to survive right out of the egg. By all means, the young wyvern should be fine on its own, but just because it’s possible does not mean it should be expected. It is only under the care of others that the young are able to flourish.

Sophia crouches low to the ground and holds her hand out to the young wyvern, who snaps and hisses at the extended hand. 

“Um, little one...I will not...hurt you,” she says, although the tiny wyvern does not respond to her plea, except to hiss more. Sophia tilts her head, hair pooling on the floor. “...Do you...think I’m scary...? I think we’re...similar, though...”

The day of the so-called birthday bash comes far too soon, days passing like pages: in a blur and far too quickly, memories hazy like the words of a book read at the cusp of sleep. Some few moments stick out, but they are islands in the sea of thought, unique in their clarity. And then she is here, clad in the soft blue and softer, flower-decorated dresses she so favors, a silvery-blue mask with a butterfly's wing hiding her face from the world. Somehow, it seems to truly obscure her identity from the rest of the ball-goers. Excepting the others who came with her from beyond, only Sveinn seems to recognize her at a glance; neither Blake nor Meaghan seemed to know who she was until she opened her mouth.

Which means, of course, that when she spies a lone figure standing awkwardly to the side, she recognizes him at once.

"Di-!" Ah, no, even if the face is unrecognizable, the name most certainly is. Still, she waves as she approaches, so much more at ease within a crowd now than she had been back then (back when? ). "Dimimi," she greets him once she's drawn closer, a hand drawn to her mouth, the back of her thumb splitting her smile in twain. He looks different, somehow, his outfit less so ‘regal’ and ‘striking’ and more... more Dimitri. It is hard not to giggle, and so she simply does, for her laughter has ever been fraught with affection; derision is a stranger to her.

"What are you doing here?" Hands fall from her face to settle behind her back, fingers interlacing, a curtain of crimson falling over her shoulder with the cant of her head. "There are so many fun things to do here! Did you know that Meaghan has a knife throwing game? And ponies, tool Hee hee, they'd never have games like this at the academy!” 

Blink, blink. Oh! Perhaps that itself is the problem: there are too many games! Maybe he just doesn’t know where to start? Certainly, it would be her pleasure to drag him through wonder and festivity. Then and there, she decides that his smile is her goal. “Do you want to go and play one together? We could go dancing, too! Oh-- or even apple bobbing! Hee hee, what do you think?” 

//via self-indulgent prompts

"A tasty morsel? You flatter me, o venerated house leader! Give me that!" Crunch munch! Chomp chomp! Gobble gulp! Horf snarf slurp! Faster than the eye can see, Odin devours the meal presented to him. His teeth chew the pastry parts and juicy fruit in mere seconds, he swallows massive lumps at a time, then barely stops to take a breath before inhaling another bite. Not even the slightest consideration for table manners is shown, with Odin digging right in to shovel mouthful after mouthful of the Saghert and Cream until mere scraps remain in his bowl. Well, scraps, and whatever mess he makes. Blotches of cream and fruit juice paint not only the corners of his mouth, but spread to his cheeks and drip down onto the table. It's appalling to see; truly a dining hall nightmare.

At least Odin looks satisfied with his food.

On his face is the warm glow of delicious food. He leans back, eyes wistful and smile wide, before letting out a loud BRAAAAP! and patting his stomach. "Such confectionary bliss, such sublime sweetness! I... I can feel... Something... Something powerful... over... whelming... meeeee!"

In a sudden flash, the lax recline of Odin Dark comes to a complete stop. He jumps out of his seat and onto his feet, exclaiming all his mighty praise, "It was like an overactive volcano of flavor... Cream oozed into my mouth and became thickest lava... The crumble of the pastry like igneous rock shattering in the jaws of my titanic form! Were I not confined to the mortal realm, I would have mistaken the texture of this glorious treat for that of godly Ambrosia! Doth this recipe hath a name? If not, I shall give it one myself:

does your muse have any specific fears? where did those fears come from?

Starving, which is a rather practical fear for anyone to have. Soren doesn’t really act on this fear and even has a disinterest in most food, viewing eating like a chore.

Abandonment, specifically by Ike, but he’s pretty much over it. As much as he cares for Ike, he doesn’t need him to survive like he thought (although if Ike died rather than being just separated from him, it would take years to get over if he ever did).