#bluebloodedpride

Perhaps that is why he is seeing her now, her form restored as if it'd never been touched by the power of a mad god. Fernand makes little attempt to disguise his approach, a breeze stirring as boots come to a halt in golden sands. "...Lady Rinea. I hadn't thought you would be here as well." (2/2)

     How long would this dream last? She didn’t want to complain and favored a life of routine, but day after day felt the same, monotonous and dull. Rinea would step out to watch the waves that seemed to bring in the same washed up shells as yesterday and the day before that. Unless this was her purgatory before passing into the afterlife. People from the past had been cropping up, but none to haunt her, if anything, it seemed she was the one doing the haunting.

    When she wishes for a new tide to turn over, the island had a funny way of granting her wish. A voice calls out to her and she freezes. Her head turns slowly.

    “Ferna—Sir Fernand... I...” Was he alive? Or was it smoke and mirrors? Smoke, its tendrils were caught in her lungs, choking her of words from the inside out. She takes a step back, then another. 

    It was to no fault of his, but Fernand’s horrified face was the last conscious memory she had that night. She remembers that much all too well. Her soul was stolen as she was forced into nothing more than a weapon, a sacrifice to quell a mad god’s insatiable hunger.

Task board: For the Crabolution | Grants Swords +1 | @bluebloodedpride

    Daylight was beginning to dwindle as dusk begins to settle in, only leaving the subtle golden glow of candle’s light strung in chandeliers above each table in the mess hall. There was to be a great seafood feast; crabs, prawns, and bread were all to be placed along the lengths of tables on a bed of lettuce. The students and professors were to gather and enjoy a warm and refreshing meal before curfew strikes and everyone retreats to their respective places.

    The smell of various spices and steam rolls through the room, the chairs, dinner rolls, and prawns were all set in place for the evening. The only thing missing was the hungry mouths and—

    The crabs were missing? And the utensils as well?

    A quick look over the tables would confirm this, but soft clicking of claws would suggest otherwise. 

    Sometimes, Rinea wonders if this was all another dream. Crabs, big and small, held utensils between their claws and scurrying amok across the floor when they were meant to be plated on the table.

    ...Right, perhaps this is one she should sit out on, walk out as if she hadn’t witnessed any of it. On her way out, however, she is stopped by one of the crustaceans holding a fork. It clicks its other claw at her. She kneels down and blinks owlishly. Was it trying to tell her something? 

    As she entertains this thought, a familiar head of blond from that strange purgatory dream, passes by. He looked as if he wanted to tell her something back then. If she could have a moment to ask him, or a suggestion as to what to do about these crawling crustaceans. 

There was a certain anachronism that erupted from their presence here—akin to a hollowed-out trunk from a tree already uprooted. He could not exactly place the feeling, as Verdant Rain Moon folded into Great Tree Moon like an ornate paper fan. While he had his hands dipped into both pots— Valentia and Fodlan— the cascading pools of time were lost to him. The only sensible factor here was the people. And the ties, thicker than blood, that tethered them in place.

He had no earlier occasion to greet him, but Fernand was in their midst, was he not? By formal customs of this country, would it be insensitive to call him just by his forename? Because Sir Fernand Adalbert Lécuyer was a mouthful. And his tongue was not aching for customary weight over a formality they hadn't shared back in Valentia. (Where things made more sense, in what little room it was spared.)  

They were on better terms, now that the war had subsided and Fernand slid gently into civil service. He bore no personal thoughts on the matter, just that time would inevitably make dust of men, both he and Fernand alike. So while they were here, they would have to carry on, infinitesmal yet ever significant.

Sparing some time prior to his morning lecture, Lukas came around to where he suspected Fernand would frequent — with a house plant in hand. He wasn't looking for their first greeting to be an accidental bump of shoulders, so he thought this might be more appropriate. Under the flying buttresses that crossed grandly over their heads, he cleared his throat. "Fernand." The man held himself with such frankness, even pride seemed weightless on his shoulders.

"How is Fodlan treating you? I suppose the Church of Seiros have provided you with proper room and board?" Handing the small Echeveria over to him, Lukas offered a formal smile. Simple, as first meetings ought to be. 

"I extend my assistance to you, may you ever need it."

@elysieth, @bluebloodedpride Mission board: Bright colours in the marketplace have caught your eye: a 'piñata', the merchant called it. Hollow creatures made of paste and colourful paper strips and filled with a... surprise. You like surprises, don't you? They explain the rules of the game, and you pass over a gold piece to give it a try. (Lance +1)

It was another bustling day in the marketplace. Faces, both strange and acquainted, lined the streets, each going about their way purchasing goods at various stalls. A couple hagglers could be spotted throughout the area, both customer and merchant unyielding to the other as their back-and-forths dragged on. Leonie was no stranger to the act, just now walking away from a successfully discounted bag purchased from a stubborn merchant. Quiet grumbles about wasted time slipped past pressed lips as Leonie continued her way down the line.

The call of a particularly jovial merchant caught her attention as she marched on causing her to stop in her track to hear what he had to say. Save for the counter and odd multicoloured object dangling loosely behind him his stand wasn’t particularly impressive. In fact, were it not for the rainbow like object Leonie doubted she would have even given him the time of day to explain what it is he was doing here.

“A ‘piñata’, huh?”

After hearing his explanation Leonie couldn’t deny her interest was piqued. According to the seller (or would game master be more appropriate in this context?) the first person able to bust open the ‘piñata’ would get to receive the surprise that was inside. Essentially this was a test of strength if Leonie understood the game correctly. Her arms crossed, brows furrowed in contemplation. She was interested and she did want to play, but Leonie had made the trek to the marketplace alone; she had no partner to play this game with.

As if on cue she spotted two familiar figures just out of her left peripheral. She jumped at the opportunity immediately, blocking their path before they could get a chance to walk away.