#brigidqueen

I HOPE THIS REACHES HER IN TIME // accepting !

It all happens too quick – too fast – that Dimitri’s hand remains outstretched where it is, fragments of dark light now long gone. Shocked into silence, eyes once enflamed by the stoke of tragedy settle into a dangerous, cold fury – just as frigid as the land which bore this prince of phantoms. 

Edelgard… The Flame Emperor…

The revelation that Dimitri had sought for wrings the most grievous of unravellings. His head thrums with a violence once kept buried in his chest; even the consoling, warm hand of Brigid’s princess does nothing to thaw the ice petrifying his heart. It simply adds to the weight that Edelgard’s escape leaves him with, so much so that Dimitri shakes his head – tearing his shoulder away from her hand like it burned him. Slowly, does his breath spiel out of him in an ugly snarl.

     “What silence do you speak of…?!” he hisses, snapping his head Petra’s way with wild eyes. “She’s gone! And we’ve let her escape! The dead —-” 

He stops then, his breath shallowed as rage chokes him of air. The ugly beast tugs at the corners of his lips, and chuckles lowly as the scowl of anger dissipates into a grin of irony; of; the world has spun a cruel, cruel joke – all to mock Dimitri of his torment.

you don’t let anything stand in your way

give a 🌹 // this is just old now

She inhales deeply yet silently before casting her line—five years clearly did nothing to her ability to fish ( though, why would it, considering everything about her seems to have been pulled from five years ago anyways? ), her movements completely the same as they’ve always been. If she were to close her eyes and simply be in the moment, it’d feel as though that fall never happened; as though it’d all been the oddest dream, and that she were still in the year 1180, fishing on a normal weekend and needing to fake another lesson plan by the next day. It’s a pleasant thought, perhaps, but unrealistic, and Byleth forces herself to remain in the grounded even as her mind drifts to less concrete places.               It’s after she catches her third fish that she hears someone else approaching, and she takes the opportunity of her bait needing to be added to look back at the newcomer—at Petra—with a nod of her head as greeting. Byleth doesn’t even have the chance to ask about what’s behind the princess’s back before the mysterious object is being presented to her, and the ex-mercenary can only blink at the sight. It takes a moment, for her hand to reach towards it, but she takes it carefully nonetheless.               “Thank you,” she says, looking at the rose for a second longer in thought. It reminds her, she thinks, of when she’d give gifts of flowers just a few days—weeks—years ago—and the thought amuses her enough for a small smile to grow on her face. Briefly, she wonders if other people's thoughts went the same as hers when she was the one giving them, a slightly confused yet ... touched feeling. Her head tilts, fingers fiddling with the stem to twist it around slightly.                             “Is there any reason for it?” Not that she needs one, but she’s just. Curious. 

unwarranted kindness and love

                   a rare smile presents itself.  irises glowing with content after her response  ;   quite a difficult question as well.   quietly , a hand is raised to offer her                  praise !  on her answer , lightly patting her on the head.