#caeruleis

         " I'm telling you, I saw something fall into the forest." He's repeated the same phrase roughly three times in the short walk from the backyard to the woods all while arguing with the small dragon at his side. The same one that was no longer there when he glanced over his shoulder as his protest was met with utter silence. With a huff, and the roll of his eyes, he trudged through the densely packed trees. He would prove his point when personally hauled whatever piece of treasure had fallen from the sky back so he could shove it in Vyrn's face. And maybe he was just being a bit petty because he had lost his last bet with the creature. He was not losing this time. Expect, maybe, he already had. He realizes the moment he ducks beneath a few weeping branches, and has to clamp his hands over his mouth just to stop himself from gasping at the sight that greets him - a person.

          Or, he thinks, but he swore he had spotted, for a split second, a pair of torn wings upon the other's back. Yet, any apprehension he had felt was swiftly tossed aside when he actually takes the time to look at the other - armor covered in grime and blood. His heart sinks into the pit of his stomach as he gracelessly tears himself from the bushes to rush over without much thought at all. "Hey, are you all right?" That was a stupid question, so he tries again, "Let me help you."

         Free, but at what cost. Tearing through thick numerous layers of rumble seeking a light that made his blood boil, filled in so much stinging rage enough to fuel his deteriorating body impact through impact with the layers of the pandemonium as the crimson horizon drained his reserves of magic, even then Sandalphon did no relent. He wanted to prove that these shackles meant nothing, no curse, tortures that the supreme primarch would rain down into him would mean a damn if he was so much as able to get his attention from adobe the clouds with his own power. And So he did, waiting for more than two thousand of years, absorbing the little light he could through battered feathers and forming plans, sinking into the despair that it was the only thing that held his hand when the light had forsaken him for something so simple, yet apparently he wasn’t fit for. Which? He doesn’t care. Not anymore, not when he knows he can carve his paths in cruelty and blood at his heel as Sandalphon plots the many ways he could tear that disgusting distance that always had kept him from the highest heights denied to him.

         It’s when the sun hits his eyes that relief settles, and torn wings relax when finally the last of the Pandemonium’s walls had given before his strength that he makes the mistake to relax, a beat off and the ache of centuries of battles weighting so awfully suddenly on his back finally retaliating against the accomplishment the fallen angel had achieved, and whatever face he had that moment of victory dies in the desperation that is finding his extra limbs couldn’t respond. Muscle at the base of his wings barely react, and then rubble from his prison catches up, barraging the unfortunate innate through the blue skies as consciousness falls into yet another slumber the fallen did not want to go.

        Whatever forces had played in it be damned, for it takes a while for his ears to stop ringing, wings that barely were fit to fly fading the moment consciousness finally catches up and the warm pool of blood around him barely registered shook his battered body awake. But Sandalphon was in no shape to even move, so he prays, to no one in particular, no monster or whatever had cushioned his fall saw him as easy prey. No. He has to succeed, now that he’s free, to bring down the Supreme primarch, tear down the skies in his cry of agony. Show everyone what he was capable for - yet, right now, body could only do so much as to breathe hoarsely. Muscles cry in pain unlike the times he was experimented on, bitten down to the bone by immaculate monsters and drained off his energy forcibly by the very layers of the bottom of the skies could do to even the strongest primal beasts when exposed to it. He knows there’s a voice, knows it’s approaching fast - yet nothing responds to quiet commands to unsheathe his katana. Nothing. Pathetic.

[ THREAT. ]  rang out like a death knell as they fell from the Astral’s lips.  Cold, CALCULATING, irritated.  Such a tone that the fallen angel was all too familiar with but this struck an odd chord within.  T’was enough to draw crimson gaze to full attention upon the researcher’s form.  How own MIRTHFUL features soon falling flat as not to provoke such an ire.      “Now now Cilius.  Plans are still going apace.       It is not like I abandoned your vision.”  His words were guarded, carefully chosen.  Should the primal err, his life would very well end, that much he was certain of.  For far too long had he whiled away the sleepless nights fantasizing his death by his creator’s hand but this was neither the time nor the place.  Still lips did part to renew a PLAYFUL sort of smile.  Perhaps that was pushing it.      “Surely you don’t think I’d spoil your work for something so trivial?”  A pause given as still his gaze remained upon the Astral.  A pang of worry coursed through Belial.  He’d hope that boundary wasn’t too far crossed.

Ilsa sat alone at the cafe table, with her head resting on one of her hands. She observed the hubbub of the various other patrons at the cafe, chatting and laughing and simply having a good time. Peaceful, happy moments like this were what the Society fought so hard for...and she almost never got often due to the rigorous demands of her job, ironically. Might as well savor this moment while it lasted before she returns to her usual hard-as-nails drill sergeant mode.

Her eyes then caught sight of the other one meant to join her: Eustace. Looking as gruff as ever, with the same “not-smiley” countenance she herself also sported.

Katalina watched the clouds drift lazily across the sky, her thoughts on Lyria and the rest of the crew. They had gone to town a few hours ago and although she wasn’t needed for an outing like that, she couldn’t help but worry. Trouble always seemed to follow them, but she knew that the Captain was more than capable of protecting Lyria when she wasn’t around.

Still she didn’t like doing nothing, and she was starting to feel restless. The Grandcypher was oddly quiet, everyone else had also gone to the nearby town to resupply or just to take some much needed time off. She was at a loss of what to do when an idea struck her. 

Determined in her new found mission she started heading off the airship when she spotted a familiar figure. “Oh Vira! I thought you went into town with the others,” she said smiling softly. “I was just about to go to town to pick up some ingredients. If you’re not busy would you like to come with me?” she asked completely understanding if the other woman had other matters to attend to. It would be nice to spend more time together though, it felt like she hadn’t seen her old friend in a while.  

          The Theatre. The love of Shizuku’s life. The place that helped the budding actress express herself in any way she wanted, morphing into the beautifully confident person that she saw all those years ago on that tiny stage, or into those people from each fascinating performance she engraved into her mind. She took in all those personalities and vowed to be as brave and beautiful as all of them one day, while burying part after anxious part of herself until it seemed like it no longer existed...Yet that wasn’t theatre. No matter the masks she wore, deep down the true her yearned to act as just herself, with no facade to hide behind. But she was afraid to give any of herself into a role, that personal touch frightening, truly just afraid of getting hurt by both her role and her critics alike. Yet a friend helped open her heart, if only a little bit, to be exposed for all to see. And there was this freedom that came with it, feelings flowing freer in every role and every song, and it all just felt...More right.

          Of course, she was still getting adjusted to truly feeling alright with putting herself in the role instead of the other way around, and with just being more herself in general. But what better place to practice the former than at an actual theatre?

          For some reason, Shizuku didn’t think the ones here could be so grand and beautiful, and yet here she was, swallowing her own thoughts as her eyes ate up the splendid scenery. It was really nice of the captain to take her to this place; a place built by a friend that let them come inside during an off week for their current play. A little maintenance happening here and there didn’t stop Shizuku from exploring everywhere she was allowed to be, and mingling with a couple of the in-house actors was really nice too, taking in every word about their experiences and their own takes on acting. Though, of course, when telling her own stories and whatnot, one thing led to another, and she herself was standing atop their glorious stage. It was a bit nerve-wracking to suddenly be put on the spot, but she knew it was just practice and fun, and all of the actors here felt the same way. The cold reads (from works she thinks she’s read, but there are some subtle differences that make her question it) go on for awhile, from jovial dances to viciously serious scenes, and each one makes Shizuku more invigorated and visibly radiating. Whenever someone comments on it though, she merely blushes and says she’s just getting really into it.

@caeruleis​​ asked: The sweet smell of pumpkin and cinnamon filtered into the air from the basket hung loosely from her arm. A smile on her normally stern features as she makes her way up temple steps. It wasn't unusual for her to spoil the children who resided in town. "I've baked some pumpkin cookies to give to the children. I want them to enjoy the Halloween season this year. Would you like to hand them out with me?" Tone is polite as the holy knight addresses the Priestess. {Jeanne for Azuna!}

As acutely as the priestess could pick up the scent of blood, her senses dampened when it came to other smells. Even so, as she swept the top steps of the temple’s entrance, the wafting aromas of fall and sweets prickled at her nose as the holy knight came into view. Her motions halted as she awaited the reason for the visit, and such a request nearly seemed to stun Azuna for a brief moment. Honeyed eyes flickered back and forth between the basket and the woman, lips pulled into an otherwise expressionless façade.

“The village around here had truly grown to have so many children?” She finally let out a breath, turning her back towards the other woman briefly, only to prop the broom against the temple’s exterior and dusting her hands against her hakama. “Your basket seems to nearly overflow with treats, it’s a wonder there are so many in this place.”

Turning back around, Azuna offered the holy knight a tugged smile, the expression nearly touching her eyes. To see children laughing, having fun on a night of festivity and wonder, the priestess could not help but both feel pangs of pain gripping at her heart, as well as elation that others might be filled with joy over such treats. It wouldn’t hurt to see the young growing and smiling.

Such a thing could help her iced heart thaw, even the slightest.

@caeruleis

She had this weird push-and-pull tugging at her heart as she stared at the ice. Having heard about the activity, both through oral and written stories throughout the years, she had always wanted to give it a try. The authors made it sound so majestic; like a magical dance that made the hearts of whoever stepped onto that ice skip a beat. It certainly made hers when she heard descriptions of figure skating, or read through novels with the activity bring the two lovers closer together or friends could just goof off and have fun. And she could’ve tried it at any point in her life...Had her life not already been decided for her. Unfortunately, ice-skating wasn’t an activity her mother saw as furthering her chances of becoming a great performer and chosen as a maiden. Though, in hindsight, such balance and technique would’ve made her less nervous at practicing dances. And yet the bruises she heard peers complain about were probably the reason her mother’s fair Diantha never took to the ice.

And that’s why, even now, when she desperately wanted to just go out onto the lake, even to just get the hang of skating all by herself and experience the joy of it, there was that little anxious voice that told her not to. In fear of pain, but more in fear of looking the fool in front of new respected peers, and some closer to her heart than others, when it was that one sport any would’ve guessed the graceful, oh-so-talented Diantha could do well.

She had told Gran simply that she couldn’t skate; simply that she never had the opportunity to try, no deep backstory needed to it. The captain had seemed to accept as much, but Lyria had at least gotten skates on her, and then other crew members were questioning her decision to sit alone on a nearby bench. She brushed it all off, too embarrassed to even admit the simple truth to the others, and just saying she’d skate when she was ready.

That was hours ago. She had flip-flopped between her winter boots and these ice skates more times than she could count to help with anything so as to take her mind off the ice. Gran had the same predicament, but for sound reasons like helping his crew, that only now he himself could learn to skate properly under the care of soft lanterns and reassuring starlight. And there she was, applauding his first confident loop around the lake, while she anxiously stood on the sidelines, still afraid to join him. Of course she chastised herself in her head for thinking so childishly, and now this was just in front of the man she trusted most, which should give her more than enough strength to try all of this on her own. And yet...Even still…

Even still, he’s there to help her. Her golden gaze blinks startled at his outstretched hand, before reading his other to gather the simple intentions. And there’s a sigh released; a huge one that was trapped in her chest without her realizing, exhaled into the snow, and all from his little vow and huge smile. “...I know you won’t.” Is a form of thanks breathed through a little crack in her voice, but whatever emotion felt was as warm as she imagined it in her stories.