#celestialbloom

          fhirdiad castle was a place of memories. grey-speckled walls of cream alabaster conjure years not long ago in time but an epoch away in experience, with a squire’s sword buckled to his hip and arms often full of supplies or other errand-trinkets. the knight he had served under had been a cowardly fool, and the work had been hard, but he recognizes now what he had taken for granted then: a paradise, free from his father’s strict eye, off duty hours spent sneaking the city streets with those he’d called friends, his brother a constant presence.

          ❝ if the boar has been captured by the enemy, getting him back won’t be easy. ❞ now these oft-walked floors are carved in lights of aberrant blue, the prestigious dining hall wherein he’d shared many meals, both formal and informal, as a child a wreckage of blood and broken glass, overturned tables draped in slow-drifting dark miasma.

                    he might even say it’s symbolic.

          a couple of other pairs have already branched off into the castle’s depths, and he can only hope they know where they’re going. calmly, he looks over to celica with steel and quiet fortitude, one hand coming to rest on the trusted hilt of his blade. at his other hip, his levin sword has also inexplicably returned — a familiar comfort he won’t question. he is as keen to find dimitri ( and perhaps anything else that awaits them here ) as the rest of their teammates, but it’s clear that cornelia has wrested full control of the castle from the inside, and that they had been brought — or lured — here for this. they’re stepping willingly into a giant trap. running in heedlessly wouldn’t save anyone.

          ❝ he’s likely being held in the dungeons. or perhaps the throne room, if they intend to make a show of him. ❞

It had been some time since the shared love for felines was discovered between Siegbert and Celica, and what a time it had been! Their foster kitten, sweet Sir Almond, had grown from a frail little thing to healthy (attention-seeking) beauty in no time at all. The royals equally split the duty of caring for Almond; some nights, he curled up in Celica’s dorm, and others, he slept atop Siegbert’s chest in his room. It was a perfect compromise.

Until the day it wasn’t.

“You don’t have Almond?” Siegbert and Celica both trusted their furry friend to find his way around the monastery without their help, but after so many months of caring for him, a schedule between the three of them had been established. By dinnertime, Almond was back in one of their care and would stay with them until the following morning. It was during the light hours of the day that the little thing would scamper off to associate with the other monastery cats; to find out that he was still running free, now, instead of settling down to enjoy dinner was certainly unnerving.

“I’m worried, Lady Celica. He didn’t come back to me, either. Let’s look around and see if we can find him, alright? I’ve heard word of a lot of cats congregating near the kitchens; shall we begin there?”

@celestialbloom

Pursuing different interests meant less classes shared with her friend, but at least the two spent lunch together. It was more or less Mae begging to have a bite or two of Celica’s food, but she was more than willing to do her fair share of meal trading. 

There was no snack swapping to be had if her lunch buddy wasn’t there, however. The first day was a little disappointing, especially considering the lunch she had picked up was particularly rich, much to her own distaste. But she doesn’t think much of it, she figures the redhead was off on her own, finishing work to stay ahead. And with the second day came a little bit of concern on Mae’s end, but she brushed it off like the first and ate her sandwich in solitude.

But after three days? Something was up and she couldn’t shake the gut feeling, so after a long day, she finds herself in front of Celica’s dorm. Mae knocks on the door and puts her ear next to it, listening for signs of life or otherwise. 

“Celica? Are you in there?” No answer, so she tries again. “I haven’t seen you for days, I just wanted to check up on you...” Still no answer. 

[ Yours Truly (Letters) | Accepting ]

Enclosed in an envelope with a red wax seal is a letter addressed to Celica and slid underneath the door leading to her chambers. It reads:

Lady Celica,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. There is much I wish to say, of which most cannot be enclosed in a letter. I feel as though I owe a great deal of an explanation. All this is to say, if you wish to confer. If not, then I would so gladly leave the matter in the dark.

Anyway, you are an avid reader, yes? I couldn't help but notice in passing a copy of “Enchanted Love,” so I think you will enjoy another of a similar genre. The main characters throughout the series—Sir Clarke and Lady Harper—have undeniable chemistry, although their first meeting is not so pleasant. I wish to not spoil any more details in the case that you do decide to pick it up in what spare time you may have.

Do let me know if any of this interests you and you wish for our meeting in person, perhaps over a cup of tea? Or a even better and make it sparkle—champagne, wine, whatever you fancy.

Cordially,

         ★   //    FRUIT HEADCANONS.  /   @celestialbloom & @houseofreglay

long doldrums of haze-painted days swelter with the lost laughter of anamnesis. all things in their growth, and in their stagnation. for whom does the steady blaze nurture, and for whom does it oppress?

while i think leif has strong aspects of both fall and winter in him both, i’ve always associated the acorn son most prominently with summer. and granted, part of that might be because i made his birthday july 8th and part of it might be because when i think of leif, i think of my headcanons on thracia’s absolutely horrendous summer climate, but i think it lines up best with how i portray him as well.

summer is a time of long days, relaxation, activity, and growth. this is all pretty on par for leif. as nature reaches its fullest bloom and life hits the peak of its productivity, so is leif’s tireless energy always taking him from one place to the next, working to maintain the tenuous unity of his kingdom or otherwise taking to a commoner’s garb and helping people where he can. always learning, studying, trying to be better, refusing failure.

but summer is also a time punctuated by torpor and stillness and by nostalgic recollection. there’s a sense of something soon to be lost in the revelry of summer, or maybe the resurfacing of something long already lost. this, too, is characterized in leif, a part of whom has always mourned all the things and people that have moved away from him, bound up partly in a yearning need to remember and immortalize the past, lest he forget what it’s like to be truly happy — a blissfully ignorant childhood with nanna, the years when the thought of reclamation of his throne filled him with pride and zeal, the simplicity of a war ( or several wars ) where taking up a sword was leagues easier than trying to win frail trust from a nation of people who have every right not to believe in him. 

it fits in with headcanons i’ve also always had that leif doesn’t live long, was never meant to live long. i’ve always imagined that he dies around his prime, in his thirties, and that new thracia goes to the line of altena and areone, the true carriers of dain and noba’s blood, to be the united kingdom it was once. leif, who played his role as the liberator and the unifier, was a single star that burned bright when it was needed, and it’s the brightest stars that go out first.

Fruity Headcanon Prompts | accepting

(also asked by @herrings & @soireenea)

Being the right hand to the future emperor of Adrestia, Hubert knows that his appearance reflects on his liege. While it may be surprising to some, he does spend a fair amount of time preparing for the day each morning. His clothes are always pressed and wrinkle-free, loose buttons are always mended, and tears usually result in throwing out the article entirely, unless the rip can be repaired inconspicuously. He’s also an expert at washing stains (e.g. blood) out of his clothing. There’s no room for his attire to be anything less than perfect because that’s usually what makes the difference between looking like a respectable servant to House Hresvelg, and a back-alley creep. He shaves each morning for the same reason, and while he’s not too fond of colognes and perfumes, he’ll generally have the scent of clean, plain soap. Fresh and well-kept is his goal. He’ll rarely go for anything more ostentatious than that.

He cares for his hair in a similar way, but although he washes it regularly, it tends to get oily fast. He maintains his usual style without the need of gel or other products, as his hair is fine enough to stay behind his ear with little fuss. Wearing it over a part of his face is non-negotiable. Even though he maintains his look with presentability over attractiveness in mind, I’ve written before that he hates his forehead (though this HC writeup is outdated now) and hiding it partly gives him a sense of safety/comfort. 

starter for: @celestialbloom

faculty and staff mission board: The late arrival of the distress call means that the knights are already in a losing battle against time to cross the continent to the far reaches of Faerghus. Of course, even the church’s most elite soldiers need to rest and your unit’s commander decides to stop in the middle of the Faerghus countryside. Help set up camp, assist with food preparations, or just bundle up with your comrades and grouse about the cold. The monastery’s dormitories certainly look luxurious now.

It felt nostalgic to dance for soldiers again, although she wished there was never a need to.

Tethys’ mind blanks as she dances, tuning out her thoughts that started knocking on long-closed doors in the back of her head. There was no need to dwell too much on the situation at hand. It was yet another conflict among countries, just in another land. It was not her job to worry about the whys and the hows of war, only about how the people on her side are doing.

She spins, she sways. Her arms reached for a seemingly random spectator in a crowd of many-- but in truth she makes sure to give even a second of attention to everyone. Be it through a smile, a wink, or a faint touch... Tethys’ dance aimed to capture everyone’s attention, and in turn, ease their weary minds. 

As her performance ends, Tethys arches her back and offers her arms to the sky, eyes closing as the jiggling of her bracelets slowly comes to a stop. 

The events that come after were all routine. She smiles, she humbly accepts the compliments. She mentions her home country. She mentions how dancing is her life. And then, when the opportunity to slip away presents herself, she excuses herself, telling them she’ll assist in the cooking.

As much as she’d like to think her performance can comfort her companions, the effects of a hearty meal trumps everything else.

A small group gathers for the kitchen duties, and soon divided themselves into even smaller groups, each preparing different portions of the meals for their large group. Tethys ends up partnering with another redhead-- royalty, from what she knows. 

“Chili seems like a wonderful meal to combat this cold, don’t you think?~♪” Tethys offers a kind smile to her partner and begins preparing what they need. Beans... meat... bowls.. spices....

letters from flayn | accepting!

The pages barely cling onto worn threads of the binding as Flayn quietly hands Celica an old tome. Letters long since faded swirl on the leather cover like incense smoke twirling through the air. Hidden underneath the forestry of loose and stained parchment, lays a piece of paper neatly folded into a square. Flayn gives her a small smile before taking her leave.

to celica, a dear companion,

greetings! i hope this letter, and subsequently this tome, find you at a good time. you see, i had recalled seeing you perusing the white magic offerings of the garreg mach library and thought you would appreciate this!

it is rather old, as i am sure you have noticed from its abysmal state, however it is one of a kind in that it has been around since the time of the saints. how lucky we are to have such a record in our midst! how even luckier we are that i have successfully snatched it from my brother’s desk before he can take notice to such a crime.

to give a brief background to this book, it is said that this tome was used by saint cethleann herself during the time of the war of heroes. well, i say tome, but it is closer to a collection of prayers and spells clumsily strung together than it is a proper spellbook. still, the fact that it has survived this long is nothing short of a miracle. perhaps it was saint cethleann’s wish that you glean this information for yourself?

due to its age, most, if not all of the spells in this tome have been rendered obsolete-- outshone by the more practical sorceries of our time. still, i am certain you will find it an interesting read at the very least!

sincerely yours,