#celica support

As she understands it, Professor Arvis was a rather accomplished fire mage himself, and when Celica finds herself standing with him in front of the 'photo-artifex', an idea suddenly sparks.

"Oh! I know. How about we spell something out... with magic?" Celica smiles, the tip of her finger glowing alight with a small flame. "We can write it in the air."

Magical theory had always been a deeply held interest of his, and it is with that interest that Arvis seeks out the projectionist and their device.

He is well accustomed to sitting for portraits, but the prospect of instantaneous results also draws his curiosity. He is a scholar in all things, well before he even began his work as a professor here; and to see that same spark of affinity and aptitude in his students softens the hard edges of his heart.

He sees it well in Celica, and has a fondness for her for it. At the offered idea, he smiles, conjuring his own flame and feeling the push and pull between their spells.

"A fine idea."

The portrait lacks the brilliant shades of ochre and crimson that come from a painter's brush, but it is still a marvel at how hyper realistic and immediate the result is.

@seraphiia

The grounds are a constant flutter of some form of excitement. At times it seems as though students are never given a moment to pause and reflect over what had just come to pass, as more often than not there is always some grand event looming for them over the horizon.

Mitama wonders just how much of that is intentional on the Archbishop’s part.

Still, word has just begun to die down regarding the recent mock battle (of which Mitama has had far too many naps interrupted by people offering praise or other such remarks about her performance. As though she cared to know how well she could handle a fake battle) when soon the student body is possessed by a new event.

A ball. It sounds so simple, Mitama almost expects someone to declare that a great beast will swoop down in the middle of it to do battle with them all. Mitama has never frequented such an occasion before. There were celebrations after the war ended, of course, but those were not as formal and Mitama had had no reason to attend such an event before then. 

Mitama would have likely skipped out on the event entirely to spend the day in blissful sleep had someone not made a very good point. She may not want to attend, but Siegbert, prince of Nohr on the other hand...

@celestialbloom

Saber was a mercenary. His entire career was built on having nerves of steel. Of being good under pressure. Of being able to keep his cool in stressful situations, to press on until the end of the job and to never hesitate in what he had to do. Saber liked to think that he was a good merc and by extension, good at all those things.

That made it a little shameful when he’d entered the training grounds, spotted the red haired princess, and froze.

Shit. Well...what had he expected. He knew she was here. He knew that he was inevitably going to see her. That didn’t make the reminder of how quickly he’d fucked off from the castle after the dust had settled sit any better in his stomach. 

Saber took a deep breath. Well. Best to rip the bandage off quickly.

Anthiese narrowed her eyes at him. She’d heard about Berkut. Her fiancee’s cousin. A young man who was haughty and jealous, as far as she’d heard. Apparently, he and Albein fought often.

“…Yes,” she stated in a flat, unamused tone. “I’m Princess Anthiese, Crown Heir of Zofia. I take it you are Lord Berkut, my intended’s cousin.”

“Hmpf.” Berkut just frowned at her, refusing to nod. That was too friendly of a gesture for someone affiliated with THAT brute. “That’s right. Lord Berkut, at your service.” It sounded sarcastic, the way he phrased that part.

@priestessofmila

His relief was short lived and his temper shorter as he stalked his way through what had been their battlefield a moment before. They’d taken out the last of them, and the group was now slowly reconvening. No one was dead, as far as he could tell. Though someone clearly hadn’t been trying not to be.

“Lass!” He called out. With no other greeting, he took hold of her arm and steered the girl away, ignoring the surprise of whoever had been near her. He’d apologize later. And the group would be fine without their leader for a few moments. They wouldn’t if she kept getting distracted and letting terrors near and

brush brush brush!

Saber let out a small huff as he placed his hand on top of Celica’s head for what was probably the third time. “I know you must be so eager to get outta here, but you’re making it take longer with all your fussing.”

She probably could’ve asked someone else to do it. He was pretty sure any of the pegasus trio would’ve been delighted to get their hands on their young leader’s hair. Well, maybe not Catria...Still, he wasn’t sure why he was recruited to help soothe out the knots in her hair when there were plenty of able candidates around.

It wasn’t...bad. If anything, the whole thing struck him as somewhat familiar. A lifetime ago, in a small house, his mother humming in the background as his sister laughed and babbled while he braided her hair for her...