#cerbinwen

The harsh winters of Briggs. The giant frozen wall with outposts watching over the ravine ahead, the dangerous country threatening to attack the weakened Amestris laying in wait for the right moment, for the moment where they can strike down the nuance that had made the crossing over to the rich and bountiful lands of Amestris - nearly impossible.

Atop of it, he stands. Stands strongly, with his striking black cloak flapping around in the harsh wins. he listens to the sounds of the winter and what's beyond. Listens to the sounds of whatever disturbance might occur, or whatever invasion may be attempted. His face remains absolutely calm, he was used to the harsh, biting cold for now. And he spent most of his time away from the other peers. Most of them didn't like him. He was well aware of that. The impaling Alchemist. Alchemist of thousand swords. One of the more cruel and calculating members of the State alchemists even to this day.

He was still a part of the army. He didn't have to do anything to remain, though. He was spared of choosing a side during that fated day. He was away from Amestris, traveling between the vast desert separating it and a different, western empire. He was spared of that massive conflict that almost took the souls of all people of Amestris. Spared of seeing a new blind ruler take the place. And yet, as a weapon, he wished for war. A reason he spent here all this time and not down there, where other soldiers were, where all the social things occurred. But they didn't seem to be all that content with leaving HIM alone.

🍓  ──   how is my muse typically seen by others? does it ring true to who they really are? does their reputation matter to them?

answered here ! 

🥝  ──   does my muse have any  ‘  unusual  ’  habits, interests,  and  /  or talents?  do they hide it,  or are they proud of it?  

answered here ! 

🍒  ──   how much does my muse value companionship?  do they constantly keep people around them,  or do they prefer to be alone often?  do they have or desire to have many friends?  do they see every meeting as an opportunity to make a new friend?  

answered here ! 

🍇  ──   how would my muse describe their childhood?  how much has it impacted the person they are now,  or will become as an adult?  around what age did they or will they start to mature,  and why?  do they wish to go back to their days as a child,  or have they embraced adulthood?

answered here !

🥭 ──  how important to my muse is their hometown,  or where they’re from?  are they proud of it,  or considered a hometown hero? did they move away,  or do they wish to?

Amelia knows nothing about her original hometown. She was born in a little, almost completely secluded village that is located on the side of a snowy mountain in a far away land but was soon brought over to Yharnam in pursuance of giving her the chance to experience a better life. Obviously, the clerics who welcomed her and who brought her over to the orphanage were not aware of her origins and thus never shared any type of information with her: all she knows about her origins is that she was found on the stairs that lead to the Cathedral, surrounded by many layers of wooly fabrics and with an incomprehensible letter held in her tiny arms. 

This is why Amelia considers Yharnam as her hometown since it’s the city where she has lived for the majority of her life: it matters not how corrupted and wicked it has become, this city will always have a huge place in her heart, for both positive and negative reasons. As far as the way she’s perceived by the rest of the inhabitants, I believe that her perception is mostly a dualistic one: on one side, many people revere her and the Healing Church for having saved them from their ailments and for having turned Yharnam into a prosperous and powerful city thanks to their researches  ;  on the other side, those who have realized the real danger of the Old Blood obviously sees the Vicar as the ultimate enemy, the one pillar to slay and destroy in pursuance of making the entirety of the Church crumble. Truth to be told, Amelia is not really interested in what the populace thinks and rarely pays attention to the rumors and to the little revolts that take place in the lowest districts   ──   It matters not how much these people huff and grumble and throw tantrums, there is nothing they can do in order to stop the Vicar and the rest of the Church from continuing their researches, from continuing to depend on the Old Blood. 

“I gave th’ folks in Central a hard time, durin’ the winter. Th’ way city cats all lose their minds when a lil’ snowfall comes through; they wouldn’t last a country minute where I’m from. But this?” She shivers visibly, as if for emphasis. “cold don’t begin t’ describe it. guess my baba wasn’t being dramatic, after all— how d’ y’all stay warm up here?”

not that she could complain too much; she’d volunteered to take a little stint in the North when they’d put out a request for any personnel that could decipher Drachman radio transmissions; filling in for someone’s leave, the way she understood it. a few days, maybe a week. a ‘fun change of pace’ she’d thought. 

even as she wrinkled her nose to resist another sniffle, she was still optimistic. 

@cerbinwen || meme

@cerbinwen​

“I told you, multiple times if memoryserves, that my absence would only ever be temporary. But I suppose I amgrateful that you’ve kept the place in order. I suppose.” 

The magician’s eyes scan the room, candlelitand somehow oppressive in its atmosphere, a monument to past glories, alife stretched beyond the limits of what is natural.

Philippa tilts her head back, light dancingacross her face, dappling her skin, and for a moment her breath is taken awayby the sheer beauty of the chandelier mounted on the ceiling above her. Amillion crystals, minute in size yet every single one perfectly cut, cascadingdown from boughs wrought of silver, reminiscent of icicles collecting on atree’s branches, frozen in time, reflecting and refracting the candlelight.

She nods her head approvingly.

    Ed hasn’t been to Briggs in quite some time; not since before the Promised Day. He’s got a fondness for the fort despite the blistering cold ( which he definitely does NOT miss ) and its inhabitants. Despite Olivier’s strictness and the tight ship she runs, the friendships at Briggs were just as solid, and Ed really appreciates that. 

    But still: why would she want Ed to come up North? He’s not military anymore, and he can’t perform alchemy no matter how nice of a circle he draws or how many times he slaps his hands together ( he knew he was trading his alchemy away, but still ed liked to give it a shot once in a while . it was beyond embarrassing when winry caught him ).

Traps were best set in polite company, over good wine and succulent roasts. The Duke of Perendale was a generous host, especially when dining with someone as important as the Inquisitor. It was a quiet evening, very quaint, relaxed, even. Greed loved those evenings with those lower nobles who squabbled for his favour. He loved it all, wanted it all, and he wanted more of it, forever. The fade had nothing to offer to him. 

Countess Sylvia was retelling one of her most favourite stories of her youth when, suddenly, the air shifted in the room, the composition of molecules all changing as, suddenly - Duke Adan van Tonder shifted ever so slightly, raising one arm - and he caught her, the young lady who seemingly fell out of nowhere, and barely spilled a drop of wine, holding the glass steady in his other hand. “It seems it’s raining maidens tonight,” he noted with amusement. So the tingle of home has been more than just a funny feeling of premonition.