#cynthero

Duke Maxifeld has received a letter detailing the planned heist of his family’s priceless heirloom - a weapon said to take on many an alternate form - during his upcoming annual ball. The Knights of Seiros have assigned you and your partner to attend undercover and find the wannabe thief before they act. The event is strictly for couples only. Better make your act convincing! [Grants Any Weapon +1]

She can’t say that she’s thrilled about the arrangement.

Lucina’s finger taps restlessly against the champagne flute she holds. It had been passed to her no more than a handful of moments after she had stepped through the door, and had not lost a drop of liquid since. All the good it had done her was to provide an excuse to untangle her arm from Inigo’s.

Because, of course, they had been assigned to this. In some ways she’s grateful -- at the very least she knows him -- but she would have much preferred just about anyone else. Just when things had begun to feel a little less weird with him, no less. 

Layers of midnight blue organza ebb and flow around her legs as she and her partner maneuver their way through the crowd. As much as she enjoys the excuse to wear a dress, it would have been better much better if it had been one of her own choosing.

But then all of those had gotten near instant vetoes from her friends when she had discussed her attire for this little event, so Lucina had settled for something at least a little bit practical.

Even if her insistence upon wearing her Falchion and its holster above her skirts had been shot down twice as quickly as anything else she may have suggested. Something about how it “wouldn’t be very stealthy of her,” and, “totally ruins the vibe of the dress.”

Whatever that meant.

Lucina frowns as her eyes scan the crowd. “It would have been nice,” she sighs, “if we even knew what it was that we are supposed to be protecting.”

✸ – A bear hug

     “Cynthia...” At first, he seems unsure.

But hey, this was the girl who successfully lifted him from the ocean upside down on a pegasus. She seemed strong, so meybe this was safe...taking in a breath, he nodded.

     “Okay. But uh...still, if you feel anything you should not be feeling, feel free to scream?”

The prince wrapped his arms around her tightly, and with a “hup!” lifted her off the ground with ease. After a few seconds, he slowly placed her down.

Marth  &  Cynthia.        ◞        @cynthero        ◞        Sword v2 +1.

               𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐒   𝐅𝐎𝐑   𝐀   𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄   he has only wielded once. Amidst all the articles plucked from his allegedly depthless inventory of feats, that alone should profess something to chuckle about. A single step into the brand new smithy and the man behind the counter immediately ushers him in with a crow of his name, or rather his title, locking his hand with a wagging shake fierce enough to throttle the circulation: ‘You are he.!! The Hero-King who wielded the blade of light! We’ll surely need your insight on the magical arms we have in store!’ The words more appropriately spell his doom rather than his acclaim, and without the ability to squeeze in even a word of his own, well- 

               Great humor backs the disposition, likely by the fact that his silence would be his undoing for all the course of a few dubious hours. He boasts little certitude of how it’s even evolved to this point, roped along by a light shove between the shoulder blades and a guide to the forefront of a secret workshop as soon as his head passed below the shingles. Or perhaps it was not actually so secret and Marth has only caught some stray hemp from his pillow stuffed into his royal ears. Regardless, one talk of the castle-town had been that the place peddled a particularly fine whetstone and that’s all he came here for; originally.

               Now he stands in a mysterious room locked behind a press of stone in the wall, before a long table bedecked with various swords forged from unidentified metals and sorceries. Luckily, his lone comfort lies in the fact that he was not alone. Even when the escort disappears and leaves him to these outlandish elements, all around him are students from the monastery obligated to weather a similar experience. One particular girl amongst them he has seen for the bounce of her pigtails here and there in the classroom, never quite close enough to observe for a proper name or face.

starter for @cynthero | +1 Riding or Flying

To say the Officers Academy had been advertised one way would be misleading. It hadn’t really been advertised at all and the news of its existence had only reached Salem through letters from those who had traveled from Jugdral to it themselves. Or through the word-of-mouth of those who came back again. Even so, he had imagined it to be an average institute of learning, albeit one nicer than the community schoolhouses he had seen pop up throughout the Thracian countryside. He had heard it was an academy established primarily for Fódlan’s nobility; the admission of those of less impressive lineage was relatively new.

So Salem had arrived expecting a quiet education. The existence of giant beasts that roamed Fódlan had been - perhaps intentionally - left off of all accounts of the experience at Garreg Mach. Stranger, however, was that none of his classmates had seemed especially troubled by the news of the birds that had come to the fields outside of town. Was it truly so mundane, then?

Gravel crunches beneath his boots. The path down the mountain to the fields at its base is well-worn, and for that he’s grateful. He had only wanted to inspect the area, perhaps even to catch a glimpse of the beasts themselves to gauge exactly what sort of monsters Garreg Mach deals with on such a regular basis, but not if the risk of being lost was too great. The weather is mercifully clear and warm, though summer rain clouds build in the distance, too far still to determine their direction.

A horse dressed with saddle and reins snorts at the underbrush up ahead, tail swishing at the gnats its curiosity has stirred up. It raises its head as Salem draws closer, and he notices the circlet of flowers that sits slightly askew below swiveling ears. There’s no rider to be seen, but Salem imagines that he’s not the only one who thought it a fine day for a hike, and keeps walking. By the time he reaches the base of the mountain, and the edge of the forest that opens up to the stretch of fields that surround it, a sharp crack stops him in his tracks - the snap of thick wood and the signal of something large in the trees overhead. Salem’s fingers tighten around the staff he’s brought with him - nothing more than a walking stick in Fódlan, but the instinct to send his enemies to sleep with the wave of his hand remains where magic has left.

Thud. A boot falls heavily to the earth beside him.

A boot...?

Salem glances up. Lips part in a gape. A girl in disarray drapes over a branch high above, one foot now bare.

verses meme! (closed!) | @cynthero

cynthia has entered the battle!

battle theme: Red Carpet Extend-o-matic

battle intro: “Okay, okay! Just remember that the safe word is ‘petunia’ and that you don’t need to push yourself if-- Cynthia? Sigh, there she goes...”  victory: “Even Magnolia is proud of herself!” 

defeat: “Wah? How... how did you know the way to counter that...?” 

taunt: “Hehe... Oh, sorry! You’re just so cute~ ♡” 

reacting to taunt: “CYNTHIA!” 

tie: “Heh, you’re a tough one, Cynthia. I’m proud of you.” 

perfect victory: “Did I look... heroic?” 

final finisher: “I’m not backing down!” 

⚔ tag-team quotes ⚔

assist: “You’re going to have to get through me first!” 

cynthia down during assist: “...Run. Before she sees what I’ll do to you.” 

using item on cynthia: “I brought snacks!” 

healing/buffing cynthia: (giving her a smooch) “See? All better~ Wait! I have vulnerary too.”  

If there’s anything Claude has learned about Cynthia, it’s that she tends to wear her heart and intentions on her sleeve. As he takes the can of nuts in his hands–noting how light it is despite its supposed ‘contents’, of course–Claude has a feeling that this is another prank of hers.

“This? Sure, why not?” Cynthia’s pranks are harmless enough. And what was it that his mother always said? You can only find humility in failure. Claude has plenty of skills and talents, of course, but it’s better to be humble about it all than risk an inflated head. And so Claude opens the can.

With so many people from different countries in one place, the kitchen is looking to expand their recipes with more dishes from Fódlan and beyond! The Head Chef is holding a cooking festival, inviting any muse with a flair for cooking to put forth their new dish for a taste test! Cooking for the tryouts or trying out the cooking, what do you bring to the table? [Grants Authority +1]

Starter for @cynthero

Garreg Mach has made a terrific mistake.

“Why don’t you two try your hand at the cooking festival?”

Ewan had thought the Head Chef out of his tree, and had looked at him as such, eyes round. The mage blinked in confusion, glancing at Cynthia with brows furrowed before affixing his perplexed stare on the Head Chef anew. “I thought we were forever banned from the kitchen...?”

It was the Chef’s turn to sport a puzzled expression, head tilted to the side. Retrieving his ladle from the pot of stew before him, he shook his head in question. “No, I think I’d remember if I’d exiled a couple of kiddos like you. Make yourselves at home, the next round of competition starts soon.”

Ewan turned to look at Cynthia, eyes brimming with excitement. They could make up for their past transgression here, he was sure of it. (Even though he still didn’t really think their scientific research a crime worthy of the crummy punishment they’d been afforded, but, whatever.)