expedition holy war 🗡week 1 🗡thracia subteam 2

Rinea steers clear of negative emotions whenever she is able; when she disembarked the ship, it was all confusion and distress clawing at the already raw redness of her throat. When they were separated into teams, then smaller teams, all confidence was subdued into apprehension. 

She remained quiet other than a few pleasantries with lady Alear and the ladies sharing the dormitory wing with her. Jumbled thoughts rattled the crevices of Rinea’s brain with such intensity that all she could do was squirm when spoken to and eventually ask for an early night. 

Opposing sides of a war. A soldier that knows of her. Had she been a monster to many, for her name to resound so violently against the knight's armor? No, no, no, no, no no no no, my lord, you mustn't—

Nightmares wake Rinea later into the night, when the others are slumbering quietly in the vicinity. She is drenched in cold sweat. She cannot go back to sleep. While there is no memory of the contents of her dreams, bile gathers in her mouth together with frustration. 

There is no running away from the worst her heart has to offer. It would be smart to go for some fresh air, so she sneaks out towards the ramparts for a middle of the night promenade; fresh air and stargazing without bothering anyone will quell the fire before it starts.

She spots the assailants around the same time the sentry does. They rush past her, drag her back inside — for safety — then leave her in the middle of a staircase to rouse the rest of the castle. Seconds pass, then time halts. When the spark ignites, Rinea is past the point of wanting to suffocate it. 

Righteous rage gets her moving back to the dormitory the sentry is yet to reach; incertitude has no leg against her fury, and neither does the social construct of noble blood supposedly powering her system. She opens the door, thumps her way to her bedside, and grabs whatever clothing and weapon will ensure their survival.

“Wake up! Enemies are coming! Please, we should… we must fight!” One by one, Rinea shakes her companions. Those vagabonds will curse the day in which they prevented a maiden from brooding and fizzling her thoughts in peace.

[ CHAMPAGNE ] - "Ferdinand! Look what I haaave!" Hilda sang, raising two glasses of champagne. "An extra glass. And it's good stuff too. Could I tempt you...?" She began to proffer it and then pulled it back again, as though in second thought. "Although... It is a pretty good gift... What can you offer me in return, hm?" Tilting her head in mock thought, she continued, "Well, one of those beautiful roses would be a good place to start..."

“Hilda!”

her voice alone was enough to pull his attention from the ballroom swirl, and by the time he turned, Ferdinand was already smiling. candlelight caught against the champagne glasses in her hands, the pale gold sparkling almost as brightly as the look in her eye.

“an extra glass of good champagne?” he repeated, placing a hand dramatically against his chest. “you drive a dangerous bargain. but, I fear my principles are too strong to crumble under such temptation.” Ferdinand Von Aegir? the man of principle?

and yet, when she withdrew the glass again, his grin only sharpened. ah. there it was. negotiation.

his gaze flicked briefly toward the arrangements lining the ballroom, roses woven amongst ribbons and gold-threaded garlands. then back to her. “only one rose?” he asked jokingly, stepping closer. “for champagne of such quality, I would think House Goneril might demand an entire bouquet.”

still, he reached carefully toward one of the crimson roses tucked in a tight bouquet, plucking it free with surprising delicacy. he turned it once between his fingers before offering it to her—thinking it perhaps fresher then the others, if only it would live a little longer through exchanging hands.

“there,” Ferdinand said, placing the stem into her hand with an easy smile. “a beautiful rose, for a splendid thief. it might do you some good to take up responsibility over something this delicate.”

then, finally, he relieved her of the second champagne glass.

(Toss) Get all the cans to fall with just one toss of a ball and win a delightful prize! Ranging from plush toys to.. weapons? Either way, give it your best shot! (What? The stall owner, cheating? Nah… it can’t be.)

Ok something was definitely up. Both of them had hit the cans square in the center and they didn't move a bit.

"Hey what's the big idea here?" Camilla shouted. "We BOTH hit it square in the center! Those cans should be knocked over!"

"So sorry!" The stall owner grinned, not sorry at all. "Perhaps you aren't throwing hard enough.

"Oh yeah!? Catch this then!" Camilla launched her last ball, hard. It whizzed by the stall owner's head and dented the wall behind him. The impact shook the stall, making the pyramids of cans shuffle around while remaining mysteriously upright and in the same formation...

The monastery staff guarding the entrance were momentarily distracted. It was now or never! She walked towards the stairs, and...

"Oh! Edelgard!"

Hilda tried to look nonchalant. Edelgard wasn't a staff member, but she was a house leader, which was sort of the student version. She didn't know if she would care about her trespassing, but she didn't care to find out; the thought of getting on Edelgard's bad side was a thousand times scarier than whatever punishment the monastery could concoct.

"Cool ball, right?" she said casually, angling her body away from the stairs.

With how insensitively the guards had been chasing people away from the Goddess Tower, it left her to wonder what secrets the monastery was hiding away. Many, no doubt. The ground she stood on was full of them. She could not believe any nonsense reasoning the people at its employ told her— If they did know, they would pretend they didn't. They would usher her to the grand ball; shoo the princess to enjoy her evening and do anything else as long as it wasn't at the tower.

She'd not the thought to head into the tower herself after their tomfoolery, but was plenty content walking around its premise in hopes of observation. It took only but a beat to realize she wasn't alone.

Hilda?

When she heard her footsteps, she turned to face her. What was she doing over this direction? Shifting to block the path forward with her body, Edelgard crossed her arms in study of Hilda: "Yes, but I do believe the festivities themselves aren't exactly here. There's not much to see where we are now."

Send ♡ to see what my muse thinks of yours (accepting!)

○○○○○ | ATTRACTION ●○○○○ | AFFECTION ●●●●○ | INTEREST ●●○○○ | LOYALTY ●●○○○ | TRUST

"She is not someone I would typically have given much thought to, beyond our shared mission and that... less than pleasant time on the island, but... Hilda is among the very few I know of who have survived Rusalka twice, as I have.

For that alone, I feel an undeniable sense of alliance. Were we to find ourselves in the midst of another dangerous mission, I will endeavor to guard her from danger, and trust her to do the same.

"Baltie!" she trilled. "They're about to play a song from--- what are you wearing? Did you make your shirt?" With an eye for both detail and fashion, the handcraftsmanship had not gone unnoticed. She studied it for a moment before shaking her head. Not now! "Never mind, there's time for that later. They're about to play a song from home! You must know this one, right?"

She tucked a black feather into the brooch displayed on his lapel before dragging him to the dance floor. For a girl a foot-and-a-half smaller than him, she sure could muster a surprising display of strength when she wanted to.

“Oh, this? Bernie made it for me. It rocks, I know. Shows off the puppies while keeping it refined & modest.” He did a once over of… His own body. Real humble. But luckily for Hilda, she cut off his ego-stroking long before it got out of control. In a flash, Balthus found himself tailing his old friend, his ears listening for a familiar tune. 

And while the song was great and all–brought back memories both sour and sweet of his noble days–he frowned. He wasn’t as happy as Hilda might’ve expected him to be, or at all, really. Not when they reached the dance floor, not when he received the feather, not even when chocolate pearls met the gaze of that pair of strawberries. 

Because there was something heavy on his mind. And it wasn’t her. 

“Look, Hilda–” he raised his free hand in protest, digging through his outfit to produce a bell to bribe her with, “I know you like dancing and all, so I won’t put a stop to this,” He swallowed hard. The intro to the Leicster number was coming to a close; soon dancers would whirl about the floor as the first verse kicked in. He had all of fifteen seconds to spit it out. 

“But promise me you won’t tell Holst you’re letting people prance around with you tonight. He’ll do unspeakable things to me if he finds out I didn’t break the arms of anyone who tried.” 

Ironically, this month’s mishaps spurred a greater interest in the other countries and continents beyond Fódlan, with more and more students eagerly learning what they can about them. The Cooking Club, with their hands on an Ylissean cookbook, is putting out calls for some brave idiot to go and hunt a bear for a Ylissean-style roast. [Grants Axe +1]

Even though the dream is over, the people she’d seen in it still linger. So, too, does Copy— Hilda, she means. Probably the person she’s least excited to see, after it’s all done and over with. She doesn’t even know if Hilda recognizes her, and she’s absolutely not going to ask.

She’s sitting at a long table with Hilda and a few other students, and they’re all chattering amongst themselves. Someone enters, seems to address Hilda directly — talks about some sort of bear, or something, that needs to be killed for a brew of some sort.

Serra’s nose scrunches. She doesn’t like thinking about the interim between an animal in the wild and food on her plate. But she’s kinda surprised when Hilda passes up on the whole killing a beast thing; flicks it away from her as though it is a senseless offering. Wha—? How weird! She leans forward, eyes lit up with interest.

These aren’t your typical caves and tunnels. As you move from one burrow to the next, exploring myriad animal-made (and animal-sized!) tunnels, you must watch not only for territorial creatures but the potential for a cave-in. And what are you here for, you ask? Simple: your weapons didn’t shrink with you and you don’t know how long you’ll be stuck like this while you and your allies search for the perpetrator. You’ll need materials for weapons. Among the caves are crystalline mushrooms found only dark, tight spaces that release magical spores when touched. Be careful, lest you wind up with a few other maladies. [ Grants Axe +1 ]

@delicatevalentine

It’s so funny, this whole affair. Azama had never considered he’d get to witness such a different world view like this. They are small - not as small as ants, but all the squishier for it. All it’d take is a simple miss-step and 

SQUASH! The monk chuckles darkly to himself as he walks at Hilda’s side. Oh yes, amusing indeed...

Before she can think to side eye him with any manner of query or concern, Azama decides to cut her off.

“Ah, Hilda! Would you be a dear and hold this for me a moment? My weary old bones aren’t what they used to be, you see…”

And like that, he goes to hand off his sack of crystalline shards. It’s not very full yet, but they are nonetheless annoyingly heavy, he finds.

She wouldn’t refute a teacher, would she?

Before them loom narrow caverns - some manner of creature’s burrow, presumably. Rather quaint, all told.

And then:

“Ah! Look!”

An earthworm ambles along behind them, making its wriggling way in their direction.