#deliverred

[ TXT ] : Particularly about when one needs to get them.

[ TXT ] : I liked that shirt, but c'est la vie, I suppose.

[ TXT ] : Hopefully your day is filled with less dog bites than mine.

[ TXT ] :

He wonders what the broom is for, and if the little lantern on the end of the hat is lit with actual flames or some level of magic.

"I'd be quite curious to learn what inspired you to create such a costume -- perhaps as we collect what candy is left to be had in trick or treating?" he asks, gesturing to the moon high in the night sky. "After all, we only have so much time left to fill our pockets."

“UWAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH?!!?! WHAT IN LATONA’S HOLY BUTTCHEEKS IS THAAAAAAAAAT?!?!?!”

A shrill shriek pierced the cold night air as a little witch met his match. Vampires? He could handle. Devils and fellow witches alike were no trouble to him.

But this?! What even was this?!?! Ewan wasn’t sure what he was looking at. From shoes to neck he looked like a completely average guy, not even seeming to be dressed up as anything. But his face was perhaps the most disturbing thing he’s ever seen- and this coming from a native Magvelian, former home of giant demonic spiders and other nasties. It absolutely did not help that this person came from a small distance away, the lighting of street lanterns painting an even eerier picture.

“Grr.. WHATS THE BIG IDEA THERE, BUSTER?!” Embarrassed at being caught off guard so easily, he tried to cover previous fright with red hot anger instead. The boy’s cheeks were flushed pink as lips turned into a grimace, small fists clenching. “You think it’s funny, scaring innocent witches like this?! Ya got some nerve!”

♡ ˚·  @deliverred asked:

Time had passed with a surprising amount of swiftness while left to recover, and Lukas was glad of it when he saw those that had gone up above on their missions slowly begin to trickle back into the fortress. Perhaps it had been the...excitement...of the beast left behind in their care that made time fly. "Here, why don't you take a moment to rest," Lukas calls out to one, offering her the cot he'd been using up until now. It wasn't much, but it was somewhere to sit and recuperate for a moment. "Are you in need of a healer at all? Water, perhaps? I'm sure you've been on the move for quite some time."

She drifts like a soul lost, she feels much like one. When fear and survival become monotony, there is little else to be. Steps hardly touch the ground upon her return, eyes low and mind somewhere else entirely. They hardly think to stop at the man's call, acknowledge it only in passing, and nearly ignore it before she recognizes to whom he speaks.

"Oh, I..."

Instinct would have her deny the offer, but she pauses a moment too long and knows there is no gain in pretending she is anything other than exhausted. Her chin dips in a nod, grateful, and she sets herself gently on its edge.

"I'll be fine, there are others in far greater need," to be off her feet a moment is enough, to remember how it feels to breathe without the pounding of her heart in her throat.

And he should go on his way, perhaps, to give that concern of his to someone more deserving. Ishtar should let him, but she pauses. All these people who have helped her, all these faces she can only hope to see tomorrow...

But, all things considered, he doesn't look as bad as he likely should after that patrol. He was tired -- compounded by the fact that even making it back to the bunker meant doing so with poison coursing through his blood -- but nothing was broken.

"Dorothea, I'm glad to see you've returned safely," Lukas speaks up, voice a bit rough but no less relieved. "I hope things weren't as dire in the city as they were on the roads."

A small hope, and not one he particularly put much faith in, but it was still burning as of yet. Garreg Mach had fallen, but the rest of Fodlan's powers hopefully had not. Taken by surprise, likely suffering some fallout still, but standing better than the monastery was now.

He hesitates, uncharacteristically, before shaking his head and marching forward with his purpose.

"I would...ask something of you, if circumstances -- such as they are -- allow it," he starts, brow furrowed, "If you can at all avoid combat, please, I would ask that you do so. I'm well aware that this may be something you have to do, stretched as we are, but...I still wish for you to stay away from the fighting, Dorothea. Not because I think you weak or incapable, but because..."

He cared for her, quite dearly so, and he now knew it wasn't just their foes they had to be wary of. An ally could become an enemy in the blink of an eye, the flutter of a dread tome's pages.

He doesn't want her to face the violence of war, but even more than that, he could not bear the thought of her being caught unaware by a friend. Could not stand it if he were there at her side, meant to be her shield, and his own weakness is what leads to her bleeding out on a battlefield she should never have been forced onto.

"There are many foes out there that are a danger, but there is one that can take control of other people like dolls to a child. She can turn friend into foe, and they won't know what they've done until they come to with their weapon buried in a comrade."

He swore he would see her through this, but how could he do that when he was a possible danger to her as well?

nothing travels faster than bad news. dorothea takes to the makeshift infirmary the second she catches wind of who's been slotted for a stay, hurrying past friend and stranger alike to reach his side. a shuddering sigh of relief expels the moment she sees lukas is intact, though quickly does she tense upon realizing he appears unexpectedly shaken.

she sinks onto the spare chair besides his cot, consoled only the fact that he's here now, and not somewhere far beyond reach. a weak smile is mustered for him, intent on giving a friend nothing else to worry about. "i'm so glad you're back."

there are ways to sugarcoat without lying, just enough to safeguard a peace of mind. "things in the city are just as they've always been," she says, leaving lukas to draw his own conclusions. supplies are low. the destitute remain battered, and those who would seek to harm others continue to prowl the streets. the world turns as it always has. "not much has changed." 

when he hesitates, dorothea leans in closer so that he doesn't have to strain himself with projecting. her eyes search his quietly, unsure how to reveal what she's volunteered for this week. there's no guarantee she'll go, but still, would he forgive her if he knew? she opts to say nothing.

there is a fleeting second where she basks in the realization of how nice it feels to be looked after. how humanizing it is to have someone care for once, and for her life to be treated as one that matters like any other. in a perfect world, she would not have to fight. if she had her way, she would forever remain far from the battlefield, apart from the things that made her stomach plummet and sliced her heart open to bleed. but there is little choice here, and in the end, she knows necessity dictates all action. for all her bravado, there is a flicker of terror that draws across dorothea's face. he speaks of a reality she's come to fear long before any mention of strange magic or unseen foes.

the songstress shifts uncomfortably in her seat, quiet as she figures out what to say next."we'll promise each other something, then," is what she settles for. "you'll focus on getting better, and i won't let my guard down no matter what. i'll take everything you've said to heart and act only when necessary."

a little silliness, a little whimsy uwu

"I think this game must be some sort of custom here in Fódlan," Deirdre explains as she is challenged to a round of the pocky game by one of her fellow professors. He is still relatively new here and she remembers being surprised by the game when it was first introduced to her. "It has been played on this day every year since I arrived."

She is glad to accept the challenge though. It is a sweet game. A way to break the ice and spread a little joy and love throughout the monastery. The two of them each take a few little nibbles but footsteps soon approach.

"Professor Deirdre?" The voice of a student startles her.

"Professor Lukas!?" Another surprised voice joins the first.

"No way!" A third giggles as she speaks.

Deirdre turns her head to see who exactly is there and the pocky snaps in half. Her face turns a bright read as she is face to face with a group of female students who clearly think they've stumbled upon something completely different than an innocent, silly little game.

The lacquered veneer of the archipelago had long since come away for him.

"Ah, excuse me, I don't think I've seen you in the games. Have you been here for the majority of your stay?" Lukas asks, striking up conversation with one of the ever-dwindling group left behind on the central island. The only recognition he has is the difference in team colors, but there's an air about the man that he knows well enough. "If one can put up with the mixed company and odd conditions of our stay, it's rather enjoyable."

Red eyes glance over proud features, long hair and set posture.

"I'm not much for the sea myself; my house was firm in its roots to good horse land, and islands like these were little more than a fanciful story to us. Besides, I think I've rather had my fair share of getting tossed into the water while staying here."

He's seen this man before, on the island.

Only ever from a distance, enough to know that he had approached other members of Andrei's team. Armor sits just as stubbornly fitting on him as it had been on Marni, ill-matched for the weather yet still looking all too natural for his posture.

A knight, then, most likely.

Odd that he would approach him, weeks into this supposed vacation with small talk in mind, though there doesn't seem to be harm in a few words. Andrei nods.

"Yes, I suppose I have mainly stayed here," he says to the other's initial assumption. Aside from the brief foray into the jungles during the first few days, he had indeed been instructed to remain on the largest Central Island for the past weeks.

The sentiment the other proceeds to express is one he himself knows well, and Andrei inclines his head in agreement. "I too am much more accustomed to dry land," he admits. He'd been fortunate enough, even, to evade being submerged in the sole game he'd been a part of, and it is a pattern he wishes to uphold.

It does beget the issue that has been on his mind for some time, and Andrei continues after a pause. "And yet, aside from those allies that have been taken away, our continued participation is still being encouraged," he notes. The monastery does not seem worried in the slightest about so much of their number being secluded on this island for nearly a month, now, nor have they heard from the 'eliminated' since they were taken away.