#eagerfutureflame

@eagerfutureflame witch's accord round 2!

With two more candies in his total, Lukas finds himself quite pleased with how things are turning out for him. Forsyth kept his word as promised, but it looks like a handful of pairs that haven't been truthful. For as many people walked away from the last round with an early lead, their victims barely hold onto their last piece.

The young boy here is one of them: his partner last round walked away with Betray on his bracelet, while this one still bears Ally. The same decision as Lukas, but with the opposite outcome.

The slant of the sun cut across the market centre like a knife, alighting upon the merchant announcing his wares. Ingrid glared, brow furrowed deeply as he unveiled his latest attraction.

A magical sword, caught in an ancient, enchanted stone.

She scoffed, clutching her bundles of food she had purchased from one of the new stalls that had just opened. Buttery pastries and mouth watering meats had been on display, and she’d woken early that morning to visit the stall and get her hands on the freshest of their food before the crowds began to gather.

She’d been on her way back to the monastery, looking forward to enjoying a quieter morning with her still-warm treats and perhaps her favourite book. But the merchant had been all but shrieking in the square, and she’d been unable to resist the curiosity that had burgeoned between her ribs.

What could possibly warrant such melodrama? And at such an early time, too?

It was with disbelief that she realized it was a scam. The merchant was a phenomenal performer, and had she not been so familiar with similar cons she might have been fooled.

Maybe. Although perhaps she should give herself more credit; she was no fool and it was so obvious that something like this could not be true.

If the stone were truly enchanted then the merchant should not have been able to move it from the place where it had been enchanted. And if the sword were magical it likely already would have been extracted, not even enchanted rock able to hold it in place.

And if it were truly a magic sword, and an enchanted stone, then the Church surely would have already gotten their hands on it and squirreled it away somewhere it could be protected and studied.

There was no way this was real, absolutely not.

Ingrid considered turning on her heel and heading back to the monastery, her peaceful morning beckoning her onwards. But it was the sigh of a fellow classmate that held her in place, glowering at the merchant much in the way she had been before.

She was pretty sure his name was Ewan, a new student she had only just met. He was small for his age, his face still boyish and round. She might have mistaken him for one of the local children had she not already met him, had not already witnessed his skill with magic.

She called out his name, waving furiously with her free hand. “Ewan, hey! Hey, what are you looking at?!”

"Happy Winter Festival! So glad I could find you here!" He rummaged through his bag for a moment, before pulling out a longer, thin present. Inside were three things: one of them was a bundle of arrows, but something was different about them. The arrow tip was as glowing slightly red. The second was as vial with a red liquid that seemed to sparkle in the light. The third was a bag of small sugar candies.

“They’re fire arrows! I read that archers generally struggle against armor. But with these babies that won’t be a problem! Just let one fly, and these arrows will target their resistance against magic instead! Oh but- you don’t need to be a mage to use them! Don’t worry about that!” He explained with an excited grin. He just knew that it was the perfect present for any archer friends he might’ve had! “Oh and with the vial, just dip an arrow in them and they’ll become fire arrows! They’re a little less potent, but they should still be effective!”

Then, were he to look at the very bottom of the box, there was a little drawing. It featured one short red haired figure and a tall long haired figure, both of them having big smiles.

Andrei had not expected to see much of Ewan again after their brief meeting during the game. Even as he'd made the choice to end the game on a positive note between them, their circumstances within the walls of the monastery were not the same, and they share few areas of expertise or interest that would be conducive to furthering any kind of relationship, friendly or otherwise.

As such, the surprise at the other's consideration renders Andrei silent and still as Ewan approaches with the gifts, his explanation showing the thought he'd put into the present. The arrows themselves were of a good make, the extra mechanism a novelty, but not without its uses.

"...You truly believe in the best of others, do you not?" he asks, though there is no disapproval in his tone, merely something between bewilderment and wonder. That this had been specially prepared, that the fragile bonds of temporary camaraderie formed over the course of a short conversation had mattered enough to Ewan for him to do this...

Andrei reaches into the bag of sugar candies, withdrawing three and holding them out to the other, the same gesture he had offered at the end of the game. The boy seems to be of the stance that joy is to be shared, and Andrei would not deny him this, on this day. "Your portion," he says, the briefest twitch of a smile on his lips.

"Happy Winter Festival, Ewan," he echoes the boy's earlier greeting, "I'm grateful for the gift."

He pulled out a black box with a red ribbon out of his bag, handing it to Sylvain. Inside was two things: a fancy looking hand mirror, perfect in case Sylvain needed to look at himself on the go. The second gift was a small jar with a sparkly powder. “This is warp powder! Not the super powerful stuff, but If you’re ever in a hairy situation, you can use it to poof yourself out of there! You’ll reappear a little ways further off!” He explained. Ewan imagined it would come in handy in case he ever had to handle some nasty criminals, but Sylvain could probably use it too to avoid the wrath of the feminine kind….

Sylvain finds himself entirely caught off guard. The Winter Festival had never been something to celebrate, really. Just another frozen day in Faerghus' northern tundra, stuck making pleasantries with his horrifically dysfunctional family. Wonderful. It had never been worth the effort. He might exchange cards with Ingrid, buy his mother a gift in an attempt to play the dutiful son. Beyond that it was a holiday he'd rather forget about.

So he's naturally completely unprepared for one of his new classmates to offer him a gift. Usually glib and garrulous Sylvain finds himself, momentarily at least, silenced.

It hadn't even occurred to him that Ewan might consider him a friend, but the box on his hands certainly suggests such a thing. The contents don't matter - he is trying to listen to Ewan's speech but finds himself distracted. Friends, huh? Sylvain had no expectations of making new friends at Garreg Mach, didn't need any more. Had plenty enough people to care about already. Yet he finds himself accepting the gift, quiet and pensive. He wants to be Ewan's friend. Strange, how such a simple gesture could evoke such a powerful response.

"Thanks, Ewan. It means a lot but--" guilt's cold fingers squeeze his gut. He hadn't even thought to do such a thing for the mage. Had nothing to offer in return, no token of friendship of his own. Woefully underprepared, Sylvain's hand reaches to the back of his neck sheepishly. "I didn't get any gifts. Don't really celebrate to be honest."

Does he always sound so selfish? He needs something.

When he was looking into what the man likes, it seemed like. He enjoys injuries? Huh.. well each to their own, he supposed! Ewan had his own present ready, but made sure to wear gloves before handing it to the man.

“Hiya!! Mister tattoo man hi!!” He called out to him. “Happy winter festival!! Thanks for everything back at the Arena- I got a present for you!!” He then pulled out a black box with a grey ribbon.

Inside it was what appeared to be.. a half unwrapped nut bar? That sure seemed like a weird present. Were Griss to touch it though, a painful electric shock would be soon to follow! It was a magic gag gift Ewan found at a prank store. It was way too painful for him to use, but he figured that made it perfect for a present for the spiky tattoo man! “What do you think? Shocked? Hope you enjoy it!”

"Mister Tattoo---" Bewildered would be the understatement of a lifetime for the look on Griss' face when he turns his head (why? the novelty of the name, probably, or the fact that he knows - unconsciously - that he's the only one to ever fit the bill). Expecting someone taller, his eyes drop down to the kid shouting something about a winter festival and the arena and--

The furrow between Griss' brow smooths out as recognition cracks open a toothy smile to match Ewan's in all but good will.

"Oh, it's you." Ear drops to one shoulder, arms hanging limp, the whites of his eyes flashing as he eyes the kid at an angle. All attempts - however unconscious - to frighten away any olive branch or friendly hand. Nothing good ever came out of being nice.

"A thank-you gift, huh?" In other words, a reward. The sight of the box straightens him up into one piece again and he reaches for it. "This better not be some sappy--" He rips the lid off, letting it drop unappreciated to the ground beside his feet, and then his eyebrows knit together again. "What's this?" Upper lip curls. Half eaten candy? Fully intending to throw it back at the kid with some quip about keeping his trash to himself, Griss grabs it--

"!!"

-- and drops it, along with the box, instinct reacting like he'd been bitten. Then consciousness catches up. A glance at his hand, then at the half-eaten bar on the ground, and he kneels to grab it again. This time he doesn't drop it.

"Hahaha! Not bad, kid." With each tickling shock delivered by the prank toy, his grasp around it tightens, his laughter pitching up and down with delight. As he stands, he tosses it into his other hand and with his now free arm, claps Ewan on the shoulder, hard enough to be a punch and maybe not entirely good-natured. One might even think it retaliatory, were it not for the grin on his face.

“Hiya, nice to meet you!!” Ewan greeted the man as he barely had the chance to sit down. “My Name’s Ewan, guess we’ll be table buddies for tonight! A pleasure!” He greeted with a cheerful smile. He wanted to give the best impression possible, after all! And a friendly smile and innocent eyes were always a good place to start.

reyson's usual scowling expression disappeared immediately as his gaze shifted toward the one sitting beside him. an adorable little thing, but despite his diminutive height clearly not a child, per se. he extended a hand as he sat, delight and amusement on his face.

even without his heron empathy, the excitement radiating from the boy was noticeable. "a pleasure to meet you as well, ewan. you seem to be in good spirits."

“I’ll win this game…!” Ewan spoke with a determined voice. He placed one of the cookie sticks between their lips and slowly nibbled, getting more and more flustered and nervous the closer they get. But he wasn’t gonna give up! He was gonna win!

Ewan's actually kind of cute. The realisation hits Sylvain like a ton of bricks. Sure, he'd thought of the younger man as adorable in his youthfulness before but... this was something else entirely.

He finds it hard to hold his gaze.

Still, he's way too experienced at this game to just roll over and let him win. The end up a mere hair's breadth apart and Ewan isn't backing down. Sylvain's stomach flips. He ignores the sensible part of his conscience and closes the gap tentatively. His lips move slowly against Ewan's before he pulls away, face as red as his hair.