#eir support

the princess understood that the mage had her fair understanding of magic as a skill— indeed, she put it into incredible use, on occasions which has, more than once, saved her life. still, her tenacity against prince alfonse— a man who had, quite literally, aided her in putting an end to death herself, was rather formidable. but it brings the thought of prince dimitri back to her mind, and eir frowns.

“in the end, i wasn’t... i couldn’t defeat him. dimitri.” eir’s gaze stay fixed on her hands, quiet. perhaps, if she had tried a little more... she would not have been so easily defeated. although she does not regret losing to prince dimitri, in particular, eir does regret the fact she could not aid the golden deer in it’s final stretch. the now-sealed gap in her chest was proof she could not do enough. eir shakes her head, meeting mitama’s eyes. “... but i hope i did not disappoint you, nor claude.”

Having not seen her since shortly after their forest venture, Mitama is surprised to see Eir so eagerly calling out to her. Surprised, but not displeased. Mitama smiles and gives a quick bow as she approaches the other. She looks, quite bluntly, banged up, and Mitama can guess by her claimed cot that her final fight did not go as planned. A shame.

“I did.” Ah, yes. Alfonse and her were from the same realm, correct? So much to keep track of... “Admittedly it was much easier than I anticipated. Perhaps I should forsake healing entirely and become a frontline combatant? Seems I have my father’s knack for it.”

A jest, mostly. The effort of being at the front of the fray is more than Mitama is willing to deal with, and she is far more content helping others than ending their lives.

It is the name of Eir’s challenger that catches Mitama’s attention again. She laughs, mirth missing as she instead ponders the thread. “Wyvern on the loose / rampaging across the field / His wings should be clipped...” Eir looks no where near as beaten as Claude does, however, and Mitama can relax a touch. “Such devastation for a mock exercise...you would think their Archbishop was preparing for something.” Now there was a thought. Mitama would have to spare that a ponder later.

Her concern for now is in the moment, especially after Eir’s statement. Mitama blinks, staring at Eir in open surprise. “Disappoint me?” Had she... “If I speak in all honesty, I held no expectations for you at all. You are my classmate, not my ward.” And yet...the sentiment is far more familiar than Mitama is comfortable with.

The shrine maiden takes a seat next to the wolf and sighs. “You fought to your greatest ability. None can ask for more than that. And should Claude express anything dissimilar to my own thoughts, he is a hypocrite and a fool. After all, his loss to the Wyvern was far more severe than your own. Have you seen his face?” Mitama looks to Eir and smiles. “Grotesque. Unfortunate, really. He admittedly had a charm about it before.”

To outfit herself with further accessories upon her head proves to be a difficult task to see through, but Eir manages nevertheless. As a most anticipated result, nestled somewhat comfortably between her antlers are two white, faux-furred cat ears, picked out rather carefully of the old smattering of props and accessories laid out upon the table before her. The projectionist had explained their purposes, odd and new to the princess as they were. And though the novelty of these superfluous additions to liven the physical memoirs of the night would not escape her for the next foreseeable hours, Eir had been more than happy to comply for if merely for the sake of her friends. Now, if only she might manage to find a suitable accessory or prop for her partner…

“… Ah, a pink one.” The discovery comes quicker than she expects; there isn’t quite any will in her to dare question the existence of pink cats, but the princess is glad to find one that matches her friend all the same. It is a near perfect shade, only a hue lighter than the colour of Mitama’s hair— but Eir is more than certain that the flash of the artifex would blend them together. Slender hands lift the headgear upwards, gesturing towards the other with a near childish earnest. There is a grin on Eir’s face, one most unlike her; she leans downwards to place the cat ears gently atop Mitama’s head.

Though she deigns not to admit it, one can almost swear that when her teeth show with the smile, accompanied with it is the faint tone of a laugh beneath. With a soft flick of her tail, Eir gestures politely towards the photo-artifex. “One for the both of us. Shall we?”

The table holds a wide array of accessories one can chose from, more than Mitama thought she might ever have the time to properly examine. She hums quietly to herself as she looks all of them over, eyes lingering over toy frogs and blank signs and empty pie tins...A variety of objects for the most creative of minds.

Mitama's creativity unfortunately lies in her words, not her practical applications. This provides quite the puzzle for her.

Thankfully, Eir seems better prepared. Mitama is too busy inspecting the table for an idea to catch what it is Eir is mumbling about, but catches her approaching from the corner of her eye. Mitama lifts her head to find Eir waving her over and, curious, tilts her head as bidden. While Eir slides the headband atop her head, Mitama's eyes drift upwards to Eir's.

Cat ears. Sitting inconspicuously amidst Eir's antlers.

...Mitama wonders what Selkie or Velouria would think of this accessory.

It is easy enough to connect the dots and determine what Eir has just placed on Mitama's crown. The shrine maiden holds patiently still until Eir pulls her hands away. To Mitama's great surprise, the woman is smilling. Not that Eir had never smiled before, but this is so much different from the timid, reserved woman Mitama had seen in classes. No, the Eir standing before her smiles and laughs with all the mirth in the world and Mitama finds, softening, that it would be cruel to deny her.

kiss me to forget

Mitama is not blind to the thought that Eir might have some sort of fondness towards her.

Nothing forward or assuming. No, Mitama cannot imagine the seeds for an all-consuming passion might have ever been planted in the few instances of conversation between them. Something softer, perhaps? The kindling of a flame, first sparked in the forest maze between bouts of poison and combat before blossoming further. It is easy to see, in the quiet glances. The soft words. The unexpected concern.

Mitama is not blind. But she is not cruel either. She know it is there, knows in turn that it is a flame never meant to be fostered, and so she turns a blind eye. Ignore it. She thinks, and perhaps the fates will be generous enough to spare Eir the suffering.

(She cannot. It would be cruel, for one thing, to foster something meant to end when they part and return to where they are destined for. For another, Mitama finds quite simply that she cannot fathom the same immediate response, cannot imagine it being as simple as that. After all she had passed, to latch onto someone so quickly? Foolish. Dangerous.)

So she allows it to pass without comment, hoping politely for the other's sake that the candle will burn itself to a soft finish. Or at least, that is her intent.

How they end up here, in quiet solitude with only the night sky as their backdrop, Mitama is not sure. She stands on a staircase looking down to Eir, who stares up at her with soft reflecting lights, as though the stars are in Eir's eyes and not Mitama's...She looks at her with that softly burning candle in them, and Mitama's heart pangs sympthetically.

(It is unfair. It is cruel. She should know better.)

But Mitama smiles softly, sadly instead and leans down. Her lips are feather light as they brush against Eir's, a ghost of a memory of a true kiss. She lingers only a heartbeat in length before backing away.

“Mitama,” she attempts, gently. Her voice is barely audible within the space between them, an undertone to the dull chatter of the hall. “May I have a word?”

She stirs slightly, and Eir hesitates, retracting her hand and quickly following with, “If you do not wake… I suppose I can simply leave this beside you.”

A white box with pink accents is placed beside Mitama, neatly packaged and wrapped with a red ribbon. Eir murmurs an apology before taking her leave. “My apologies for disturbing you, and… Happy Day of Devotion, Mitama.”

Mitama finds that for all its overindulgent connotations and ideals, she rather enjoys the so-called Day of Devotion that plagues its way through the Academy.

For one, she receives an abundance of sweets, unexpected by far and from sources she had not thought to consider so generous with their giving. Any affair that gave Mitama reason to indulge in chocolate and other sweets was a day worth some level of admiration in her mind.

(The accompanying confessions or implications were a nuisance, but she could ignore them so long as they asked nothing of her.)

The second benefit was that so often, students would be so caught up in their conceptions of the day, Mitama would find many of the usual crowded areas devoid of life as they fretted about over the day.

Mitama was delighted to find her beloved napping spot in the main hall devoid of students who might ruin her rest. Uncharacteristically quiet, and with sunlight trickling in from the high windows, it did not take long for Mitama to find a spot to curl up and drift away into pleasant dreams of sweet and comfort and no people to bother her with unwanted confessions.

She thinks she hears familiar voices in her sleep. Soft ones that urge her to wake and speak of promises. Mitama does not wake to confirm the dream.

When she does wake, the sun has gone low in the sky. The hall is still relatively empty, and Mitama can stretch languidly and yawn without shame of being spotted as she shakes the sleep from her limbs. Her elbow knocks an unfamiliar box next to her upon the table. She hums curiously. "What is this now?"

There is no reason to suspect the gift is for her, and yet Mitama cannot imagine who else might be the intended recipient. She carefully unties the package and finds...far more than she expected.

A soft pillow is the first thing she notices, with fine embroidery that she cannot quite read. Stars shine out at her in a golden thread that she traces her fingers over gently. Alongside the pillow are more expected gifts; ink and a new brush, elegantly carved. Her own is still in good use, but is a simple thing compared to the piece of artistry she finds now. She does not think she ever had the funds to indulge so much in such finery...her fingers run gently over the bristles in awe.

Finally, mochi, delicious and long missed. The sight pangs a string of nostalgia in her chest as she delicately plucks the note. Remember to chew...what curious instructions. She frowns curiously at the note. Not a Hoshidan sender then, to have sent such peculiar instructions.

She wonders who then the sender might be. The voice from her dream lingers curiously in the back of her mind. Certainly, it had been a voice she had known. Someone at the Academy she had spoken to enough for their voice to make an impact upon her mind. And yet, Mitama still cannot place just who it might have been.

She smiles to herself as she gathers up her new possessions. How unexpected...and yet, completely appreciated. She wonders, when she determines who might have been so thoughtful, what a suitable recompense will be.

76 Reasons

Mitama only has herself to blame for having no bearing on the subject of conversation. Though if asked, she would certainly argue that it was not her fault either.

Eir continued to speak and Mitama would feel guilty and apologize for her lack of attention later. For now, she continued to sit silently across from the woman and watch, eyes strayed lower from the other's to rest at her lips as she watched them form the shape of the words she spoke so delicately.

(She speaks so much more freely than those first hesitant days in the forest. There is something to be in awe of there, the slow growth of a flower through the hard earth after winter's frost.)

...she should really be shifting to pay attention again.

Eir's hand comes to rest atop the table and Mitama takes it without thinking. Silence finally falls between the two and it takes Mitama a moment for her gaze to drift far enough to realize that it is because Eir is now staring at her, silent and confused. Heat colors Mitama's cheeks. "Ah, pardon, I simply..."

Was distracted. Was not listening. Was thinking of other things. Dusk take her...

Mitama falls silent a moment before she lets out a quiet sighs. "Apologies." It is unfair to blame her distraction on the subject of it, but could she really be expected to nto be taken in by so stark a chance. If the fates have decided to strip her of attention, then who is she to fight their whims? "And apologies for this as well."

There is no great fanfare, no spectacle to it that makes the moment a stark contrast from just a moment before. Mitama shifts closer, grips Eir's hand tighter, and gives the woman every opportunity to stop or retreat before slowly, gently, she leans in and kisses her.

kiss me beneath the milky twilight

For once in her life, Mitama is acutely aware of the messy state her room is in. There are clothes on the floor and books scattered about and a general state of disarray that she cannot do anything about in this moment. All she can do in the here and now is ignore it, sit on her bed, and hope the hand that Eir holds does not betray her worries.

"Palm reading is admittedly not a strength of mine." She confesses to the other woman. She is not quite sure what exactly Eir searches for as her fingers trail along her palm, but she is not in any rush to stop her either. It is a little ticklish, but Eir makes an effort to be so gentle and delicate that Mitama cannot even bring herself to squirm.

"There are some who excel at it but I am not among that number..." Something soft presses to her palm, colder than her own temperature. It takes Mitama a moment to realize, having expected something warm.

She hums thoughtfully, looking to Eir. The gesture is sweet...Mitama catches her fingers on the other's chin and turns her head to look Mitama's way. "There are less subtle ways, you know." She jests, but her smile is kind.

no Soft some Hurt

Mitama does not want anyone's pity.

She is a war veteran. She's killed as many people as she's saved, she's faced men and dragons who think themselves gods and she's survived, barely scarred, and spat in fates face again and again and again.

She's lived a lifetime in a handful of years and came to Fodlan on a whim. She's fought and fought again even when she didn't want to and she's survived and grown and survived every single encounter.

She does not want anyone's pity.

Eir means well. She knows this. She does not know Mitama's life. She knows this. And yet listening to the other woman speak as though she does, attempt to comfort as though she does, Mitama can feel her jaw clenching and fists tightening and that damn temper sparking up again even as she tries to just breathe and think.

Eir means well. Mitama knows this. But she did not ask for anyone's pity when war shaped her life. She did not ask for anyone's pity when war took her father. She certainly did not ask for anyone's pity when Father left her behind like an afterthought and not a daughter with nothing to her name except a reputation and some words.

She is not asking for anyone's pity now.

"Eir." Her voice is a crack through the silence and she does not wish for it to be, but she knows herself enough to know it's now, or worse later. "I appreciate what you are attempting. But if you continue pressing it, my next response will not be as polite."

“mitama, i—“ the words halt themselves at the bypass of her lips, fumbling to seal themselves shut as eir realises, belatedly, how sudden she must be coming off. a pause is given, a brief moment to ponder her next words— eir picks them out as carefully as removing flowers of their ends. “… wanted to say goodbye. it is likely we will not have the chance to hear from one another for quite some time.”

there’s a shift in her expression, something that borders on concern and sincerity; eir continues.

“… i know well that we have all grown from our last mission,” she murmurs. at the thought of the ordeal within the sealed forest, her eyebrows crease slightly, only a little short of a frown. eir had begun to grow wary of the missions as issued by the church, though the matter was kept close to her chest. “but forgive me, for worrying. i cannot help but believe that this is no matter less than unsettling.”

“… please, be careful.” eir finishes, hesitantly. she would have offered mitama a hug, had she been less nervous of the other’s boundaries. “i would be at a loss should anything happen to you.”

Mitama had, admittedly, lost track of Eir during the time from the Battle of the Eagle and Lion until now. Much had come to pass since then, and it was natural (although unfortunate), that the two had not had time to talk again since then. Mitama wished they could have seen each other again under more pleasant circumstances.

She waits patiently for Eir to sort through her words, nodding in understanding wherever appropriate. "Goodbye may, perhaps, be a touch dramatic for our departure, no?" Mitama laughs. "At the very least, I hope it to be."

Her smile shrinks at the memories of the forest and Mitama shakes her head. "No, I do not blame you for such worries. In truth, I have little faith we will not find ourselves faced with the same threats, though I hope otherwise. All the same..."

Eir hesitates, hovering, so Mitama moves first, reaching out to take Eir's hand and squeeze it reassuringly. She holds it delicately between her two palms and smiles as best as she can. "You fared well in the forest, for all the deficits stacked against you. I am certain you will be plenty capable in this as well, but...do try your best to avoid any unnecessary risks."