you’ve  been  concerned  for  felix  ever  since  you  first  saw  him  enter  the  academy.   he’s  going  down  a  dark  path,   that  you  can  see  in  his  eyes  and  the  way  he  carries  himself.   you’ve  confronted  him  before,   given  him  advice,   then  backed  off  hoping  it  MIGHT  be  enough.   still,   it  hasn’t  quite  quelled  your  worries.

     he  seemed  so  surprised   when  you  had  offered  your  words  of  wisdom  it  was  almost  startling.   you  did  not  know  rodrigue  personally,   he  SEEMED  like  a  decent  father  on  the  outside,   but  you  also  picked  up  on  the  strain  felix  had  with  him.   it’s  not  his  place  to  pry,   of  course,   after  all  it  is  just  an  observation.

     and  it  hurts .  it  hurts  to  know  that  he  refuses  to  rest  when  he  should ,  that  he  would  rather  work  his  body  until  he's  almost  falling  apart ;  hurts  that  as  long  as  he  can  keep  going ,  he  will .  he's  always  been  fierce .  always  had  a  sword  in  his  hand .  but  glenn's  death ,  so  many  years  ago  now  (  but  still  just  as  fresh  in  his  mind ,  you're  sure  )  changed  him .  took  his  emotionality  and  replaced  it  with  anger .  took  his  tears  and  replaced  it  with  a  fervor  to  keep  training ,  to  keep  going ,  despite  any  harm  to  himself .  he's  not  who  he  was  when  you  were  children  ---  there  are  sharper  edges ,  now ,  and  if  you're  not  careful  you'll  slice  your  hand .  (  but  you  still  love  him .  of  course  you  still  love  him .  you  always  have ,  and  you  think  you  always  will .  )  (  maybe  one  day  you'll  even  tell  him .  on  your  deathbed ,  or  his  ---  it's  the  same  either  way .  )  

     so  you  agree  to  train  with  him .  (  despite  how  tired  you  are  of  the  fighting .  how  tired  you  are  of  the  war ,  and  of  having  to  watch  people  die ,  and  of  having  to  kill .  )  because  it's  what  he  wants .  what  he  needs .  so  you  lean  against  the  wall ,  not  looking  at  your  axe .  instead  looking  at  him ,  halfway  across  the  room  and  beautiful .    ❝  now  normally  i'd  say  don't  go  easy  on  me ,  but  i  don't  think  you've  ever  gone  easy  on  anything  in  your  entire  life .  ❞    the  corner  of  your  mouth  lifts .  flirting  is  easy .  flirting  is  what  you  know ,  how  you  cope .  you  quirk  your  eyebrow .    ❝  so . . .  are  you  gonna  come  over  here  or  do  i  have  to  go  over  there ?  ❞

            his  back  is  to  her.  this  isn’t  strange,  necessarily,  if  it  weren’t  that  she’d  caught  him  somewhere  between  the  docks  and  the  dorms  walking  a  little  aimlessly  in  a  way  that  wasn’t  like  him.  she  isn’t  sure  if  she’s  imagining  it  or  if  its  the  light  or  if  he  really  does  stiffen  up,  the  way  a  cold  breeze  turns  you  unyielding -  she  expects  at  least  a  glance  ( she  could,  after  all,  expect  that  much  of  felix )  and  receives  nothing  of  the  sort.  not  even  a  half  -  curious  twitch.

            that  is  strange.

            ‘  this  is  the  first  time  you  weren’t  in  the  first  place  i  looked,  ’  she  says  lightly.  ‘  ...  were  you  training  today ?  i’d  planned  to  myself,  and  it’s  probably  due  time  i  paid  you  back  for  your  victory.  ’  

            a  smile  touches  the  corners  of  her  mouth,  but  the  furrow  of  her  brow  is markedly  unsure.

felix, taking one look at chrom: im gonna fight h

     you  have  known  him  nearly  your  whole  life .  (  you  can’t  imagine  a  you  existing  without  a  him .  )  so  he  knows  you  better  than  nearly  anyone  else ,  has  seen  how  you  are  with  everyone  else  you’ve  ever  dated .  (  although  you  don’t  feel  like  dating  is  an  accurate  descriptor  of  the  two  of  you .  it  falls  flat ,  somehow .  )

     your  fingers  move ,  gently ,  in  his  hair ,  braiding  the  next  section .

     he  knows ,  from  your  childhood ,  how  much  you  enjoy  this .  he  also  knows  that  you’ve  never  once  braided  the  hair  of  any  of  the  women  you’ve  dated  over  the  years .  a  small  smile  makes  its  way  to  your  face .  you  pause ,  press  a  loving  kiss  to  the  top  of  his  head ,  and  then  continue  braiding .    ❝  i  dunno ,  fe .  i  don’t  think  it’s  selfish  at  all .  ❞    you  know  what  it’s  like .  to  feel  special  because  of  the  difference  in  treatment .  (  you  know  that  you  could  ask  felix  to  do  anything ,  and  he  would .  )  (  you  know  that  he  could  ask  you  to  do  anything ,  and  you  would .  )  

     you  think  you  could  live  in  this  moment  forever .  (  your  hands  in  his  hair ,  your  heart  in  his  hands .  )  you  know  it  will  have  to  end  eventually  —  his  hair  is  long ,  but  not  so  long  that  you  could  braid  indefinitely .  (  besides ,  your  hands  begin  to  hurt  after  too  much  time  spent  on  fine  motor  skills .  )  but  you  also  know  that  there  will  be  more  moments  just  like  this  one  in  the  future .  

                                          meta meme / acc / @emperorcrest

                 lucina did not get a chance to grow up with her parents. lissa and frederick, both raised her with stories of chrom. the hero, the exalt, and her father. as a child she cuts her hair off, and the first time lissa see her, lissa cries. and it’s the first time that chrom becomes something other than a story of someone lucina would never meet. the first thing lucina realized she inherited was chrom’s face.

                 the second thing that lucina realized that she inherited was the title of falchion itself. she walked through the villages with owain. practicing sword play and doing her best to try to protect the people within them from being over run by the risen. at first she did this with very little success, often needing to be rescued herself by villagers or frederick. 

                 but, as time grew and her sword skills grew, hopes grew. the new exalt, strong and beautiful protecting the people with all she had. the hero and leader, the exalt, that frederick and lissa had intended her raise her to before they ever realized. she considers the title a gift she does not deserve, despite her efforts to protect the people of ylisse. she would never consider what she had done to be enough.

                             rosh hashanah starters / acc / @emperorcrest

                chuckle and smile do escape at that one, it’s so frustrating to see people who were not apart of your shared faith blowing the shofar. in grima’s name it’s killing you a little bit. when the world was nothing but fire, you had aunt lissa’s tales of your grandmother’s religion. kept in hush whispers from your tyrannical grandfather and passed to an aunt you would never been you never be blessed enough to meet. 

               may emm’s memory be a blessing. she would always whisper to you, morgan, and owain as she place singed but well worn holy books before the three of you. scrolls of a people with no homeland, your grandmother’s people. not lost to time, but kept alive in yourself even when soil turned ash and the risen trudged through every village. you were still alive, morgan was still alive, owain was still alive. those stories kept alive in your hearts, in your minds, and in your souls. 

                the pull to your culture is something you always  feel at it’st strongest during the crispness of autumn, as the leaves turn and the high holy days approach. aunt lissa had pressed the shofar into your hand first of the children, after all you are the oldest. the blast meant to awaken you from the pain of the year before. it’s a holy sound, one could argue the second holiest sound in your entire religion. 

                    “   then we just need to get one, and blow it for ourselves. jews only.   ”