#exaliant

Jaw set and will focused, Aqua raised her hand, summoning her weapon to it in the blink of an eye and a flurry of petals. It felt so right in the moment, as if anything were possible-- The familiarity tugged at her heart and lifted her spirit. But even as she raised it towards the sky, the magic which stirred around her felt... Inadequate, as if its purpose was not that which she willed it to be.

Brow furrowing, the girl pressed her lips together and forced the magic upwards, outwards, channeling it out and around the blade, willing it to become something greater-- Only to fire a Magic Pulse, the iridescent orbs spreading out and around the immediate area before dissipating. It was nowhere near the transformation she had sought... In fact, it was the only spell besides Barrier that she’d even been able to perform since she got here. With a cry of frustration, Aqua threw down her blade, running her hand through her hair. As she did so, she caught sight of another, and realized she wasn’t quite as alone in the bamboo grove as she originally thought.

          ❝Oh--! Who’s there? I didn’t accidentally hit you with that spell, did I? I should’ve been more careful...❞

to be fair i probably would have as well. but you’re right.

as sylvain would say “we will get you some pussy bro”. is. is that the phrase?

The war had ended, and Fodlan was united. That had brought comfort to many people, Dedue not specifically amongst them. It’s not that he didn’t wish for peace, of course he wished for it -- peace meant that his friend, his  King would be safe, or as safe as someone in his position could be. It was just that when the people of Faerghus and indeed many parts of Fodlan looked at you with disdain, it was hard to feel anything but that in return.

Dedue always seen Dimitri as other -- separate from the people of Fodlan, one willing to look past his Duscur face and allow him to be his friend and confidant. That had made him feel something, and for a long time Dedue had dedicated his life to being the most loyal and steadfast vassal he could be.

He could prove the people of Fodlan wrong; though in their years at Garreg Mach Dedue had warned others not to speak with him or associate with his person in any way due to his nationality, he now knew the truth. The people of Duscur were innocent, and all the hatred that had been hurled at him, all the insults both to Dedue and His Majesty had to endure… they were baseless.

The thought had always made Dedue sad, and today was no different. He closed the door to his townhouse and shivered a little in the cold; it would do to purchase a coat today. As he turned to walk down the street and explore this new ward a sudden sense of ease rushed over him, the figure that stood only a few feet away with his back turned looked awfully like…

armor absolutely counts! practice safe sparring!

The sight of him now, after all this time, has Felix so conflicted he can’t breathe. It should not be this achingly complicated, but his clenched fists are bone-white and sharp. He could shatter glass, with his knuckles pointed like that.

He doesn’t know what to say, here and now and without war looming over his head like a hammer about to fall down upon him.

After all, it wasn’t as if he didn’t like to dance. It was more so the expectation that if it wasn’t done perfectly, you risked making a fool of the place you came from. Nobility really did have their share of troubles, and Ashe doubted stepping on the toe of a potential suitor was the worst of it.

He groans, a little more than deflated in their effort. 

“I hope the trinkets made up for wasting your time, Your Highness. I’ll keep trying to find something, but I’m afraid we’ve run out of material for the moment.” he’d taken to checking books out from the library and taking them home. Doing so made it easier to fall asleep in the midst of a good read. The trinkets in question were shiny figurines depicting the so-called history of the holiday the city was celebrating, but Ashe couldn’t say he totally understood it. 

The general idea was charming, anyway. People needed more excuses to celebrate each other when life was so short.

“You always looked so dashing on the ballroom floor!” the way he says it is unabashedly enthusiastic, like he’s talking about a fairytale rather than the person standing next to him. And it’s a rather easy thing to admit, sobered of a holiday or not. “Did it take you a long time to learn, or were you a natural?” He’s extremely tempted to ask about childhood stories, but thinks better of it. Better to let his highness bring those up of his own accord rather than assuming more informality than was really warranted. After all, Dimitri had made the trouble of coming here at all. Ashe was grateful!   

It was not as though they had not seen each other, spoken so casually before this moment. About romance, no less. And Ferdinand’s presence meant the dead walked among them, betwixt and between the living in the same place at the same time.

There seemed to be no war, and yet there was unease within Lorenz.

“Dimitri.”