#foreversnightmare

Nils had been sitting on the slightly too large chair, swinging his legs back and forth. (Remember, no matter who you meet, give them a smile. You got an easy topic! You can do this!)

This was going to be Nils’ attempt at connecting more with other people. While he’s friendly enough to classmates, he’s still mostly kept to himself besides the people he already knew. “Hello! It’s nice to.. meet you.” Although he smiled, for a moment he stopped mid sentence when he felt an unpleasant chill run down his spine.

It seems like God still hates Nils, because the first person put in front of him was a frankly terrifying woman that not only towered over him but also exuded a deep malevolence. If the horns were not enough of a cue, that alone told Nils that this woman was not human. However, he noted, she did she carry the essence typical of dragons either.

“Er. Um…” He stumbled over his words, his nerves causing his throat to feel like it tightened up. He ended up taking a deep breath before attempting to speak again. “I’m.. actually a bard, you see?” He started with a forced smile. “So most of my free time is dedicated to maintaining my flute or practicing a new song.”

Okay, he wasn’t dead yet, that’s a good thing right? If it wasn’t the woman herself he felt like his heart might give out. He spent his entire life listening to his 6th sense, using it to protect Ninian and himself from danger. Ignoring it like this, and purposefully engaging with the danger his power actively tries to protect him from certainly is.. stressful.

Seminars are encouraged at the monastery. They help others learn from their peers while strengthening friendship at the same time. Well… most seminars. This seminar, on the other hand, is on… the basis of keeping one’s composure? That’s what the paper says, after all. “Learn how to withstand interrogations that may test your emotional and physical strength.” What wasn’t included in the description was that the instructor would attack you the moment you arrived at the meeting place! By their words, they’ll chase you and your partner through a booby-trapped forest to raise the tension, but if you’re caught… Well, they only smile at you and count down. [Grants Sword +1]

“It enhances the atmosphere” was the only explanation of why this seminar was being held in an abandoned shack in the middle of the woods, but Yune wasn’t complaining. While it would be faster to fly, the walk gave her the chance to appreciate the beauty of nature, the grass beneath her feet, the beams of the setting sun through the trees, the… random pieces of rope on the ground?

“Hello?” She called, as she entered the wooden hut. Inside, no one, and very little besides a couple of rotting chairs, some crates, and a selection of weaponry. Yune picked up a dagger, and admired it. It was nothing special, but the metallic glint reminded her of Micaiah’s shadow. 

Her musings were interrupted by another person’s arrival, a silver-haired lady with… horns? How curious. The other strange thing was her aura, which Yune didn’t understand yet. Yune smiled at her. “Hello, are you the instructor? I’m Yune, nice to-”

Her greeting was cut short when an arrow hit the wall beside her, narrowly missing them both. 

She quickly ducked behind a crate, and heard a call from outside. “Don’t think I’ll go easy on you cause you’re a child. Your first challenge is to get out of that shack, my next arrow won’t miss.”

Yune’s eyes found the horned lady’s. “Nice to meet you.” She finished her thought. “Any ideas?”

"Ah, my first pet name! I knew you'd come around, my love!"

Unphased by and perhaps enjoying her verbal abuse, Sain watches with hearts in his eyes as Freyja wolfs down his drink. It's the sweet kind: with honey and fruit juice and a spoonful of sugar--more true to his preference than a measly mug of ale. The reality of his bar-hopping adventures is that he only drinks things considered 'hard' and 'manly' as a means of showing off. In private, this is where his true colors shine.

And while he was, for a fraction of a second, scared that the queen's 'sampling' would out him, her satisfaction draws a curtain of relief over his eyelids.

"If you desire another, it would delight me to no end to provide you with more!" Fishing through his pocket, Sain produces the last of his tavern-going money. It's a paltry sum, but make no mistake: he would spend more if he could. Reuniting with Kent and Lyn has put him on a tighter budget, lest he receive earful after earful about being frivolous.

Deirdre does not think twice when she notices another woman glancing in the direction of her husband. It is not the first time and it certainly will not be the last. He is a handsome man! Often she catches her own eyes drifting toward him--how could she fault someone else for doing the same!

But the woman approaches Deirdre and, with an arm about her waist, pulls her close. Startled, Deirdre does not immediately back away until after her lips are kissed.

Ephidel knew what they were on this ship. Despite every native being at odds with one another, the morph knew they could all stand under a banner against them.

But it was not the ostracizing that kept them away, that kept them alert, that kept them staring out over the horizon without rest. They had bigger concerns than the vermin that may band together against them.

The morph felt her approach far before she spoke, but there was no hostility in her aura.

They are silent for a moment, considering how to articular their answer.

"I do not know how long it has been since I've been upon Elibe, and what these rumors might mean for it. ... if it might signals my God's return."

Ephidel regards her, and for once appreciates the quiet company.

"Would he have me back...?"

They longed for purpose. For meaning. For love.

"F-Finest Freyja...!"

Their lips connect, and worlds collide. At first Sain is taken aback--that his charms worked, that he wasn't being literally or metaphorically skewered--but he soon realizes what this means. And so, with solemn understanding, he closes his eyes and leans in. Freyja will be spared not a drop of his passion. Sain's hands slide up her back to say he needs her, knead into shoulders to say he treasures her. That she would even look his way sends sparks of hope into his heart. When they burst into flames, he is bound to her will.

But all good things must come to an end.

Time steals away even this small joy from Sain. He isn't counting the seconds, the minutes. But were he to retell this story (and make no mistake: he will) he'd describe it as the moments between moments; the thousands of eternities split into just a fracture of time. Freyja starts to wane. So does he, for it is only knightly to do so. She is a lady, and he is a protector... To demand anything more from her would betray the noble ideals he serves.

His hands, lips, hope and heart all return to courageous Sain. And for it all, a goofy smile rests upon his face.

"...I understand. Know that I shall never forget you. These precious moments you spared for me... Shall be kept dear as long as I live."

Professor Kent had made sense when he explained the importance of keeping records and grading her students. It does seem as though it would be necessary for them to understand their own growth and progress. But it is difficult! She sees strengths in each of them, even those that do not always show up for class. It pains her to attempt to assign them each a letter to show where they are at. That would mean putting some ahead of others and she loves them all equally. (Well, perhaps not all. Her darling Seliph is in her class after all!)

Deirdre sighs loudly as she stares at the grading charts in front of her. She has opted to use the staff room for her grading instead of her office today. It is nice to have her own space where she might be easily found if one of her students needed her but it can get awfully lonely. The room is small and dark even when the sun is at its highest and there is only so much filling the space with freshly cut flowers can do to liven things up. At least here there is the chance that another staff member might stop in to tend to their own business.

"This is a nightmare!"