#freedomarrow

He does not recall seeing him on the ship - not to mention, is Professor Lukas not from Valentia? Was he not supposed to travel there? Or is Leonardo somehow that inattentive?

"Were you on our ship with us? Did I somehow miss your presence?" He is trying to remain calm and collected, but the confusion is clear as day on his features.

"Of course... I am glad that you're here, your prowess and experience will be a great asset to us. Speaking of which... you're unharmed, I hope?" He should probably ask about that. "We had quite a crash."

"Leonardo?" At last is a familiar face, though not one of the few bound for Valentia. Still, Lukas smiles wide as Leonardo makes himself known. "Peace, my friend. I was on the ship headed towards Valentia, my homeland. Our ship was caught up in a terrible storm... I'm not without my share of wounds, but after all that happened, I'm just grateful to still be drawing breath."

The others, though... there's not much Lukas can do right now except pray they are still alive. Alm and Celica were on that ship... whatever gods are left, please protect them.

7. a memory they want to forget

Humans would be humans wherever Rafal went. Loud. Delusional. Over-friendly. Over-sharing. Every period of his independent travel peeled back another layer to the sweet-sour rind that was humanity. Always killing and bickering amongst themselves, always loving and multiplying in the same continuous way. Rafal witnessed their flaws and virtues alike and he was thankful to return to Lythos at the terminus of every year where his siblings waited. Dragons, not humans.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes."

"A shame. You helped to defend our village. That means you've earned a place in it."

He stiffened at the remark, the buildup ever familiar- you helped us, how kind you are, how heroic, you're not as scary as you look. No matter how many times he explained that his helpful actions were whim or coincidence they never learned. He adjusted the rest of his knapsack across his shoulder and prepared to leave.

"I am thankful for your shelter, but know that I have no place here. I am not human." That was beyond important, it was fact, and where another Fell Dragon might have hesitated to say it- to unveil their ugly natures and risk persecution- Rafal said so with clarity, expectation even; acceptance of the causality before it even occurred. But—

His host reacted as if those words weren't worth a blink. "I knew that." He followed Rafal out, leaning against the door. Haloed in light with such harsh contrast against the darkness that it enveloped his face in shadow. Rafal was glad for that. He was never one for goodbyes, for meeting eyes when he said them. Especially with the short-lived humans who he knew would never be seen again in his lifetime.

"I knew that. And you're still welcome here."

Rafal looked at him strangely then like something had clicked. The perpetual kindness he wielded for a stranger, the mysterious brush of their hands on the passing of every plate at supper, the sideways-leaning posture against the door bordering on playful- all of these cues and signs that he'd labeled as mere kindness now whispered of deeper meaning. Rafal, however, would be Rafal; as timeless and eternal as the humans themselves, and humans were so—

The Ethereal Ball is nigh! The planning committee is hard at work preparing for the second biggest event of the year and asks for volunteers to help make it happen! There’s plenty that needs to be done, from picking out the menu to securing the supplies you need for the dance cards.

Fixing platters, tying ties, arranging venues--there are so many tasks to sign up for. Idunn is excited for the ball. Though one can’t surmise this from her lackadaisical stare or mouth drawn permanently into a line, she wants to join in on the fun. It will be a night filled with flowers and people and smiling faces, she had heard. And it sounds like the kind of thing Fae would enjoy. But the process of lending her assistance to its preparations presents an impossible challenge: overchoice.

Too many jobs are out of reach. While it would fit her to go out picking flowers to use as decorations, such an activity is already part of her daily routine. The point of this all is to branch out, growing in as many ways as she can. A tree that only sprouts up is no different from a stick: it needs buds and leaves, fingers and a wider reach into the sky. She knows she will enjoy whatever she ends up doing, it’s just a matter of picking something out.

She frowns at the list of jobs. A finger presses into her cheek as she struggles to read them all. Some words she has to squint at, and others are foreign to her even if she looks closely. It’s an ordeal, to say the least--a strong gust of wind that might very well uproot her and knock her over. But she remembers, as her head dips low and small hands begin to tremble, that she doesn’t need to weather every storm alone.

Breaking her depressive trance, she lifts her gaze and scans the room. Surely someone would be able to help, someone she’s met before and trusts...

There it is. That head of glistering gold. Those eyes like a hawk. She could pick him out from a crowd of ten-thousand if she had to, for the bond they share tangles them together:

“Leonardo.”

Wasting not a second of her time, Idunn’s feet shuffle over to the archer. She doesn’t wear her usual look of despondency; not with him. Leonardo’s presence is one that lifts her eyelids and threatens to turn the corner of her mouth. Knowing he has a family that he loves, friends that he values--that she is somewhere in the middle--casts light onto her lonely heart. She fiddles with a thread on her sleeve before speaking, but really, she’s glad to see him.

“You are also here, for the ball.” That much is obvious. It’s what everyone has decided to pack themselves into this room like produce for. “Can we... Help out, together? I don’t know what to do,” she softly admits that fact, and whatever happiness she expressed moments prior fades away. Asking for help so that she might help twists a jagged axe into her side. It strikes her with a kind of worthless feeling, that doing something for others falls outside her parameters.

“But I’m sure that with you... I can do something good.” 

When she would play saints & elites with her brothers, and then later with the ever competitive heirs to houses Gautier, Fraldalius, and Blaiddyd there was always a tussle over who would be Seiros.

She remembers her oldest brother swinging around a shield, proudly declaring that Ingrid would just have to take on the role of Ceathleann if she was unable to unarm him. The real Seiros could disarm a soldier with naught but her gaze. The real Seiros shone as bright and pure as her gold hair was said to be, and no one cared that she was a warrior but not a man for she was more than that, she was divine.

Garbed in white armor, holding a spell book in one hand and a staff in another Ingrid remembers those days, on how enraptured she had felt the one time she had managed to slip away to see the Opera troupe from Enbarr and heard Seiros speak for the first time, remembers how she had copied the actress’s stance and stage swordplay for weeks on end afterward until her instructor had told her how terribly unrealistic, and unbecoming it all was in reality.

Reality or not, Ingrid finds herself facing the Nue once more and there in the center of battle - the center of the stage - she feels right at home, as if the Goddess herself has placed her here.

“Again, we meet,” Ingrid calls up to the chimera: “have you stopped running? Know by now you cannot win this chase.”

Ingrid peers around her at the comrades she’s come to trust - Leonardo, Kent, Hector, and Sakura, and finds herself grinning. Again and again, they have knit themselves back together - compared to that the Nue’s miracle seems nothing but a parlor trick.

It stares blankly back at her, but Ingrid does not flinch; flips through the unknown spellbook until she feels the Faith strum through her fingers and then flings it the Nue’s way.

Ingrid attacks Nue with Luce. 1d4 roll: 3. Illusion does not proc!

For a moment the Nue shimmers like a heat mirage but then the spell hits with a blast of divine light and pinned there in the air Ingrid feels the magic strike true.

1d20: 8. Hit! (-2HP) Nue’s HP: 48/50. 1d4 roll: 3. Nue reflects all physical damage! Ingrid remains unaffected.

“Now is our chance!” Ingrid calls, excitedly, breaking character for the moment to shout to the others and in that moment the Nue howls: nearly causing Ingrid to drop her book, though she stays upright by leaning on her staff.

Nue counters with Omen. 1d20 roll: 14. Hit! (-2.5HP) Ingrid’s HP: 7.5/10.  Ingrid is inflicted with Void! 

Playing center stage certainly seemed to have its draw backs as well, but nothing she couldn’t handle. “I’m alright,” Ingrid assures, “just, ah, unused to this new toolkit. But, please, let us not falter! Surely this is the last stand!”

The children of this town take up jobs in the quarry to earn some pocket change. It’s dangerous work, but as you enter the bounds of the quarry, it’s just another day on the job. Some of you are perceived as “younger” children and are tasked with chipping away stone and sweeping up chalkos. Others are perceived as “older” children and get more responsibilities for their trouble, supervising the young ones and detonating explosives to make way for them. 2d3 Stone, 1d4 Chalkos, 1 Obol for every post. @blaydiud & @freedomarrow

On a scale from one to what in Naga’s holy name, Lucina would likely rate the scene before her a solid seven.

She is already mid-swing of a pickaxe she has never seen before now, startled by the way the way her strike reverberates up her arms as it connects -- as though she had not known she was doing so until, well, it happened. 

Huh.

Stone from the wall chips away, clattering to the floor. She stares down at it a moment before a familiar commanding voice shouts her name from somewhere a bit further down and she resigns herself to hefting the tool upwards again. 

Her pickaxe strikes again and she allows herself a glance around. To her left are two familiar blonde faces, both with their own assigned tasks. Eyes zero in on the thing in the nearest one’s hand.

[Garden]

"Watch out, sir!"

Leonardo's alarmed voice comes moments before an unnatural noise behind Cadros' back, something between a loud hum of leaves and a stifled groan, before the vine that sought to grab him from behind withdraws, together with the rest of the plant.

"That was close... Are you unharmed?" He asks as he comes closer, though maintaining a bit of a distance out of respect. "These plants are carnivorous, and I think the Elementals did not feed them enough..."

He sighs, shaking his head to refresh his thoughts, before finally a small smile comes up on his lips. "I'm Leonardo. It's nice to meet you, sir. Are you one of the newly appointed faculty, perhaps?"

Cadros startles slightly as he darted out of the way of a plant, a plant that he would have assumed was completely harmless, had it not been for the shout of warning a few moments before it may have been too late.

"Ah! Thank you for the warning, young sir! That could have been quite... disasterous indeed!" He smiles, always the picture perfect image of prestige, even after barely escaping dangerous situations with his life hardly intact. A very regal king indeed, always happy and joyful, even if he had very nearly just died.

Task: Your (their) child fawns over all things cute and fluffy and is absolutely obsessed with rabbits. A live one may be a better gift than one that’s stuffed... Just as the thought occurs to you, you might just suddenly recall a field near the quarry that’s always teeming with rabbits. Figuring out their favorite foods should be enough for you to catch one. Sometimes it pays to be in the dream world! 2d2 Herbs per post.

There was a growing sense of unease as one week rolled into another. Days had gone by in this strange push-pull of knowing or remembering what they had to do, and then getting distracted or otherwise caught up in the tangle of dreams. There was more tension with the growing number of soldiers coming and going, the aliens becoming louder in their differing views as well.

The child that seems to come and go in the house, details murky in Lloyd’s mind beyond that they are related to the instrument maker that shares their workshop, speaks often of the rabbits that live near the quarry. It seems a perfect excuse to get away from the bulk of the city and try to clear his head. More eyes and hands for the endeavor was good, so Elincia and Leonardo join along to the grassy fields that lay beyond the sound of explosions and metal picks against rock. He’d not dealt with Leonardo very closely until now, but surely the skills of an archer brushed up alongside those of a trapper somewhat.

If it were merely hunting, it would be no question, but they were not here for something so simple.

“Have either of you trapped rabbits before?” Lloyd asked over his shoulder, kneeling down briefly to glance over the grassy terrain. Short, brittle grass was closer towards the quarry and its cliffs, but it became softer and more vibrantly green the further into the field it went. There were subtle tracks in the dirt here, small groupings of droppings on little animal paths in the grass. It seemed they had very little to fear here.

It’s your turn on cooking duty, and you know exactly what you want to make: delicious pizzas! The kitchens are well stocked today; *too* well-stocked, in fact, because there are way too many choices for toppings, with everything you can imagine from meat to veggies to more unorthodox choices like chocolate or mapo tofu. Will you and your cooking partner come up with a brilliant new recipe, or spend the entire time arguing over whether or not that pineapple belongs on the pizza? [Grants Authority +1]

@freedomarrow

Micaiah had tempered her expectations upon first coming to the Officer’s Academy, knowing only that she was here so that she might serve Daein as a better queen; since then, she had certainly learned much but perhaps the biggest surprise was her newfound knowledge of culinary arts.

She would not say she was good at any of it, exactly, but prior to coming to Fodlan she had never even imagined the breadth and variety of dishes a single nation could have. Garreg Mach brought all three of their nations’ delicacies together, even including some from far off trading posts near Dagda and Morfis.

It was fascinating and had Micaiah thinking about food in an entirely different way.

Still while undoubtedly excited to be put on cooking duty, looking at all the toppings before her had her a bit overwhelmed. Well - at least she knew what pizza was from past experiences, and she could start on making the bread base until her help got here.

Humming a bit, Micaiah started in on the dough; content to be doing something with her hands she was not sure how much time had passed when she first heard the kitchen door open but when she saw who was on duty with her a large smile came to her face unbidden.

“Leonardo! I thought you were here.”

Placing the dough down, Micaiah rushes over - apron and all - to greet her friend. She’s relieved to see he looks well as it’s only been a week or so since the projectionist fiasco and Goddess knows what may have happened to him during that time. They had so much to catch up on!

“Please forgive me for not coming to see you earlier. Pelleas mentioned you were in the Blue Lions, I believe? Oh - I’m, it’s just so good to see you.”

She raises her floury hands and then pauses. If this were Edward or even Nolan she wouldn’t think twice about going in for a hug or a pat on the back, and if he’d been Sothe he’d doubtless already have flour all over his face already but Leonardo, just as dear to her as the rest, had always been a bit more reserved.