#freedomarrow

Alcryst gets cold very easily. In Givre Port he also mentioned that his hands are always cold:

It’s freezing here. Numb hands make for poor bowmanship…and my hands are always cold.

At the very least he tries to wear a jacket. In winter he bundles right up and wears enough layers to stay nice and toasty. Alcryst is drawn to heat sources like a cat and stays by the fireplace when he’s cold. Also wears fingerless gloves to combat the cold hands.

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.

"Edward."

He does not have to explain, and he knows that. Without saying anything more at first, he pulls him into a hug. Just for a moment - just to enjoy the feeling of his breath and heartbeat for a little longer.

"I'm sure you know what I'm going to say here," he sighs, pulling away to look him in the eyes, doing his best to smile in spite of everything. "Be careful, don't die, come back safe. All that. Alright?"

From his satchel, he produces a small, neatly wrapped package and hands it to Edward. A medicinal kit, small but handy, in the perfect size for one of the other's spare pockets.

"I'm sure you'll have healers on board, but this is for emergencies. This salve here helps stop bleeding almost on the spot. Doesn't even sting too much when you apply it, it's great. I stocked up a while ago. And some bandages, of course. I hope you won't need it... but you know how those situations usually go."

He clasps Edward's hands in his own one last time, giving him a decisive nod.

"Good luck out there. I'll... of course try to stay safe myself, too."

"Leonar—?"

He's cut off — There's just too many syllables in the other's name for him not to be, and this is a preferable greeting, anyways. Edward huffs out a little chuckle into Leonardo's shoulder, and presses his own face further into it, arms crawling up to pull him closer — There, under his skin, the thrum of his pulse, the rise and fall of each draw of breath. Proof of life, so much warmer and so much more real than that nebulous dream months ago. Long enough that details almost elude him; But he still has a bloodstained shirt and a broken good-luck charm back in his room to say otherwise.

He holds reality close a moment longer, before letting Leonardo go. "Yeah, yeah," he says, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "Right back at you, by the way — What's this?"

He takes the little parcel, pries a bit of it open to peek as his friend explains. "Ohhh! Yeah, this looks real handy." He slips it into his pocket to judge its size, finds with glee that it really is a cute little thing, twisting a little to demonstrate. "Look! Perfect fit!"

And — Ah, palm to palm, holding fast with a bit too much finality for his tastes. That won't do. While not eager to let go again, he's still got something to...

"Wait," he's rifling in another pocket now, "Hold on... Did I bring it... There!"

He pulls out a little drawstring bag by the string with extra gusto, catches it deftly when it pops out, pressing it into Leonardo's hands with both of his own, holding them fast like seconds ago. "For you! Trail mix, like how we did it back home! I still had some dried berries and apple chips... No fruit on the sea, after all." His grin turns a little impish. "Can't have all your teeth falling out like a real pirate, heh!"

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 quiet voice is heard behind the larger man's back, and sure enough, if Hector turns around, he will see Leonardo standing there with his arms wrapped around his chest. He flashes the other a smile, but it is soon replaced with the wince from a moment ago.

He gestures with his head to the scene off to Hector's left - the insect orchestra, tuning their instruments before the next piece - before sighing.

"It's kind of pathetic, isn't it. I've fought tiger shapeshifters almost ten times my size, but I draw the line at bugs that mean me no harm..."

He shakes his head, before turning his attention back to Hector, making an attempt at a smile again. "How has your evening been, anyway? I hope you've been well... even if it is a little exhausting." He pauses, looking down - at the Earth-shaped mark on both their hands - before extending his towards Hector.

"... Care for an exchange?"

Hector jumps near out of his skin. He breathes an audible sigh of relief upon turning to find a familiar - and non hostile - face.

"Oh, Leo, it's you-- you near scared the daylights outta me!"

He, too, winces, clearly on edge. However, upon closer inspection, Hector wonders if Leonardo mightn't be as well.

He opens his mouth to ask, but Leonardo takes the lead.

"… Ah."

Well, it is kind of pathetic in a way, sure. But one doesn't always choose their fears, right?

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Hector starts with a grin that bodes ill for his friend despite firmly good intentions.

"The evening's been treating me well enough, thanks. Though, exhausting sounds apt..." He claps Leonardo's hand in a shake. It's the least he can do... or is it? "Hm! Hey, I've got an idea."

Of note: he's yet to relinquish Leonardo's proffered hand.

"Let's go see these creepy crawlies of yours up close! It's safe down here, nothin' can go wrong! We'll get rid of that fear of yours in no time flat."

His first thought is to put it back in the proper place, but just then, a familiar head of brown pops up within his line of sight, replacing the aforementioned first thought with another one - one of mischief that he really only experiences in his company.

And so, without considering the situation further -

"Oi. Catch!"

- he throws it, aimed squarely at his best friend's face.

"Eh?"

A familiar voice has his head turning in its direction, eyes already alight hearing a voice he'd know in his sleep — But while the voice registers (that's Leonardo, duh) the words take a second longer to process, and then there's already a big, supremely fluffy something flying towards him at impressive velocity, intent on beaning him, with perfect accuracy,

"Wah?!"

Right in the face. (Ding! Bullseye!)

There's a comical squawk, his arms flailing, moving only just in time to keep the object from tumbling to the floor entirely; And, oh! That's a cute plushie. A plushie that was just thrown squarely at his face. Grey eyes turn back to his friend, now sparkling in turn with an affectionate kind of malice-mischief, usually reserved for arm wrestling or spars — Completely unnecessary if he'd just caught the dang thing, but that's not the point! It's time for payback.

Also, Leonardo was definitely aiming for his face. A teensy smothering attempt is fair play. Brandishing the unicorn, Edward begins to close the distance with a cheeky grin.

He wonders what he could take that would be both filling and to his taste; eventually, the blond's eyes land on the last sweet bun currently available at the stand, and he reaches for it -

only for another hand to pop up within his line of sight, prompting him to quickly back off.

His eyes dart up, meeting a pair of bright, sharp rubies of a man he vaguely recalls from the vicinity of the Black Eagles classrooms. A quiet, short gasp escapes him, before he nods in greeting and takes a step back.

"Ah. Apologies, Professor. Please take it if you want... I'll find something else."

Glucose- sugar- was the primordial fuel of all bodies no matter whether they were human or dragon. Only the Corrupted raised from crypts and gravestones had no need for such things. If only for that fact alone, Rafal could not fault any living soul which pursued the same articles of fine dining as he did, including the youth who crossed not only his path but also nearly his hand in a mutual aim for the sole remaining custard-filled sweetbun.

"Hold."

The dragon's imposing voice radiated authority, a moment of pause incited for his inspection to fall over the other. Some innermost part was pleased by the calling of professor but even more at the all too quick surrender. Surely, it was only natural for the weak to shrink back when faced with a potential onslaught of the strong. That sense of preservation found itself threaded even into the attitudes of the fell dragons who used power to dispose among themselves the living and the dying. Rafal, however, stood at the top; considered strong among both living and dead; and such a creature bore meaningful counsel in mind.

"You are not my student, else I would have noted someone so weak as to cede the rights to a last bite so easily. For our differing houses you are beyond my reprimand. However, heed my word of advice."

A cluck of his tongue struck sharply, succeeded by his crossed arms.

"If you should ever find yourself at a crossroads, trapped between your desires and that of another's, it is your own that should come first. Even if you must tear off the head and hand of your enemy to see them to fruition." Where had the blistering intensity of an 'enemy' suddenly been derived from? Though it was a solid question to deliberate, the self-satisfied professor provided no further elaboration beyond a nod. A fire-marked palm raised more hesitantly though proud nevertheless, evoking the popular human custom of a handshake.

"..."

Not that Leonardo is a stranger to seeing people punching each other, but that was certainly an interesting scene to behold.

Hm.

The blond gives it a moment, debating with himself on whether or not he should say or do anything at all, but eventually deciding it may be good to check on her.

"... I don't know what that was about and I'm not going to ask, but are you okay?" He inquires, his voice quiet, as though trying not to bother her in spite of speaking to her. "I can get you some ice or something for that?..." She may or may not know or guess that there is already a hint of blue forming on the side of her jaw.

The worst thing isn't the bruise, but the curious eyes of others that follow her as she retreats. At least there's the comfort of knowing that this'll have been far from the strangest thing anyone will see tonight.

And it is no small relief to recognize the voice that calls her attention, soft as it approaches.

"It's a... complicated story, yes," Lucina shakes her head. There's no easy way to explain all that had happened, and she's not sure it's something worth recounting after all that has come to be since. "But I'm fine, don't worry."