#futurepastlord

But she also remembers the shift in expression, in eyes, in the twist of her smile. Flickers of Grima peak out from behind the gaze that catches her. Lucina feels her throat snare in her throat and tears burn angry in her eyes. She can't cry, she can't show this beast weakness. How terrifying to see it once again, in the place where Lucina had begun to finally feel safe. She bites the inside of her lip to keep it from trembling before she speaks.

"Why are you here?" she asks coldly, her voice low, hand itching to grab her blade. She'd made the mistake of not running Falchion through the woman's gut once before, and she'd be remiss not to try again. But she stays her hand for now, perhaps deciding that a surprise attack would work so much better than this.

For a moment Grima doesn't answer her. She shifts her tome in her arms and gives Lucina a look of confusion. There's a lack of understanding on her face as she looks over at Lucina.

"I'm studying to become a wyvern rider as of right now. Lucina, are you feeling alright?"

Provoking Lucina was enjoyable when at their full power but Grima wasn't a fool. Falchion even in the hands of the smallest worm wasn't something to be toyed with. Grima had tasted its steel more than they would care to admit.

Gerome expects to see Cynthia when he opens the door — who else would knock so insistently? — but it's Lucina instead who shoves past him and into the room. She doesn't speak but her expression tells him that something serious is on her mind. Something has happened. He cannot fathom what, but he waits for her to speak.

Grima.

His eyes widen beneath his mask and his mouth falls open.

Grima!?

Here!?

Once, long ago, in a future lost, they had had to abandon their world to come here. To past that could still be saved. The cost was high, the people they swore to protect left to be trampled by Grima's cultists and risen. They had all given up so much to avert that future and now its progenitor is here, walking these halls with the mask of a woman who had fought against their tyranny.

I'm sorry to have to give this to you through a third party, but I couldn't wait until morning to give it to you myself. I regret it, I really do.

However, I've been called back home for a time. Remember when I told you I was helping the people up north back home with some political business? Well, I've been asked to go help some more. The last time, it was for two years, but I very much doubt it should take that long this time since the foundations I was helping with after the war are still in place. This is more like upkeep.

Unfortunately, I can't say for sure when I'll be back, but I wanted to be the one to tell you instead of it coming from my father. If needed, you can give him anything you need sent to me, and he will ensure I get it. (I will make sure he knows to send it to me. He can be a bit protective.)

Our last time seeing each other will not be the last time we see each other. I will keep you apprised of the situation, including when I should be returning.

Yours faithfully, Lucina

When the letter arrives by courier, Ephraim expects it to be from Renais. He receives enough of them that he doesn't think twice about it and adds it to his ever growing pile.

After reviewing a handful of reports sent from Renais and writing a letter home concerning granaries and plans for structures to be built. It's odd ruling Renais from afar, he would much rather be in his homeland, to see its rolling green hills and sunsets. One day, he'll return, and a much better king for it.

With a long exhale, Ephraim leans back in his chair. It would be nice to get out, perhaps he can find Lucina and convince her into a training session. But first...his eyes fall onto the letter from earlier.

Ephraim picks up the letter and opens it carefully, unfolding the paper and scanning it quietly.

Well, there goes any training sessions.

Lucina doesn't mention where she will be traveling to and it makes him realize that she's never named her country. Even at the tournament he doesn't remember her speaking its name. And here she speaks of her father but...is he at the academy? She hadn't mentioned.

Ephraim stands with the letter and begins to pace as he reads over it again.

If there were something he could do, it's beyond his reach now. Still, he can't help but wonder if Renais could have supported her efforts somehow. Part of his coming here was to build relations for Renais.

●●●○○ | ATTRACTION ●●●●○ | AFFECTION ●●●●● | INTEREST ●●●○○ | LOYALTY ●●●○○ | TRUST

Well, what she got him was practical but also decorative. Hopefully it's an alright gift, if he would wear it or set it aside as something of frivolity. Oh, curse her anxiety over gifts! At least she knows what her friends like. This is entirely new territory.

But it's too late now. He's in front of her and she can't keep from smiling up at him as she hands him the box. Inside, tucked neatly atop a simple, deep blue but of velvet, is a golden brooch: A circle with a sun carved delicately, intricately, into the gold. Small white stones are inlaid at the center and points of the sun, accentuating the curves of the carvings. "Happy birthday," she says, clasoing her hands carefully behind her back as he takes the box from her.

Ephraim is far past the age of expecting gifts on his birthday. As a child he'd received clothing, accessories, or weapons, or once Father MacGregor had given him a book. Those close to him knew him better, that he'd prefer time spent together over anything material. Besides, it was hard to find a gift for a prince.

He doesn't know when he mentioned his birthday to Lucina (perhaps when speaking of his sister?) but he doesn't expect her to appear before him with a box and a simple blessing for his birthday.

"Thank you," he replies as he accepts the box. Azure eyes study the nervous edge to her demeanor and the soft smile she graces him with before he opens it.

"...This is..." He touches a finger to the golden brooch emblazoned in the sun's image. It was hard to know what to expect but it hadn't been this. "I... Thank you. My solar brace, it's to match it?" He always wears it, a small connection to his twin and a memento of his father. Ephraim lifts the brooch to his cloak and manages to fix it upon the fabric.

[ LAST DANCE ] - The orchestra has retreated inside, and in the mansion's own personal ballroom, they start the music anew. The up-and-coming bard, going solely by the stage name Julian, refuses to be outdone by his rival Delancey's earlier performance, and so sings dulcet tones intended to keep the party going and couples in the mood.

Well, getting washed out of the main ball venue hadn't been expected, but after getting dry and spending some time milling about the Viscount's mansion, she finally finds Ephraim again. It seems his clothes are still damp, but much less so than before, which is a good sign; she wouldn't want him catching a cold because of this.

"Ephraim," she says to get his attention as she reaches him, curling her fingers lightly around part of his cape to tug him to a stop. She recalls seeing him on the dance floor with Nel earlier, how pleased they both looked together. Perhaps the extent of their enjoyment is part of her imagination, but she cannot help the bit of a pull in her chest she felt at seeing them. It's likely innocuous, and she feels ashamed of whatever feeling this is, yet she cannot help but to feel it anyway.

"I'm sorry I lost track of you. It was rather chaotic, that storm sweeping in, wasn't it?" She moves to stand at his side, though her fingers don't fall from where she still grips part of his cape. What is this? She is a princess, would-be exalt, carrying the bloodline of the Hero-King Marth in her veins. And yet...she wants to cling to someone for reasons unknown because she saw him dancing with another?

After a long moment of silence, her gaze is caught by color outside the window. Bright lights explode in the sky amidst the rain, the dark clouds a backdrop to make the bursts pop spectacularly. She lets out a soft, "Oh," in wonder at the sight. "Ephraim, look. It's beautiful."

Ephraim turns at the faint tug on his cape and finds Lucina. He should be prepared to see her, but like before he goes silent and his breath stills for a long moment. He watches her move beside him, hand still in his cape as she turns her gaze toward the window of the mansion.

Fireworks bloom in the night sky, fighting against the torrential weather, but Ephraim only notices the way the colors light up Lucina's features. Her radiance rivals the colorful array of lights that adorn the sky.

"It is," he admits. A dulcet tone drifts from the main ballroom behind them. Ephraim reaches for her hand, de-tangling it from his cape and intertwining their hands.

"You picked out the perfect dress. Your boyfriend is a lucky man." Hesitantly, if only because she's not sure how to show affection yet, she takes Serra's hand and leans in to offer her a hug. "Thank you again for your help."

“Lucina!” Where Lucina hesitates, Serra throws her arms around her new friend, squeezing the life out of her. “You look gorgeous! Ohh, I knew you would!”

A confident grin overcomes her features as she pulls away. “I know he is. And so is yours! Well... that’s what he’s going to become tonight, anyway! There’s no way he won’t confess to you after seeing you looking like this!”

She nods, sure as fire. (Surefire. That’s what she’s getting at.)

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●●●○○ | ATTRACTION ●●●○○ | AFFECTION ●●●○○ | INTEREST ●●○○○ | LOYALTY ●●○○○ | TRUST