#gerikandsons

          eventually, he comes to reason that whatever threat lurked here was nascent, and would have struck already if it meant to. wariness doesn’t subside; his spearshaft grip doesn’t loosen, but the slow perusal of a panoramic gaze falls on the small shock of crimson now on the other side of the room to the corridor from which he’d fled. the entrance, still seemingly shut; ephraim’s brow furrows. had he intended to run?

          his footsteps echo eerily on the paneled flooring, metal sheets too pale and smooth — sterile, he realizes is the word for the sensation that’s been grating him. like everything else in this bunker. ❝ julius, isn’t it? ❞ the name gerik had filled in for him the night before. he draws up behind the smaller boy, taking in the vault-like doorway a handful of others are still mulling over. ❝ i doubt it’s going to open again any time soon. ❞

          but the blood in the corridor... and the injuries he’d only just glimpsed. he might be able to understand why someone unaccustomed might run from that.

          a glance around brings his attention to a row of rectangular... pictures, for lack of a better word, mounted on the walls, though they’re much more realistic than any painting he’s ever seen. he recalls that some of the women had been gathered around these earlier, but had they found anything of interest...? ❝ why don’t you come with me to look at the portraits? it’ll do you more good than standing here. ❞ in truth, he has few leads himself, and his own curiosity over a picture gallery, however expertly detailed, is fairly shallow,

          but the boy seems tense, which serves neither himself nor their morale.

They don't even get to stay beside him for long; the world shudders and shifts beneath their feet, and suddenly they're back in that bloodstained bunker and freedom has never tasted so bitter. There isn't any good reason for it, but it doesn't feel the same when they don't stand with Innes where he fell. She had felt him die, and Gerik... he held himself together, but Maria had heard him bellow Innes' name; holding himself together didn't mean he would stay standing when he let his arms down.

She doesn't know when that is or will be. Time passes because it does, and she dries her tears for the others that will inevitably worry for her beneath the weight of their own. Fingers interlaced, hands held to her lips, the pad of one thumb presses hard against the joint of the other in the shadow of her chin. How long she focuses on the pressure, she isn't sure, but she looks up when a shadow rises.

"Oh-- Mister..."

There are no words she can offer him that would mean anything, and so she doesn't; she knows well enough that adults feel worse when children comfort them, anyways. (Too small, they don't know, can't understand, as if she didn't feel the moment Innes' life was snuffed out with her very hands, as if the magic she'd wrapped around him didn't feel the warm pulse of life turn cold and dead) Sometimes, she thinks (hopes), the best way to comfort someone is to unselfishly comfort yourself.

𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐨𝐤𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 trivial matter. Bartre was far too loud to even attempt to sneak around. Raven could easily evade his advances with a couple sidesteps.

          The faculty here, however, were a different breed of... ( annoying would be the word he normally choose to fill in ) weird. He didn’t entirely hate it, but it would take some adjusting. 

          A choked sound of surprise leaves him when a burly arm wraps around his shoulders, only to collapse around his neck in a light and playful chokehold. For someone he had only just met, this man was all too giddy and friendly about his own stunt for Raven's liking. 

Green eyes fell on the mage with a note of approval. Damned kid must have went through a growth spurt or something. Or maybe it was just the pep in his walk. Gerik supposed it didn't matter too much; it wasn't like Tethys was still dressing him or anything. "Not that I would've been there to receive any of them on time, but a few more letters here or there would've been nice."

A wink. He's joking.

"Of course!" Ewan chirped back, full of mirth and surprised to see the mercenary but like not that surprised, either. "Master Saleh thought it'd be a good experience for me... Hasn't been wrong so far!"

Sure, maybe there've been a few perilous scrapes here n there but nothing he hasn't grown stronger or. He beamed, happy to see the man - but his face fell upon the other's teasing admonishment, if briefly. "You... are you sure you didn't get them?" Tilting his head to the side, furrowed brows drew together. He was certain Gerik had been included in his letter sending sprees. But with everything going on here in his day to day academy life...

"Well, maybe I did slack a little on that front," he admitted, finally, wearing no less a grin. Didn't matter though now that the merc was here in person. Ewan bapped him in the stomach - more manly a greeting than a hug, right? Yeah. He thought so. "Still, it's good to see ya, Mr. Boss Man!"

Genuine as ever, Ewan gazed fondly up at the man who had offered so much to his family. Tethys had found herself a good crew; truly.

This timing though...

Or that someone else would be there with him. Brilliant red. Gerik rubbed at his eyes; maybe he should just try to go to bed again if his eyes were playing tricks on him, but the boy didn't disappear even after he blinked.

"... How is it that you always turn up where I least expect it?"

There wasn’t much recognition at first. Julius was accustomed to being spotted by someone else before he spotted them (ordinarily a boon, but lately he had begun to consider a rumor that he had heard from the underground vendors about a new technology that could turn one’s hair different colors), and made an effort not to react right away. He had been searching for a student roster at the instructor’s desk, and adjusted his rummaging to display the confidence of someone who belonged there. All while his mind whittled away at a believable excuse. Footsteps approached and finally Julius lifted his head.

All at once he saw the flash of a terrifying snake beast in his mind’s eye, accompanied by the vague longing for a treasure lost somewhere in his string of relocations since then, and then a night spent in the desert. There was also, underneath the dusty reminiscence, the faint relief that at least this man wouldn’t try to kill him.

One brow quirked up. He thought about feigning ignorance, but this mercenary had shown some semblance of care toward him at one point in time. And here, where half of Jugdral seemed to coalesce, he knew that he needed all the allies he could get.

Chrom doesn't really have any unconventional interests but he does enjoy doodling. It started when he first became interested in the design of the brand on his arm and the tattoos of various soldiers he'd seen training.

"Gerik, how lovely it is to see you again," Eirika greets him with a smile. "You flatter me with your kindness, but it does my heart wonders to see you in good health. Are the other mercenaries well?" She curtsies before answering his next question.

Gerik just didn't think it'd have been in the Knight's Hall, not after seeing the other two in uniform here. That said, this wasn't exactly out of line with what he remembered of Renais' prince either. "I ran into both Prince Innes and Princess Eirika along the way... You, on the other hand, I didn't see on the class lists though. So."

He crossed his arms over his chest, waving vaguely at the hall with his fingers. His own purpose here should be fairly obvious. "What are you up to here, Prince? Watching over your sister, or just taking a short leave from the throne?" A pause of consideration. "Both?"

          he can’t exactly say he’s caught off guard anymore after the number of faces he’s been through since arrival, and realizing the true breadth of the diversity that these foreign halls have drawn. he’d thought initially that there wouldn’t be many here from other places, that eirika had gotten one of her sudden ideas and signed herself somewhere alien and restricted overseas, that she was the only one entertaining the thought. but it looked like there were almost as many here from other lands as there were native to fodlan shores. and every hour, it seems, he’s crossing paths with someone unexpected.

          ❝ oh, gerik. ❞

          the man looks just like how he remembers him — that relaxed manner, dark from the sun, a dusty green. still carrying a whiff of jehannan sands, even all the way out here. he’s not too keen on explaining why he’d opted not to join eirika on the stuffy classroom benches, but he wonders if gerik had questioned the others like this too. ❝ i have trusted people overseeing things back home, ❞ he answers plainly, ❝ i just want to make sure eirika will be all right.

          but i’m surprised to see you here; i’m guessing the rest of your men are as well? i didn’t realize you’d gotten so well-known. ❞

          from what he’d understood, fodlan had invited exchange students and faculty; he’d applied to fight with the knights as something of an alternative, but found that wasn’t uncommon either; and now the church of seiros hires foreign mercenaries too. is that just what things are like around here? it’s something of a reassurance, though maybe that’s just because it’s the commendable desert tiger.