#godlessarrow

— for @godlessarrow

Archer's paradox was very much synonymous with the way people careened through life. As anyone would know, an arrow poised gracefully on a bow-riser points astray-- off its mark-- but somehow manages to curve into a bullseye once it flies off. Turns out "straight as an arrow" was never as straight as they’d say, since an arrow had to bend like a silvered fish in a wave to get to where it wanted to be. And Lukas, keen on crossing library duty off his long repertoire, found himself rippling through the stream of people like an arrow off its mark. Again with the books, boy. Won't you know when to quit?

He sifted in and out, crossing between pillars to claw his way to "DYNAMITE DIDACTIC", "Frog Caught Your Tongue","HOW TO HANDLE FAKE SPIDERS", "Poetry for the Soft of Heart," and the lot.  His students were certainly the..... erm... rambunctious lot, weren't they? If they were any more colorful, Lukas swore he'd be splattered enough to make a dragon's scale green with envy. Sigh. No rest for the weary, he supposed.  

Heh. But that's what made this place all the more endearing. For every wink of sleep he lost, he swore he ended up with some radical tale of heroes in the making.  Some exasperating prank, a kiss on the cheek, or a round of ale for a god Lukas didn't even care to believe in. They were very much companions, looking to make their way through this sick paradox of a world, after all.

As his fingers ghosted the spines of these war-worn books, he found them skidding off lithe leather (and warmth that couldn't possibly be coming from anything less than human.) Snapping out of his absentminded reverie, Lukas cleared his throat immediately. "Ah. I apologize--"

Raven haired and dignified, her piercing amethyst gaze shared something with him by sharing nothing at all. "Miss Nevrand." A nod. Hands off.

"Seems like you and I are picking through the same poisons. Heh." To him, books were just as poignant as any gold brew, right? Politely, he bowed and took a step back just to give her some room to think.

Shamir Nevrand has been dropped and is now available!

Clair has been reserved!

You have one week (12/27) to submit your blog and application to the masterlist. Thank you for your reserve!

[ starter for @godlessarrow , part 1 of 2. prompted by an ask. ]

A gay whistle trailed through the early-morning air, bright as a robin’s song, as Caspar strolled off-campus to the labeled clearing on his map with bow on back and targets in hand. Finally, the day of Shamir’s appointment had come, and he wasn’t going to miss it for the world! She’d told him her schedule was too tight to make promises, so when she’d finally approached him with a date to start teaching him archery, he’d promised himself to be there ten minutes early; and early he was indeed—thirty minutes ahead of his promise, in fact; not long after the sun had risen. He’d been hoping to get some basic archery practice in before Shamir arrived and had brought along training-room targets and twine for that very purpose.

The copse around him framed a wide-open space, perfect even for above-midrange shooting; and Caspar wasted no time in shimmying up a tree and hanging a target off its axial branch before hopping back down and repeating the process with the trunk adjacent. It still struck him as odd that the Dagdan mercenary would pick a location so noticeably removed from the monastery; but he was sure she would explain when she arrived, and it wasn’t so far that he couldn’t see Garreg Mach anymore. The boy was nothing if not trusting, for better or worse; and so, undeterred, he continued whistling as he scampered up tree after tree, tying up target after target until all four had been securely anchored at ascending heights. Caspar beamed down at his little array from his nest of branches and, turning, jumped clear down to the ground below. He hit the ground with a roll and sprang back up, bouncing to where his training bow lay and nocking an arrow. Squinting along the shaft, he began to draw…

“Caspar. What are you doing?”

Catherine just left Shamir to clean the glass from the booze that fell. She offered to do it and Catherine didn’t want to step on her toes. So she told Shamir she’d be right back.

Not too long ago Catherine saw a stall selling something from Dagda, and she was hoping if anything this might help Shamir relax a bit. When she got there she found out it wasDagdan Corn on the Cob. It was grilled and made to perfection from what she was hearing other customers say. She had corn on multiple occasions, but if it’s Dagdan she’s hoping it’ll mean more.

As much as they butted heads, and as much as Shamir blasphemed, Catherine did want to get to know her more. Having a friend as an ally was more beneficial than having an enemy as an ally after all. So she chose to make an honest attempt to get them closer when she could. Even though Shamir seldom respected Lady Rhea as she should.

She bought two corn on the cobs and went to find Shamir where they were just cleaning up the glass.

“Hey Shamir. Got you a snack. You know, for saving me from the poisonous spider.” Catherine called out, walking over to her. She handed her the corn on the cob and gave her a smile.

“Some vendor is selling some Dagdan corn on the cob. The customers around them said it tasted great. Thought you’d like it.” Catherine commented, taking a bite of her own. It was just as tasty as advertised. 

send me a ❤ for what i love about your muse! | @godlessarrow

ooc. oh man, i love shamir haha.

i’ve essentially been rotating the non-student recruitables that i like through my various files, and i did shamir first. ( along with seteth. then i did catherine in VW, then manuela for CF. plan on finally using cyril for fucking once in my second AM playthrough. )

the shallow reason may or may not have been that she’s hot af

i like shamir a lot as a character too, though. in a lot of ways she is the typical like, emotionless assassin with a good heart type, but i like the nuances she has that fill that out, too. most characters of that trope aren’t usually very emotionally mature, but i find shamir to be refreshing in that department. i enjoy her supports where she talks about how she doesn’t hold grudges against people for what happened in dagda, and how she kind of evaluates people by what she sees.

i think i’m also drawn to just… how sad she is, in a way, too. that she has nowhere to go, really, and there’s nowhere she really belongs. that her loyalty really only lies places temporarily, and that in a lot of ways she’s just been drifting since the war. but she doesn’t wallow in that; she kind of accepts it and lives with it in a very pragmatic way, like she knows this is just how it is for her now.

and the lost love still being grieved for……………. please. that always gets me….

ultimately, though, i really like how she’s kind of like. yeah, a cold, methodical, serious, very sort of T person, but in so many of her supports, you see that she’s really got such a range of emotions, and she feels so much more than she lets on. i really like that about her.

Late Night Self Reflection | not accepting

Full moon: what type of person do you hope to be?

He thinks first of his father, the man he had idolized all those years ago.Stern, meticulous, intelligent, objective - qualities that veiled the rot within him.A lying, manipulative, contemptible traitor.The memories turn his eyes away, toward the ground, and his fingers twitch imperceptibly for something to dig into. The betrayal still feels as fresh as it did that day, stinging like the opened blister of a burn.That traitor had been too selfish. Too caught up in his own ideas.Unshakable though Hubert may be, fear of a predisposition to that very same fate creeps over him on the days that his task list for Edelgard goes unfinished. Or when disappointment flashes, however brief, across her face for a failure she is too merciful to voice.His worry hides away in often overbearing doting.

The person he hopes to be is the man his father should have been.The heir to cover up the black mark now staining his house’s name.

“I merely wish to be Her Highness’ humble servant. Nothing more.”

The tool to cut the emperor’s path. To fulfill her goals. An object to be used as she sees fit. 

Something is shoved in his face. No ceremony, not words, just...a head of corn? Inigo looks up from the clothing vendor to see Shamir. Confused, he accepts the food.