#gottgenug

Sitri frowns as she stares at the dummy. So, swords are not her forte. Magic seemed to be the only thing that came naturally to her anyway. So with frustration, the tiny woman shoves the sword into the dummy before realizing she's not alone in the training room. --- Jeralt. The sword doesn't even pierce the dummy, falling to the door with a clatter. Better him than Rhea... she wouldn't tolerate Sitri training like this. When she's finally feeling good, she's going to relish in it.

But, she felt having an understanding of how to protect herself would be nice. However, she didn't think Jeralt would catch her so frustrated. " I can't get it. The sword is so heavy, but I feel as if I should learn some sort of weapon. Just in case. "

Despite her frustration, she does smile at him. It spread slowly... like she wanted to fight it but she couldn't. He was the only would who understood her. She was certain of that. His stories of the world outside of the monastery... kept her doing.

Luce, rbs man handling meme:

   KIRK HAS LIVED TOO LONG, he likes to say, only to be chided for it by spock. though, he’s unarguably lived a long time— whether it’s an appropriate amount or not, he’ll leave for someone else to decide. 

   so, when the crew members of this timeline come to him or spock for conversation, and maybe a bit of advice, james has to remind himself not to talk too much all at once. there are boundless stories, anecdotes, tales that sound too made up, but remain truthfull nevertheless. and pavel is young, younger perhaps than the counterpart james has spent a lifetime with. he doesn’t want to overwhelm him, or worse, look silly in front of him.

   he might be old, but age hasn’t turned him stupid. not any stupider than he already was in the first place, he thinks.

   ‘ a valuable view of the world we live in, mister chekov. ‘ nodding slowly, kirk gives him a jovial smile, still thinking about how to best put this. ‘ the universe we traverse, we wouldn’t exist without. at the same time, without exploration, we’d know nothing about the universe. ‘ and exploration has been his life’s work. james closes his eyes for a moment, dwelling on memories. ‘ but it’s the people that give it meaning. space is unforgiving, but full of life. it’s up to us to traverse it respectfully, to share in the care you’re speaking of. ‘

Pavel thinks the word family in a whisper, as if even daring to think it would invite fate to rip it all away from him. Two, almost three years on the Enterprise has made the word real where it only previously existed as flashes of memory for the past decade of his life. A longing that sometimes stung in his chest.

He might not ever admit that out loud, but Pavel can scarcely imagine, at this moment in time, exploring the dangerous unknown reaches of space without the crew of the Enterprise at his side.

As he stands on the receiving end of older Kirk's smile, he can't keep from wondering if he feels the same way about his own crew, the one he left behind in the other timeline. Running in tandem to that, he finds his thoughts centred on that Enterprise, on the differences between who he was there and who he is here, now.

Already, in the short time he has been here, Pavel has noticed many differences between this Kirk and the man he calls Captain—and, quietly, friend—that extend far beyond the obvious physical ones.

Those, he keeps to himself.

     When Linhardt says that he most certainly IS bothering him, Dimitri almost seems to DEFLATE-- not that he was very BUBBLY to start with. He opens his mouth to APOLOGIZE, but then the scholar continues. The prince BLINKS across at him blearily, brow furrowing. DOES HE or DOES HE NOT want him here??? Dimitri strides further into the room, hands clasping together behind his back as he approaches the green-haired boy.

          “...AH... I could not sleep, so I came here.” He leaves it hanging there like that for a moment, veering off to one of the shelves which is CHOCK-FULL of books. His TIRED gaze sweeps over the bindings as he searches for SOMETHING that may put his weary mind at ease. UNFORTUNATELY, he is all too aware of Linhardt’s presence. The prince turns on his heel to regard them again, frowning.

          “Perhaps you can help me, if you are in here often-- do you know where I might find a book with information regarding the GREAT PLAGUE OF 1160? Something about it is EATING AWAY AT ME, so I feel that I should read up on it.” He shifts his weight onto his left foot, the right digging at the floor beneath him.

         everything had happened so quickly. everything from being found by jeralt to somehow being back within monastery halls.   ---   & she’s nervous. she can’t believe that alferic did something so vile... just to bring her back from the dead. & almost at the cost of four of his own students

        so now, she stands at her own grave. she had been dead. gone & buried for years. decades even. her own child is grown in front of her eyes. what’s she supposed to do now? she isn’t even sure if she still belongs.

        but then she hears someone behind her. before sitri can even turn around, she knows it’s jeralt. she wants to smile. she really really does. especially because it’s him. because it’s been so long.

        but there is one thing she’ll always know: she does not have to mince words to him.

f.s. fitzgerald prompts  /  accepting

     “Fine,  Linhardt,  but only for a moment.  Please do not fall asleep here if you can help it.”  He feels the weight of Linhardt’s head at his collar.  The plush wool of his favorite cologne-laced jacket bunches and ripples beneath the press of Linhardt’s cheek in a way that would irritate Ferdinand—he will have to steam that wrinkle out later—were it not already well past midnight,  and his inhibitions waned along with the moon.  Nor were it any less endearing. 

     He dips his quill in its well and finds the ink long dry.  The parchment splayed out before him is a brutal stack,  scrawled with immaculate cursive that has only recently shown a newfound tremble as his fingers at last grow tired.   His eyes,  too,  feel the weight;  the candles have all dimmed to dangerous lull.  Still,  as ever,  he endures.