#indevouement

it was a very positive experience (and basically went like this)

...

"...shit! Holy shit!" Alcryst sees a body drop in the distance, a shadow shaped vaguely like a man—an Elusian mage. Behind him Rutile laughs in disbelief, shocked delight, "No way!" His friend's hand roughly grabs his shoulders and shakes him frantically, joyously. "No way!! You bagged the guy!"

Alcryst freezes. For a young boy who has always been compared to Diamant, for whom praise is usually given with some kind of qualifier thrown in, this cheer and celebration for something he did is practically foreign. He keeps waiting for that but moment: Diamant would have done it better, he would not have hesitated a moment before the shot. It never comes. Only glory. Triumph. An unquestionable victory.

Heavier footsteps come behind them, then his cousin Sterling's annoyed rebuke. "Stop all your shouting, soldier. You're so loud you'll wake up the Divine Dragon— what the hell are you even shooting at?"

Rutile speaks up first, "Alcryst shot an enemy soldier! From 200 meters!"

"...Don't pull my leg, man."

"Just look!" Sterling is given a telescope, Alcryst scrambles for one as well. He sees his target, what was his target, lay unmoving on the unpaved road with a single arrow sticking out of their chest. Then,

"Two more coming in," Sterling reports. "Checking on their friend, most likely."

Alcryst hands off the telescope to Rutile before readying his bow once more. Blood roars in his ears. There's an unmistakable thrill in his heart that compels him to draw another arrow. And yet, for all of energy and excitement going on around him, Alcryst finds his mind quiet, focused on the task at hand.

Two arrows loose in fairly quick succession. Moments later, an uproar surrounds him.

"Are you kidding me! Are you fucking kidding me!" Rutile hollers.

Other men come up to the scene, "What's with all the noise!"

"Alcryst smoked three guys from 200 meters!"

As more and more people joined the celebration, Sterling pulls his cousin into his arms and ruffles his hair, shaking him, "Cos! Who knew a kid like you was a stone-cold killer all this time!"

"Amazing, Alcryst!"

"Three of them at that distance? Incredible!"

The sight of that vague figure goes forgotten as Alcryst is surrounded by praise, warm affection, smiles. Alcryst can't help but grin and laugh as the others begin to chant his name. Mother and Father will be so proud!

The petite priestess’ opinion (o・・o)/ ♡ - last one!

Jakob; a very gallant and diligent retainer, probably one of the most attentive one Sakura has ever met. Yet, unluckily for her, the two of them didn’t really have much time on their hand to know each other before the events of the Garreg Mach Monastery: they’ve met on very few occasions, mostly in casual and passing encounters. Despite this, the petite princess developed a very high opinion about Jakob while at the monastery, especially due to the fact that he always was very gentle and very capable of his tasks, especially with the Nohr family, since he was apparently tied with them.

“Mister Jakob is very hardworking and punctual, nothing could flee from his observant eyes” she softly giggled, knowing that even that affirmation of hers would probably reach his ears, “But unluckily for us, we didn’t have the time to properly know about each other” she let a slow sigh slipped from her lips as she thought about it, leaving a bitter-sweet feeling inside her chest.

Actually thinking, Sakura had some brief moments with him in the past, but she kind of forgot them, for her own mind safety: bad memories were the worst fear for her, especially when it happened that them might resurface in her mind –she simply couldn’t stand them, so she worked on her mental stability and overcome the fear, even though she still thought about them with a hint of terror. Maybe a close contact with Jakob could make the memories flow back into her mind and maybe that would hurt her chest even more, but she always been a good heart and despite the horrible events she lived through, she would definitely give an opportunity to Jakob too.

"my lady," jakob greets her with a smile ( he always does ! ), warm & genuine. hands settle themselves upon teacup , fine porcelain , heated to that of her liking. it is a simple fact jakob is inherently a follower - and that he likes to be. where corrin winds up , he is not far from following , dutiful retainer as he is. "as you would have expected, i found my way to you, as always." truth be told, it was uncomfortable to be separate. come the day corrin left , he knew he would leave too. and thus time repeats itself, on her return to the monastery, jakob comes, too. he remembers the first day he arrived. tea finds its way to fine china, in which he settles atop of serving plate and rests it upon his palm. in mimicry, he speaks. "may i show you around ?" of course, he knows corrin knows this place better than he does. and yet, it is his silent playfulness, an inkling of his humour - unspoken, don't you remember that day you offered me this ? "of course, i understand if that's not of your preference . . . " he backtracks. corrin was one of the few ( the only. ) that had the benefit of seeing what was not his blatantly dry humor. "lady corrin."

"As always," Corrin agrees, smile creasing the corners of her eyes. She is a creature of habit, a loyal thing, and in that she has lived a life easily imprinted upon by others. So much so that she feels their absences like a severed limb when they are far.

And Jakob's weighs heavier than most.

She does not have to tell him that she is glad to be in his company again, but she does anyway. She will continue to, every morning and evening until she tires of it. Which she won't-- she hasn't for this long, after all. He is a memory of all that is good, because he has been there for it all. Her shadow, her most dedicated of friends. He would certainly reject the notion, of course, but that has never once stopped her from believing it.

If her smile could ever possibly span wider than it does now, she is sure that it would. A giggle into her hand; of course she remembers. Not even death could pry such a recollection from her, as with their every reunion.

[ hc + ... = ??? Still Accepting! ]

[ :)

Faye is the kind of person to hold many regrets, some that are always on her mind and some she may never be aware of until it's too late. One that comes back to me a lot, though, is a regret of a lack of friends. A regret of loneliness.

Put it this way: Ram Village is small. At most, Faye is known to interact with the small number of childen  she can consider friends, that primarily being Gray, Tobin, Kliff, and Alm. Sure, some of them have siblings, but these four make the core friend group. And where do all four of them end up, once the war ends? Out in Valentia, restoring the continent, and more often than not far from Ram. In comparison, Faye returns home and eventually ends up with an unnamed suitor (if we're considering SoV's ending text).

She cares about her home; the familiar scenes and family she loves. But at the same time, who else is left to truly be her friend, to distract her from the continuous life of farmwork as she remains just as distant from the world when she was a child? She had a chance to make a difference, to reach out and relate to more people while in the Deliverance (just as Silque attempts in her supports), but in the end her laser-focus on one person leaves her with almost nothing when it's all over.

@indevouement

One of the largest farms in the Adrestian countryside has recently been ravaged, ruining an entire season’s potential yields. Signs of crops being trampled and rows of plants being burnt to no more than lines of ash suggest sabotage, and so the farmers are pointing fingers at anyone and everyone that could potentially fit the bill of saboteur. If you can’t fix the problem, the farmhands are demanding you at least find the culprit or they’ll find them themselves, but with their pitchforks at the ready. Can their sense of ‘justice’ truly be relied upon right now?

It surprises Flora when she receives a letter of notice that she is being sent on a mission on behalf of Garreg Mach and the Church of Sieros. The signature from the Archbishop at the bottom makes the request feel less like an ask and more like a demand, a sense of duty to fulfill. It leaves a somewhat bitter taste on her tongue reminiscent of times spent being ordered to do things by another person in power. Regardless, Flora packs her bag and heads for the horse stalls to meet with her partner for the mission. 

continued from here! @indevouement

Her own cake fork, laden with chocolate sponge and cream is a hair's breadth from her mouth when he asks her the questions. Ten seconds to think. Not enough time to savour the cake first. The corners of Julia's mouth dip into a frown as she places the fork down for the time being.

"I would equip Nosferatu and attack the Sniper, pre-emptively. If I had more training with daggers and short swords, I'd consider that for the strength they sap, or the potential to induce poison," her hands fold in her lap, resisting the urge to indulge her sweet tooth. That can wait, at least until she's explained her reasoning. Julia meets Jakob's gaze inquisitively - whist she's certain of her own answer she's sure that there's always more to learn, to understand. Of course, she wants to impress him, to live up to her father's pride in her. But more importantly, his response could save her life, or another's. It's valuable and so he has her undivided attention. "I am very confident in my abilities with magic, especially faith magic. I do not wish to sound arrogant - I aspire to improve. But I am certain that, even if I couldn't kill the Sniper in one hit that I'd disrupt him. Buy a few moments of time."

"At that point I'd make my way to my ally, moving to make a clear hit even harder. If I take a hit, Nosferatu should allow me to recover enough health to adapt my plan. I would sincerely wish to help my ally, no matter who they are. Yet do we have access to other recovery staffs in the convoy? Besides that, there's another factor," No matter how genuinely she means this, Julia is well aware the battlefield is not an ideal situation. If she is there to provide healing as Jakob states, and as she always endeavours to do, she must prioritise her own safety. The truth is uncomfortable and a bitter pill to swallow, but she cannot protect an army if she risks her life recklessly for the sake of a single person. "If the Sniper is still after my head, and a genuine threat, I would have to accept the reality of the situation. I would face them head on and take the initiative. My heart would feel great sorrow, but I would take out the Sniper to keep myself alive and well."

"Alive, I can still heal my other comrades. Dead, even if I healed one person, the rest of my regiment is in grave danger as the battle continues. If possible I would heal everyone but the reality of war is not so rosy. I am far more useful to the army alive than dead. I cannot always save everyone, so I would place the needs of many over those of a few."

Finally she can enjoy her cake! She needs it after such a grim discussion. The sweetness on her tongue lightens her mood enough for her to press Jakob for answers.

[toawitchesaccord] from across the room, come the reveal of the votes, he stares at her. a really pointed stare, for at least a minute, before he speaks. "well," jakob shrugs, masking frustration in his voice. "quite the noblewoman with a two-timing tendency, are we?"

he shakes his head, sardonic smile donning his features. "admirable," he adds. "aristocracy who lie and scheme are rather popular in nohr. you'd do well in my home country."

The second shackle latches onto the first, alerting everyone gathered to Miranda's decision. Chief among them is the very person that she had betrayed, his gaze burning into her back. He had been more than willing to ally and yet she had pulled the rug out from under his feet.

All for the difference of a single candy.

It's a hollow victory, one that she can't even bring herself to celebrate. They're tied now, but no smile rises to her face. Why? Why isn't she happy? Miranda can't smile, but Jakob can. Isn't that unfair? He's not happy, either, so why can he smile and she can't?

"My father was unfailingly kind and he paid for that with his life," she shoots back, hands clenched. "If I do not want to be betrayed, then I must betray first. I cannot allow even the slightest risk."

She turns her head away.

he stands in her doorstep , broom in-hand. uniform creases smoothed, no, ironed -- the brooch on his neck shined, clawed fingers clasped on wooden hilt and pressed against his heart. to his credit, for a man who despised mornings with every fiber of his being, he did well to make himself presentable. almost as if he did not let out an agonizing groan the moment his eyes opened and he realized, no, he did not have an extra five minutes.

the sun has not risen, but he has, with ample time to spare. as he always did, begrudgingly, though jakobs features did well to betray it. "good morning, flora, pardon my intrusion. i'm well aware it is only 4 o'clock, am, contrary to my typical 4.30." a curt nod, and he leans the broomstick against the door. did he really mean pardon? that was up to her to decide. "but i have opted to stick to my nohrian sleeping schedule of early wakefulness, and this is my only free time this morning."

eyes scan hers for signs of sleepiness. whatever he saw, he appeared content with it ( for she had either been awake by now , or at the very least , he was met with a response in the dead of morning ). "regardless . . . yes, welcome to the monastery. i'd expect felicia to be beside herself with enthusiasm," and almost on cue, it seems as if his free time was up. shuffling through the bag on his shoulder, he presents to flora a list of monastery documents. maps, his own class times, the upcoming menu. "this will certainly assist you in getting your bearings. i would hope you've been up before this hour to get ahead of things, however? surely."

on that, he turns on his heel and he shakes his head. "i've spent far too long here. i've fallen behind on schedule . . . i need to arrive to the morning markets far before anyone else."

jakob presents her a curt bow, a fleeting look of displeasure on his face. oh, he was going to have to stand in line now for an extra five minutes. disgusting. "goodbye, flora."

he takes the broom, and he leaves, closing the door as he goes.

Despite Flora's put-together presentation upon greeting her early-morning visitor, the long journey to the Monastery exhausted the former maid. The crisp knock at her door roused her from her much-needed sleep, but her years of servitude trained her body to rise quickly when summoned. Flora took exactly fourteen seconds to draw herself out of bed, smooth her hair, and pull on a dress over her nightclothes. Opening the door, though, she finds herself frozen as she stares up at Jakob: a former colleague, a dutiful butler, and the former object of youthful hopeless dreams. They were fleeting hopes of a naive girl, and life has wisened Flora up to useless dreams of a future that cannot exist in the same realm as duty and destiny.

"Ah, good morning, Jakob," Flora manages to greet him before he thrusts papers into her hands, which she accepts with a slight nod, her gray gaze flitting over the documents. Nearby, crickets chirp in accompaniment with Jakob's early-morning rambling. She nods her head again and smiles. despite the lie on her tongue "Yes, I was already up thinking about what tea to drink this morning." She chuckles behind her hand politely at his expression as he frets over his delayed arrival at the market. Some things never change, it appears.