#kingoftempests

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd and Petra Macneary have been dropped and are now available!

on the third night of their plight, there’s fireflies. away from the banks, they drift in minimal presence. a lone luminescence amidst the dreary night, a lone guidance— drifting. their presence tonight is profound, linhardt thinks. for, somewhere in a book he had read, they were symbolic for the spirits of the fallen. he may not have known the bodies that had plagued the banks personally but, as a firefly rests upon his shoulder and dimly glows, he cannot help but be appreciative. by an odd chance, perhaps the soldiers’ spirits have carried to these adrift lights. a good conclusion, linhardt thinks as he watches the beetle, an ending to which they are cleansed the horrific, final moments of war.

he’s about done with his business in the foliage when a violent rustle catches the heir’s attention. it startles him, heart leaping to the flat of his tongue as he freezes, alert. it’s silent— then, he hears it again, louder, paired with a harsh howl of wind. it is only when the rustling comes closer that linhardt springs to his feet, the firefly on his shoulder immediately taking off as the heir stumbles back. when a snap is heard near him, linhardt’s breath hitches, then he twists and jets off into the direction back to camp.

“dimitri—!” he calls breathless once he makes it back to familiarity, where a figure sits by the campside flame. the heir scrambles about until he plops himself by his schoolmate, skin pallid. “dimitri, i—!” no, he can’t talk— he’s wasting breath-- he needs a moment to collect himself— linhardt topples over, hands clawing at his chest as he desperately tries to calm his breath.

“dimitri, there’s-- there’s something over there..!” linhardt points to where he came, “and it tried to chase me...!” no, he definitely wasn’t overacting and he definitely wasn’t influenced by mercedes’ ghost story earlier. he was being rational. completely rational and very much justified about an unknown source in the forests. 

Stranger things have happened in the past—being transported to a beach by some otherworldly power after “expunging evil from five realities” scarcely fazes him, now. Much as he’d rather they just return to their proper world already, a chance to relax and recuperate doesn’t sound so bad... and he gets the distinct feeling it’s been a considerable length of time since he last saw certain faces.

"Oh, Di- I mean, Prince Dimitri,” Alfonse greets in return, smiling warmly even as he hopes his brief lapse in formality goes unnoticed. he hasn’t grown as close to this dimitri. he can’t use his name so casually—dimitri only uses his because he’d kept his title a secret. “Of course I’ll help. And I appreciate you going out of your way to do the same for me.”

Calloused hand—for once, free of the glove that always seems to encase it—plucks the bottle from Dimitri’s grasp, uncapping it while waiting for the other to free himself from the confines of his shirt. Looks up a second or two after, and—

Fruit headcanons

Also asked by @soireenea and @kingoftempests

The haikus is probably an obvious weird habit of hers so glossing right over that one.

As the result of an old thread on my old Mitama blog with Pent, Mitama raises birds. Pigeons, mostly. She had to abandon most of them in her deeprealm when she was dragged along to the warfront, but her caretakers are still keeping the alive and well as per her instructions. She experimented with using them to send letters through to other deeprealms when she was younger, but only one of the birds was ever really good at actually crossing the realms.

If you ever see a particularly fat and spoiled pigeon around the monastery, that’s Mitama’s, please don’t bully him.

She also studies cursed artifacts and ways to contain them, inspired by a certain accident when she was younger. She hasn’t gotten a particularly good grasp on not making them yet, but she knows well enough how to contain them if they do appear.

Modern AU Mitama can rap.

A raised brow, and he turns in the direction of Dimitri’s voice—

Result: Hit!

Ah. It may as well have been a tidal wave for how it crashes into him, thoroughly drenching him from head to toe with the excess dripping from saturated hair and fabric. He blinks once. Twice.

“You have five seconds to start running.”

[roll 4]

Hilda's eyes grew wide with fear as a crazed Dimitri ran toward her, wash bin in tow. She had seen this look before. The determination to win in his eyes was the same look she saw in the husk that she had slain. For a split second, she was back on that battlefield, Freikugel in hand, monster rushing toward her.

She did the only thing she could thing to do. She screeched and ducked, covering her head. The water was tossed right over her and she was safe. Hilda stayed there a moment more before Dimitri left and went on his way.

Of all the things to happen on this beach Bernadetta didn’t remember coming to, getting handed what was practically a flowering log by the prince of Faerghus was not one of them.

(Why did the thought of Faerghus make her heart race so intensely?)

“Woah!” Bernadetta stumbled a bit as the bough was handed to her. One end of it landed with a thump on the sand, but she managed to stay upright on her shaking legs. “H-how did you...Where did you...You found the greenhouse here?”

Still, the flowers sprouting from it looked healthy. It was...actually kind of pretty, despite how strange it was to be holding it. “U-um, you’re welcome! I really don’t feel like I helped all that much but I’m, uh, glad you found it useful? I’d, uh...maybe pluck the flowers from it next time, I don’t think I’m as strong as you to carry this around!”

why, if it isn’t the crown prince of faerghus! ferdinand may be no citizen of faerghus, but anyone with an introductory level of knowledge in fodlan knew the incoming rulers of each nation. it seems as if prince dimitri wishes to converse, much to the aegir scion’s delight. jubilation sparks in amber hues, a wide grin splayed upon smooth lips as ferdinand prepares himself for an introduction. there is much to talk about with prince dimitri and, whilst he’d much prefer if they spoke of matters over tea, the shoreline was decent enough.

...but why was dimitri running?

ferdinand was well prepared to inquire, a singular brow vaguely dented in confusion, before he noticed the presence of a basin. right, they were still in the midst of battle and it seems as if dimitri is leading the frontlines for his team.

roll: 5! total miss!