#leocorrin

Leo casts a surreptitious glance at his retainer, who continues to dutifully read over student essays before scribbling a grade atop the parchment. There doesn't appear to be anything serious bothering Odin, nothing that would account for the unusual silence of the last half hour.

Which can mean two other things: one, Odin is truly concentrating on his work, or two, he's mulling over some question in his mind but hasn't yet found the proper way to voice it.

Leo reaches for the next essay in his own stack. He's barely read the opening sentence when Odin finally breaks their tranquility.

With crab?

Slowly, Leo sets the paper down. Stares at Odin.

With crab?

He's used to odd questions and phrasings, has grown quite adept at sifting through the flowery language for the root meaning. But this? For the first time in years, Leo's at an utter loss.

Wait. A frown pulls at his lips, a crease wrinkling his brow. Is this some kind of...euphemism for something?

Corrin's not with child again, is she?

No. She'd tell Leo before anyone else. He discards that thought as quickly as it arrived, shaking his head in bewilderment.

oh my god i loVE their festival of bonds convo it's so funny. he's so turned on by the fact that he married his sister without technically marrying his sister. coupled with the fact that kamui is frankly the only s support partner he actually has any chemistry with............. that man is a siscon through and through.

i skimmed through that comic book earlier and there was a little more siscon leon actually (with bonus siscon takumi):

@princepsumbra ♡

Her days have passed in relative silence. Things ease back into normalcy, those who had returned from Rusalka all coming back into reality proper. She’s glad to feel something akin to alright again -- for the world to have finally stopped spinning.

A lot of things have gone unsaid, though. She swiftly dodges opportunities to speak of what had happened in the village, waving them away with a dismissive hand. It’s not hard to think about, for the most part, but she doesn’t exactly want to either.

Faustus accepts her hand on his nose as well as the kiss that follows immediately to his forehead. It’s quiet in the stables, save for the sound of Leo shuffling about. Moments like these have been sorely missed, the comfort that comes with familiarity. Faustus is awarded another kiss, just for good measure.

“Your dream,” her voice breaks their quiet finally, spoken without looking at or even properly addressing Leo, “you haven’t told me what it was like.”

A number of you are sent straight to Fhirdiad to warn King Rufus, only to arrive too late. The guards say that he is with two young princesses, a “Celica” and a “Corrin”, and are naturally aghast when they find out the truth. That said, this must be dealt with carefully: the king’s, nay, all of House Blaiddyd’s reputation is on the line, and an embarrassment of this magnitude would shame the family for generations to come. There is only one option: to don a variety of disguises as you follow after the king’s date night through the market district and separate him from the ‘princesses’. [Grants Heavy Armor +1]

Odin can hardly believe that the king actually bought a Corrin wearing shoes.

But deep down, he knows not everyone can be a master of disguise. Managing to wangle the costume back into his hands, he’s donning the garb of his lord Leo for the second time now: a task he always wanted to perform again, but was never given the chance. And, to his credit, it’s actually a convincing outfit. His facial structure and locks of snipped blonde are easy to pass off as the prince’s, and though there is a slight height difference to the two men, it’s negligible to the untrained eye. No, where his charade often... Falls apart, is in his ability to act with the same cynicism and pragmatic curtness as his liege. Odin is, simply put, a much different breed. 

It’s worked in Nohr, though. So here’s hoping it’ll fool Faerghus. 

“At last we arrive!” he announces, like himself and not at all like Leo, and with a flaring pose to boot, “Hark, for this is the stuff of legends! Two brave heroes, going undercover in the guise of night to liberate a mighty monach from the chilling woes of an imposter! Aren’t you excited, Laslow?” His old friend’s face is sought out for the same kind of excitement that shines on his, but quickly realizing his mistake, Odin fumbles his words to correct himself, “Er, I mean, Definitely-Not-Laslow, for I am the umbral Prince Leo, here to reclaim mine beloved maiden of yore... And I love tomatoes!” 

Is he selling it too much? He’s definitely selling it too much.

‘Bad’ is a generous way of putting things. But if Rufus is so easy to trick with that shoddy Corrin and lackluster Celica, there is hope yet for our Avenger of Righteous Justice. The three are just in view now, striding across the bustling market scene to peruse some of the Kingdom’s vendors. In spite of the time of day the streets are packed, likely due to the excitement of bearing witness to the very trio that Odin and Laslow are tailing now. Craning his neck around the people in front of him reveals to Odin that they are taking their time with some pelted furs--likely an early winter preparation. He’d laugh were he not trying to pass off as cool and mysterious, for even in the frigid ice tribes of his second home, Odin’s raging blood was all he needed to keep warm. 

Regardless, the stage is set for the duo to make their entrance. As the merchant puts on his most suave face and smooths his hand over a sheepskin like puffy clouds, the King’s finger comes to rest at his chin. It is evident that he’s thinking about something, and likely to seek the second and third opinion’s of his celebrity entourage. It’s perfect. All Odin needs is the confirmation from Laslow that he is ready, and he’d make his way over posthaste.

Continued from here

For such a prestigious and well known academy, this place sure was empty. He had heard wind of a grand mission most of the student body and staff had gone on, and while  he was a tad jealous to be missing all of the action, it would do him good to catch up on some beauty sleep before classes. There wasn’t a moment where he hadn’t been tossing and turning on that boat!

It was in the hallway that he passed by a very handsome stranger, looking him up and down and— oh. Was he also checking him out…?

The archer smirks, stopping in his tracks and clearing his throat. “Why, aren’t those beautiful— giving them to anyone in particular?” He leaned against the nearest wall, hoping that the other man would stop and at least chat for a bit. It was only fair, given how he had been looking at him.

Jakob turned, eyebrows raised. Few dared disturb him during his work— but this stranger was lucky in stumbling upon one of his favorite subjects.

“Yes. My Lady Corrin, in fact.” He looked at the vase in his hands, the sweetly perfumed purple flowers paling in comparison to Corrin’s grace, but they were nonetheless an appropriate offer. “Corrin is the best liege I could ever hope to serve. She did not request them, but I tend to her every need, anticipated and otherwise,” he declared proudly. “All others fail to compare to Corrin- yourself included of course, but it cannot be helped.”

Matter of fact, direct, what else could be desired from conversation?

He paused, frowning.

“I’ll have you know Lady Corrin is married, thank you very much. Don’t get any ideas regarding her. Leo would have your head.”

> starter for: @ofdusk

Are you stuck with glass bones and paper skin? Sick of just having pedestrian magic to your name? The professors are holding a special class for the squishiest of mages, clerics, and archers, where they may learn close-quarters self-defense if they’re ambushed by an enemy. [Grants Gauntlets +1]

In the past, he’d hold little interest in such a seminar, content with relying on his skill with both magic and blades to see him through most situations. 

He realizes now he held a narrow minded view, never moving past the limitations he’d placed on himself in childhood. The monastery had proven time and again he’d often be left stranded without the defense mechanisms he most trusted. His experience in the arena a few months prior had cemented what he’d long suspected—it was time for him to expand his weapon proficiency. 

Admittedly, Leo had dragged his feet about the whole ordeal, mulling it over in his head for weeks. Picking up something other than a tome or a sword brought with it a flood of memories, echoes of a competitive little prince desperate for the same level of greatness as his older brother. 

Until a perfect opportunity appeared in the form of a flyer posted on every bulletin board in the monastery. 

He’d presented it to Corrin last evening, quietly informing her of his decision to improve his knowledge. A backup plan, he’d called it, praising her own use of gauntlets while in the arena. Turning his body—for so long a point of contention, of weakness—into a potential weapon clicked the way no other pursuit had. He’d never be strong enough to heft an axe or wear a full general’s armor, and past attempts at wielding faith magic had yielded little fruit. 

Standing in the bright light of morning, he reminds himself of all the reasons he’s even on the training yard with a pair of training gloves strapped around his wrists. Attention snaps to Corrin while the instructor informs them of the importance of a proper fighting stance. 

Mud still clings to his clothes. He'd tried cleaning it off as best he could with a damp towel provided by a healer, yet the dark stains remain.

Admitting defeat for the second time that day, he sets the towel aside, eager to be discharged so he can change into a fresh set of clothes. Blond head snaps up at the familiar voice. Of course she'd be here, doting on everyone.

They can bandage up his torn skin, yet all the mages in history have yet to find a way to bandage wounded pride.

Leo thanks the healer who finishes wrapping a clean cloth around his shoulder. They nod before walking a few feet away to their next patient. With a sigh, he leans back against the cot, willing the dull throbbing radiating along his arm and chest to calm.

Lazily, he scans the med tent, noting those who are also out of the competition. Some seem to be relieved they're out of the less than ideal conditions, while others chatter happily away with their neighbors. Only then does he spot a familiar head of ivory hair in the row across from him.

What did she do now? he wonders fondly, carefully getting out of his cot. He wends his way over to her, sitting on the edge of her own cot.

"Hello, Corrin." Eyes slowly analyze her, searching for the telltale sign of white cloth. "What happened?"

She’s been waiting for him.

In part because she misses him -- because she worries for his own health, and because his company is always at the top of her list of desirable things -- but also because she knows exactly what’s coming when he sees her.

It takes only the shift of her cot as weight settles upon it for her to know that it is him, crimson eyes opening halfway to confirm that fact. Her cheeks warm under his gaze, face turning away sheepishly.

“Oh, nothing,” dismissive. She knows that is quite glaringly untrue, however, considering the reddened bandages that show where her shirt rides up or that (much more obviously) are wound around her leg. “Just uh... some claws.”

Really, it wouldn’t be all too bad if she hadn’t made a damn fool of herself before getting mauled. Though if she had gotten Xander that bad when last he spoke those words to her, he likely would have been proud.