#nabataprophet

That naïve thought of hers is usually an expression of admiration, but tonight it's accompanied by a grimace. There is a shambling, brutalized corpse walking around, dripping blood wherever he goes. And for some strange reason, the people who encounter him all yell at him rather than check on his injuries.

...?

....????

Maybe this is actually normal here and Sophia is the one who doesn't understand...? No, but surely big gashes that evoke the suggestion of dragon claws would be cause for concern in most places...??? She couldn't deny that she had seen dark magic do terrible things to a person's body, either, but never quite this bad.

"Um, I was... going to ask... if you wanted..." Her violet eyes are spinning trying to figure out where exactly to look. Even if everyone else thinks this is perfectly normal, is this really the time for trick-or-treating? "...No, um... should I... find a healer first...?"

A Heal or Physic Staff wouldn't even begin to make a dent in this and that's all Sophia has. She's a witch shaman, not a priest, after all.

This is the one. Griss can feel it. This witch has been drifting around with that kind of dazed, vacant look in her eyes that means she won’t notice his setup before it’s too late. He is so sure of this that he doesn’t even bother staking out a place to scare her ahead of time. The moment she’s alone, that’s his chance.

So when all the pieces fall into place, Griss stumbles noisily out of the bushes, moaning, gripping his stomach, dribbling from his mouth the rest of the fresh blood he’d collected for the occasion. He can’t walk straight (he never walks straight) and stumbles over his own feet, which - staged or otherwise - lands him sprawled across the ground in front of the lavender-haired witch. The muffled groans into the grass don’t even sound like pleasure, and he thinks to himself that he probably deserves some sort of recognition for his acting, which nearly makes him break character. But he keeps it together, writhing like the pain is killing him, grasping for the witch’s robes with bloody fingers.

She doesn’t scream though. She doesn’t even run. Instead, she kneels down like she’s concerned. maybe she deserved the acting award

So he grabs for her wrists and drags himself closer, gurgling something unintelligible through the blood, deranged eyes more whites than iris.

Should she find a healer? What does she think? That gives Griss a new idea though, and clarity comes back to his bloodstained face in a blink. The writhing stops and he sits up and back onto his heels.

“Guess which ones are real first.” He holds out both forearms. Beneath the shredded sleeves, they’re coated nearly shoulder to wrist in gashes of all kinds and sizes. He grabs for one of her hands so she can’t run.

in truth, she feels deeper regret for having resorted to her transformation than most other things about the altercation.

events had moved quickly after that, and it had been impossible to tell just how many had seen her in her draconic form, and how many would remember it; rather than, with any luck, dismissing it as yet another absurd fantasy of the night, not to be trusted any more than the dust of fairy wings and serving mice at its conclusion.

shy movement in her periphery draws a sidelong glance — straightening with a sigh where she sits, nel recalls she'd been deposited at the side of another. something about a date, which does not concern her now. only that the girl is a stranger, a student aboveground, and a potential witness to something she would have rather kept to herself.

"how much did you see."

Soren stared blankly. He looked an awful lot like Sophia herself in that moment.

"That's not... no."

“Sophia...”

A name ill-practiced on the divine demon’s tongue. She, much like Roy, was a face Idunn came to recognize in those short months at the oasis. She knew Fae--even better than Idunn did--and has the distinct air of something... Similar. Not the same, but similar.

Whatever the case may be, she vanished from Idunn’s life much like the lion. Seeing her again at the school, the full-dragon nearly smiles. Her decision to leave has been reinforced.

“This word,” her finger rests on a passage of text in the hefty tome she carries, evidently something she’d been trying to study, “what does it mean?” The word is Dukedom, taken from an explanation of Fodlan’s history. Being from another land requires that Idunn learn of the one she resides in. Not that she minds, of course. She delights in coming to know the human world.

The rest she read with varying degrees of ease. But this one--this Dukedom--isn’t something the village elders or Fae could’ve possibly taught her about.

Setting the book down in front of the prophet so she could properly see, Idunn continues, feeling the growing need to explain herself, “I’ve seen you reading before. You must be very smart... So maybe you can help me understand.” All spoken in a matter-of-fact tone, robotic in lilt and mundane in pronunciation. 

But that’s okay. Facts and knowledge are becoming a part of her daily life, learning one of her favorite pastimes. As she fixes her position in her seat--the wood creaking in perfect harmony with the desk she leans on--Idunn daydreams about the human world. It has so many things. Few of them were of import to a drone, so many remain a mystery.

A bubbling sensation rises in her chest, now that Idunn’s focus has gently shifted across the classroom. Sophia’s answer will be one step closer to freedom, one vital bound toward the winged dream of her master. 

If she knows what a Dukedom is, perhaps she can learn to love it--perhaps she can bring it peace.

"...You look like...someone I know," Sophia mumbles, continuing to gaze at the oddly familiar stranger. "Do you...have brothers...?"

If not, then maybe...

"Huh? Oh wow, how did you know?" Wide eyes turn towards the lavender-haired girl in surprise as she approaches; while a stranger to Nino, the girl speaks as though she might recognize her. And her brothers, as well.

"Yup, I have two brothers," she replies, with a small smile that's only a little sad around the edges, "One's really mature and kind, and the other's rough, but he always means well..."

Though... she tries to think back as hard as she can, in her time with Black Fang and then her time with Eliwood and the others, but no one who looks anything like this girl comes to mind. Nino tilts her head towards the other with a sheepish look. "I don't remember seeing you before, sorry... But um, I'll do my best to remember! Can you tell me your name? I'm Nino, in case you didn't already know!"

+1 Riding Starter for @nabataprophet

Rusalka is an idyllic territory by the coast. It’s easy to see why anyone would be captivated by the sun, the sea breeze, and the high, rocky cliffs overlooking the shimmering ocean. The people in the port city seem friendly enough, but few seem to recall seeing any knights around lately. This is the biggest city in the area though, so someone is bound to come through at some point. With the shopping and the weather as good as it is, no time like the present to have a little vacation while you wait for leads then, right? Beach day! Maybe even try your hand at what the locals call “surfing.” [Grants Riding +1] 

Luke was already charging towards the beach, surfboard in hand, halfway through hearing the explanation about how to surf given by a local. Riding the waves? Doing cool, totally awesome tricks to impress people? Living the dream? He needed no more convincing than that.

The beach also gave him a welcomed excuse to get comfortable. The sun was warm on the sand and against his skin and he tossed his tunic off over his head, kicking off his boots and socks too. He grinned, shaking out his hair, feeling the soft sand underfoot.

Oh yeah. The Luke’s new natural habitat.

First of all, he had to give surfing a real try. He walked directly out to the waves, board in hand. As eager as he was to get out in the water... even he was smart enough to stay to the beginner’s area of the beach first. It turned out surfing involved a lot of watching the waves, paddling, and waiting for the perfect one in the perfect spot.

He did... alright.

When the wave came he jumped up on his board, ready to ride it. He nearly fell off immediately but managed to right himself with some arm flailing and a shout that was luckily drowned out by the rush of water. It was a smaller wave but hey, he didn’t die! Luke let it carry him, riding the wave with a triumphant holler despite nearly falling into the ocean at the start.

He scanned around the beach, wondering if there was anyone to flirt surf with. Feet back on the sandy shore, he approached the first person he saw, mind racing as he tried to remember where he’d seen her.

Starter for @nabataprophet

Rumor has it that life-giving fairies reside in a nearby forest. They say if you’re dexterous enough to catch one, she’ll stay with you and heal you even when you’re at death’s door. Investigate the forest and see if you can’t put these rumors to rest—or prove them true. [Grants Reason +1] 

Soren doubted the existence of fairies.

It didn’t stop him from stashing a jar in his bag, just in case.

Were fairies even sentient? He’d never much considered the ethics of calling on spirits for his own magic. In some cases, like with Pelleas, it seemed the spirit got the better deal. He had to wonder if a being would provide a miracle to a captor after being imprisoned for years, or would they go willingly? Perhaps the idea of having to capture one was merely a test to earn their companionship. Or maybe the whole thing was fake and the idea of earning a fairy only made the appeal stronger to those who sought to have some desperate power over their own mortality.

He tread lightly through the forest, sunlight waning fast. It made the most sense to seek luminous creatures by dim light, and his guard was high. Tome in one hand, he whirled around at the sound of footsteps near him, piercing eyes seeking movement in the underbrush.

Sophia would honestly be content to spend the entirety of the ball sitting in the sand and watching the waves. The crashing of the ocean's waves is much harsher than the soft lapping of the oasis' waters against the shore, but even that is exciting in its newness. Combined with the familiar feeling of sand cooling after a long day, a feeling so heartrendingly reminiscent of home, and Sophia would be fine staying here even long after the party is over.

She would be content, were it that for that familiar thrumming in her blood. That vague sense of something. So she wanders the beach until she finds the source: the new Black Eagles professor.

Seeing her up close, though, doesn't she look a little familiar...? Those red eyes in particular are reminiscent of someone else.

"...Um," Sophia starts, quickly trailing off into silence. Even after spending a few years outside, she's still not very good at starting conversations with strangers. "........."

Sliding a charm off of her bracelet, she holds out a turtle charm cupped in both hands.

"I... have never seen a turtle before, but... tortoises... live for a very long time, don't they...?"

A sentiment they can both sympathize with.