#obsidiendo

His eyes aren't cold. He looks upon Selena with love, affection, understanding -- but never anger or hatred. No, the general would never feel that way about her no matter what sides of the battlefield they found themselves on.

And still: he raises his lance, because she is now his enemy. He hates that. He hates this. But he will never hate her.

"You deserve better than to fight for the shadow of our king," he says. "You deserve better than whatever this is."

for you i would (still accepting)

Her eyes are steel.

To another, it may be seen as betrayal, that her gaze could be so harsh knowing all the years that had passed—serving side by side, growing as friends and allies. A glance would say that all was forgotten in the face of what the Fluorspar must do.

But Duessel would know—that is merely a matter of course. To do what is difficult (what is necessary) despite the weight of the world: Fluorspar grows cold, sharp, becoming the emperor’s will. It is easier to do so withdrawn than to live fully and completely in the moment—and chance succumbing to her own grief.

“…Perhaps.” (She says it as a ‘maybe,’ but Duessel is never wrong.) It was entirely likely that she was making the wrong choice—that, in lacking his wisdom, she could not see what else could possibly await her.

All the same, there is lightning.

“Perhaps.”

It sparks at her fingertips, wild and untamed and mourning. (Whatever remained of them, there could only be another grave.)

It is not a matter of deserving. (Selena did not do this for herself.) Oaths are binding, lasting forever and beyond death—such was knighthood. Even if she desired to cast it away (just as Duessel had managed to do), it was not her own will that was to be exacted; she was here by the emperor’s orders.

Steel becomes less harsh, weathered away, if just slightly.

“But all the same, the path before me is clear.”

Unaware of his fashion error, he finds Knoll quickly after they've been assigned teams. He doesn't know how he feels about 'snakes' and 'rats' -- the two teams they've been sorted into -- but surely there's no deeper meaning to this.

He smiles, just a little, as he sees him huddled up in many layers. It makes sense, and perhaps it is more sun safe than all the sunblock he's put on himself, but he cannot help but smile at how very Knoll that is.

His hand comes to rest on his shoulder. An easy gesture, one that he is slowly becoming used to. "Have you found your teammates?" he asks, then slides his hand down between his shoulder blades. "And are you doing all right? It's very sunny."

knoll knows just enough of what to wear and not to wear that the general's outfit draws a smile from him.

the colors clash, but the view of the older man's chest and stomach is not something he would ever complain about. he tries not to make it obvious that he's looking, per se, but the general is... well, he is very handsome, and knoll is only human.

the smile that forms on his face is soft, though, and genuine besides. he himself is wearing as many ( breathable ) layers as he can without overheating, complete with a floppy hat to keep the sun off his face, but he worries he will still end up with a burn.

"i have... spoken with some of them, yes. they all seem—" wonderfully peculiar, "—very nice."

talk of the sun agitates him, however, as if reminding him that the wretched thing is there.

Duessel wakes up early. It's a holdover from his time in the Grado army, when he was in charge of discipline and security for men who might otherwise not have had such a thing. It's also a holdover from his childhood, when he would wake to spend time with his mother and help her prepare for the day.

It matters little where the habit solidified, what matters is that he wakes now before the sun rises in the morning. Knoll still sleeps, his hair a purple streak across Duessel's white pillows. He smiles, takes in the sight for a moment longer.

He cannot help himself. He looks so rested, curled up in the blankets, and Duessel's lips find themselves pressed to his temple.

He kisses once, then another to his nose, and then finally his lips.

"Sleep," he whispers. His own voice is rumbling, solid and deep. It takes a lot to keep it soft, yet he does. "I'll be back in about an hour with breakfast and your books from the library."

kisses | accepting.

knoll is not, by nature, an early riser. though he is the sort to view sleep as something closer to an inconvenience that catches up with him when he cannot stave it off any longer than a habit that needs development and cultivation.

still, sometimes it does, and sometimes he finds himself drifting off. he lets general duessel drag him off to bed then and only then.

just as he is slow to actually sleep, so too is he slow to wake. when his eyes flutter open, however, he is pleasantly surprised to find that the press of beard against his face was not a dream. he does not wish to rise yet, exhaustion in his bones, but neither does he wish to waste more time on something as mundane as sleep.

the general's command wins out, however, and his eyes shut despite his best efforts.

She still is that to him, a general; someone he admires and cares for -- no matter what the past is, there is a chance to look to the future. Duessel lives in the past all too often, sinks deep into it and feels it press on all sides. Suffocating, sometimes. Comforting, other times.

But for General Fluorspar, for his friend, he will look forward. Tonight, he will celebrate her life.

"You look beautiful," he says, and offers his arm. "I would like to spend some of this evening together, if you would like. I haven't seen you much lately. How are you faring?"

It is only a matter of time before she finds him—or perhaps, it is better said that he finds her. Old friends from older times, a past that may one day be nothing more than sand on the shore; they cross paths time and again, and they share once more the same side of history. Just as sorrow is remembered, so too is the joy that precedes it. Selena is glad to call Duessel her friend.

“Thank you,” the general replies, accepting his arm. “You look excellent as well.” A moment passes before she continues: “It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

(It is quite easy for the days to pass, speaking little and primarily in briefs.) A part of Selena thinks she ought to spare herself more free time, time to allow herself to spend in the company of her friends. (Another part thinks that if she works hard enough, that time will come as a byproduct naturally.)

“I’ve been doing well,” she answers, musing over the time spent. Much of it was at the monastery teaching—“It was a bit of a new experience, becoming a full-time teacher, but despite the workload, it feels… quite fulfilling.” (It is a feeling she had forgotten, then picked up bit by bit; it was not fully restored until after the mock battle, however.)

He moves closer, and that's when he realizes it's his brooch. He looks down at it, raises his eyebrows, and then taps the blond man on the shoulder.

"Excuse me," he begins. "I don't mean to interrupt. It appears your companion is interested in my crystal." That sounds strange to say, but he's seen how the little bird's head tracks its movements. "Might we exchange? We have the same brooch, but I need to collect one of each as well."

Andrei had long given up on keeping close track of everything Cranberry found exciting tonight — while normally not a difficult endeavor, there are simply too many new things for the young pigeon to experience in this ballroom, and his squeals and hops are almost continuous. As long as he does not leave the safety of Andrei's shoulders, Cranberry is free to take in the sights of his own accord.

As such, it's not until there is a tap upon his shoulder that Andrei turns to find himself faced with a taller, older man, a teardrop crystal gleaming against his brooch. Cranberry makes to hop across the distance between the two, but Andrei moves back with a soft noise of warning.

Leif is one matter, but he is not certain random strangers would appreciate having a bird hopping freely about them.

"Ah... yes," he says, looking down at the young pigeon who continues to have his gaze fixed upon the other's crystal, "He seems to have developed quite a liking for these." And surprisingly so — he had never seen a pigeon attracted to shiny objects quite like this before, but if it is what makes Cranberry happy, and within his power, then Andrei will attempt to fulfill his wishes.

He does not wish to make a fool of himself again. He comes up to her and bows for a greeting. "Good evening, milady. I don't believe we have met, but I know another with wings as lovely as yours who you might know. Are you acquainted with Reyson of Serenes?"

The man greets her so politely, and Leanne giggles as she returns a curtsy the way she'd seen beorc ladies do, before nodding at the mention of Reyson.

"Yes, Reyson is my..." Oh, how did beorc put it... "Elder brother!" While she isn't quite sure about their history — it being a topic Father is, understandably, not yet ready to discuss in depth — she is fairly certain that she and her immediate family are the last of the white-winged herons remaining, after the fire. With her and her siblings all in Fódlan, these foreign beorc are getting to see a rare sight!

meow meow meow meow!!

( he does think, too, how strange it is to exclude the deer in name. what a terrible omen to call it only eagle & lion ; this must be undone. they will do well, and they will be proud of their efforts. of this he is sure. )

"Knoll." He approaches his friend with food in a small container. He's sure he hasn't had lunch yet. "Are you signing up for the tournament? If you have not completed signups just yet, I was going to ask if you might be interested in joining my house. They could use a capable magic wielder on their side."

knoll brushes aside the food, too focused on what he's doing, namely: hand-copying pages from a set of encyclopaedia, relevant parts related to his research, so he could keep the notes aside rather than hog the large volumes and possibly prevent students from accessing them.

it's the sort of work that's a bit like drudgery, but knoll never complains. in fact, there's some warm comfort in a little drudgery. still, it's dull enough that he can do it mindlessly while duessel speaks, listening intently even as his left hand moves to copy the words and his right slides across the page of the book.

"your house, hm? you're taking well to teaching, i've noticed. though... you've instructed others before, even if on a much smaller scale. perhaps this is a natural fit for you, then." he's glad, that general duessel is enjoying his work. finding fulfillment. he smiles, just a little.