#pastbelow

"oh, good evening, azama." shigure greets as he passes by the man, sparing an admiring glance at his full hoshidan garb. "has jakob found you yet? he's taken to handing out mint candies..." here, a frown, "as some kind of insult, I think."

what he expects azama to do with that information, shigure isn't quite sure, either. smiling wryly, he holds out one of his tulips. "just thought i'd let you know."

"Good evening, Shigure." It's an easy smile he levels at the youth - if he's surprised at being greeted so, Azama doesn't show it. But... it is kind of nice, isn't it?

Imagine the world if Azama didn't make a game of antagonizing people. . .

Ha ha ha.

"Oh? Is that so..." Of course, there's no way anything delivered from that demonic butler's hand or mouth are come as a compliment, unless your name begins with a C and ends with an N. Hand comes to rest on chin, brow quirking in a pensive mien.

Warm smile meets wry, and he hands over one of his own tulips in exchange with a nod. Eyes crinkle with mirth - the natural emotion one feels when scheming, purportedly.

"don't do it, shiro," shigure finds himself saying, a tinge of warning in his voice.

it's probably no use. they're already at the edge of the lake, the surface of the water gleaming with the sparkle of …something… beneath the surface. if he were inclined to tell it as a story, he might say, the mysteries of the meteor lie beneath the waves, for those who dare to seek it—but, really, you can't even see the floor of the lake in the darkness! why do his friends always insist on jumping into bottomless pits?

unfortunately, sneaking a peek at the hoshidan prince beside him only confirms his suspicions. shigure sighs, not quite able to hide the twitch of a smile. "fine, I'll watch your stuff, and I'll fish you out if something goes wrong, I guess. just be careful, okay?"

toastarlight2026 — finale prompts | no longer accepting

yeah, it's of no use. the warning falls on deaf ears as shiro works to strip off his outer layers, eyes already locked onto the water's surface.

"come on, don't be such a sourpuss. i've totally got this under control!"

sure, he's never swum in this particular lake before, and never at night, but he figures it can't be all that different from the times he went swimming in his deeprealm. technique is all the same at the end of the day—whether it boils down to breath-holding or propulsion.

"besides, something like this doesn't happen every day. think of what we could do with these meteor pieces!" he hasn't a damn clue. "there's gotta be—i dunno—something special about them. plus, we'll have something to show the others."

( the prince has not yet learned his lesson. the last time something magical happened to him, he turned into a frog. )

nevertheless, shiro sneaks one last look at shigure. who knows if the other catches the hint of his own smile—foolhardy as it may be—but there is a touch of fondness to it. reassurance as well, in knowing that an old friend still has his back.

"i'll be back with a piece before you know it." he puffs out his chest. "if you really want, you can even paint me holding it! how's that for a deal?"

grinning, shiro makes his way to the edge of the lake. sure enough, he starts wading in, pausing only when a sudden sensation makes him halt. "AHH! COLD! COLD!"

they say fortune favors the bold. of the people that had known shigure at one time or another, few would have described him as bold, and even fewer still as fortunate. perhaps that's why the lottery had never really called to him, even as it put excited grins on his friends' faces.

but it's really quite difficult to wallow in self-pity among a crowd of cheerful greetings and boisterous laughs; it's far easier, instead, to give in to the tinkling of spare change in his pockets and wander over to the strange little capsule machine, in search of a trinket to remember this day by.

the woman he finds there is as familiar to him in memories as she is in visions and dreams. his stare, thankfully half obscured by his hair, lingers for a beat too long. how long, truly, had it been since he has met those eyes? had she been more favored by fortune in her realm than his---maybe even enough to be attending the festival with someone cherished?

he hopes so, though he's not sure if the challenger of fate would accept the notion of fortune at all.

"ah, it's you!" a delighted smile settles on his face just in time, easy as breathing. his gaze falls to the array of colorful orbs spinning merrily behind the glass. "i have a good feeling about this. don't you, corrin?"

"hey," shigure greets, admiring his friend's outfit with a smile. the prince is dressed as sharply as one might expect, and it suits him, shigure decides: the way the fabric settles about him like a mantle, like the responsibility he doesn't yet know he's ready to bear.

a ball is not the time for that, though, so the artist merely holds out a tulip instead. "I think we're meant to trade these? I suppose it would make a better bouquet than just one kind of flower…"

but there's one more reason he's chosen to accost his friend now. turning his gaze to the ballroom floor, he can only raise a teasing eyebrow at the distance, or lack thereof, between the dancers in each pair. "are you ready to dance like… that, siegbert?" shigure feels his smile widen, just a little. "we can practice, if you want. so you don't lose your cool out there."

"Oh—hello, Shigure. What impeccable timing; I was actually just thinking of seeking you out to exchange the flowers myself." He accepts the tulip and pauses, looking down at his bouquet with a critical eye. He admittedly doesn't have a great sense for these things; flower arrangement wasn't ever thought to be a required skill for Nohr's heir apparent, and he'd spent much of his time either at his desk or in the training grounds within the Deeprealms to care overmuch about the gardens.

"Here." When he finally finds one that looks good enough, he picks it out and offers it to Shigure. Unsurprisingly, it suits him. Where the roses had felt a little loud in Siegbert's hands, they look elegant in Shigure's. It almost makes him wonder if they ought to have swapped bouquets, but the tulips are a good look on him, too.

...Which is to say, maybe Shigure simply looks good with any and all flowers.

When he looks up, his eyes move from one familiar face to a sea of unfamiliar ones—and he has to clear his throat, because he can already feel the jumble of sound gathering on his tongue, none of which is a coherent sentence.

"I've practiced aplenty before the event," he says, sounding more like an admission than anything defensive. "...But."

But. There will always be a but. He sets his bouquet down and turns back to his companion, and though his posture might be a little rigid, offering Shigure a hand, palm facing up, feels like the most natural thing in the world.

hesitating for only a brief moment, his sketchbook is flipped to the latest page, a collage of dancers in motion. all the pairs are wearing l'arachel and forde's brightly patterned outfits, though only the first few also bear her exuberant smile and his dashing low ponytail. the rest are nearly featureless except for the joy clear in their pose, in the way their hips shake and their fists punch into the air — as if the artist knew it was not l'arachel he truly wanted to portray.

( there is also a scribbled side profile in the bottom corner, hidden by his hand. a boy with shigure's hair, but not his face. )

he sighs, tapping his fingers against the paper. "I am sorry the judges didn't understand. but I think I might, after you explained your outfit to me. you honored your friends with all your heart," he says sincerely, hand stilling. "so much so that even I, a mere artist who has never seen that world, can begin to know it, just a little."

it is another he will hold in memory, in his own unremarkable way. at last, he finds a smile — not as bright as hers was earlier tonight, but suffused with warmth nevertheless.

"even though tonight ended badly… I hope, eventually, you can remember it fondly still."

Yet again she finds herself approached after the absolutely abysmal showing that she put on in front of the entire academy. She dreads the thought of just how many people have seen her moment of weakness.

Shigure being one of them feels like the entire world conspiring to play a joke on her. Their first meeting, they were both putting on fake, ridiculous personalities for some trifling amusement.

Now, at the ball, at this place where L’Arachel was supposed to prove herself and how brilliant she was, he instead got to see the absolute worst part of herself; a childish temper tantrum that ruined the fun and a heart exposed way, way too far.

She wishes she could simply avert her gaze, shut her eyes, or otherwise ignore him, but pushing people away would only make things worse. Who is she, really, to try and push people away? She has always wanted to be in the spotlight, has she not? She has made her proverbial bed, now it is time to lay in it.

She lets herself look at whatever it is Shigure wishes to show her, unsure of what to expect from the book he is holding. Perhaps a review of her performance that amounts to the same thing as the judges said, but in a way that tries to placate her? As if she did not know they spoke the truth, much as she hated it…

Finally, he stops on a page, and L’Arachel feels her breath taken away as she gazes upon its contents. A scene of joyous dance, happy and with a lack of judgement. Between the positive energy, and the bold, confident, brilliant poses, she is reminded of things like the moving pictures she had seen at her home, the dancing game she had played occasionally in the arcade, or even just seeing others goof around as she explored the city.

Even the dancers' lack of features, whilst surely meant to ease Shigure’s workload, ends up reminding her of how everyone else looked in that world.

She pulls back; not because she no longer wishes to stare at that beautiful scene. She merely does not wish to stain it with any tears that threaten to spill out, both due to the drawing, and his magnificently kind words.

"Shigure... I find myself at a loss for words. And that is quite a rarity indeed." She exhales in the smallest of laughters. "You captured everything so beautifully. For a moment, I truly felt like I was back in that gorgeous world, with no troubles or worries in sight." A small smile makes her way onto her face; a melancholy one, but a smile nonetheless.

"I... I hope I shall be able to remember this night fondly too." Her words come off as shaky, and there is a part of her that feels that will simply not happen, even if logically, she knows it will.

"Regardless of if that happens or not, however, the one thing I most certainly shall remember is the kindness you have shown me, Shigure." She falls silent for a moment, before a small chuckle escapes her lips. "I cannot help but think back to when we first met; you having joked about possibly being a very mean person in reality. That could not have been further from the truth, could it?" She lets out another small laugh, before a small, earnest smile forms on her face.

understandably to shigure, the area beneath the spotlight is unoccupied most of the time. most ballgoers, no matter how well-dressed, do not need that kind of unscrupulous attention focused upon them, lest critics gather like moths to a flame.

imagine his surprise, then, when a familiar figure walks directly into the beam of light with complete and utter confidence.

familiar, yes. and yet she is wearing… she is wearing…

...

... by the first dragons, it's impossible to look away from.

"… lady l'arachel?" he manages, mildly strangled until he coughs it out of his system. when had he made his way here? who had told his feet to take the steps? "um, good evening, I mean. I suppose I was just curious, what…" how to say this, "what made you decide on this outfit?"

good enough. shigure smiles, hoping it's not as strained as it feels. "it's just so different from what you were wearing, last time we met."

L'Arachel gets interrupted out from her brilliant poses and dance moves by a familiar face! She happily pauses to give a wave to her friend; it is nice to see him out and about somewhere that is not Ewan's event. It shall most likely not offer a full glimpse of how he is ordinarily, of course, but it is still nice to see.

"It is quite different, is it not? Thank goodness, I could not imagine how inconvenient it would have to be dancing in a chestplate. No, the outfit you saw me in last was fully, completely a facade." She laughs quite heartily.

"There are two main things that made me decide on this outfit, my dear friend! First off, it is quite the dazzling thing, is it not? I knew if I was wearing this, I would be the centre of attention, astounding everyone with how marvelous and glamorous I look!" She strikes quite a confident looking pose, though she drops it quickly, as her expression forms into something much more melancholy.

"Secondly..." She moves them out of the spotlight for a moment; this feels too important, too private to be divulged for any random person to witness. "I wanted to honor some... friends, who could not be here. I met them in their world, a quite fantastical, bizarre place. They no longer exist, nor does their world. I once went to what would be their equivalent to the Ethereal Ball, and although it ended badly, I do remember it fondly still." She shakes her head slightly. It is still hard to detangle the festival from the perill Katarina was in, but she tries her best.

"This outfit is a replica of one I had particularly liked wearing in that world. Wearing it makes me feel like that place lives on, in a way." She smiles sadly, before taking a deep breath and once again giving Shigure a bright, confident smile.

"Which is why I am making sure this is the grandest, most amazing Ethereal Ball!" She lets out a boisterous laugh, taking one of her flowers and putting it into Shigure's bouquet. "Now your bouquet shall be that much more magnificent than before." She beams at him.

Sweet Love - No Longer Accepting

Deimne’s favourite food would be something homely, something he could make easily without needing any fancy ingredients or recipes. Given how he learnt to weild a bow and arrow, he was likely a hunter, so game and red meats made up a lot of his diet. I think he would like stew a lot, it’s hearty and warming, and for a lot of people nostalgic. Plus it’s simple - a lot of Deimne’s character revolves around the simplicity of home and the longing for it.

As for least favourites, it’s harder to say. Deimne generally dislikes stepping out of his comfort zone, so he’s more comfortable eating what he knows and likes. However, he does dislike being seen as weaker than what he is, as a conversation with Corinne proves. Thus, I don’t believe he’s like to eat foods that he views as less traditionally masculine, notable overly sweet foods. Growing up in a city I do believe he has at least tried sweeter foods, but he avoids them as an adult. He’ll still accept and eat them, but he’s not as willing to do so in public. It’s the public perception and the irrational fears that sour it for him.

That, and I don’t think he’d like overly sweet things in general. Too sickly.

As exciting as it had been to watch his spirited friend sling spell after spell with her usual flair, in what she would surely call a fated duel with her liege, it had also been difficult to watch... and difficult to look away from. But nothing that can't be undone, he reminds himself. The healers here must be highly skilled, as now, Ophelia really looks no worse for wear.

He hums as he scans the battlefield below them, sharp eyes accustomed to picking out familiar figures from high above. "He's found a new tome, though. It seems to conjure a rapidly spreading fire." A smile as he peers at Ophelia from beneath his bangs. "Any ideas for what to call it?"

“Good tidings to you, too, Shigure!” Ophelia greets happily, as though she hadn’t been just wrung like a cloth over Forrest’s dark magic.

She’s more than happy to sit and watch the proceeding battle now that she’s been given permission (read: the clerics are no longer chasing her down and forcing her back into treatment), and company is all the sweeter as it takes the form of a familiar face.