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♡
5/5 | ATTRACTION
5/5 | AFFECTION
5/5 | INTEREST
3/5 | LOYALTY
1/5 | TRUST
Phew phew hottie boombalottie!!! I mean uh you know like he's pretty cute or whatever. We like totally bonded and I totally thought he was like the ideal guy. Then all that grandma stuff happened. But like! He ended up being cool again right? And then he asked me to dance at the ball! I really like him though...
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♡
○○○○○ | ATTRACTION
●●○○○ | AFFECTION
●●●○○ | INTEREST
●○○○○ | LOYALTY
●●○○○ | TRUST
Still accepting!
"Berkut seems like quite the reliable ally, and I am most interested to get to know him more; our arm wrestling sessions have been most enjoyable. That being said..."
"Our last interaction has left me quite unsure, truth be told. It is not even how I had been underestimated by him, though that did not help much. Rather, his demeanour unnerved me; the thrill he seemed to derive from killing our foes. Though, I shall admit my mind may be making it out to be worse than had been; the events had been quite tough on me."
"Still, that is not nearly enough to sour me on him; it is not like I have the right to speak, considering how I am. Was. How I was."
Finally... after all this time his first victim has arrived. Seeing the student approaching the pond, he waits for the perfect time. A way to demonstrate true strength above all!
Finally, the time seem's about right. With a might warcry, Frogkut leaps straight from the pond itself! Water flying around it, heralding the oncoming attack.
A smirk seems to cross it's features, as it lands perfectly on it's target. Right on top of the orange head of hair, soaking it in the pond water. 'What's the matter, can't land a single blow?' Is perhaps what Frogkut tries to say. Instead a single croak is heard, before he leaps back off down into the pond...
rigelprinceofdespair asked: [ SEQUESTER ] - Some rooms remain unused, and while by the padlocks on their doors you suspect they are meant to remain that way, some poor sap seems to have forgotten to make sure they were locked properly. They make for an excellent space away from the chaos of the rest of the ball—though you may not be the first one there. Berkut still couldn't believe his outfit had got spilled on. Barely managing to find a spare room to begin trying to dry himself off, he lets out another muttered curse. At least he could still manage to get it dry in time for the White Heron cup. Once he finishes drying off he lets out a sigh. Taking a moment to close his eyes and lean against the wall. Thoughts still going through the events of the ball so far, the various pleasant and unpleasant encounters. Yet there is still one that can't quite leave his mind. Of familiar red eyes, and how he had ran like a craven from them. "How by every damned God that exists am I suppose to even begin to speak with her?"
Out of the corner of her eye, she'd caught sight of some sort of-- disagreement? Accident? Nel hadn't been close enough to make out any of the details, but Berkut's retreat had been swift enough. She didn't recognize the woman who had bumped into him, and perhaps she'd circle around to ensure that everything was alright; priorities are priorities, however, and the professor heaves a big sigh before stepping into the shadows in pursuit. He's not far, thankfully. Part of her debates on simply observing from a distance, confirming with her own yes, and then leaving. Another part says the opposite- to step up and to make herself known. Berkut's voice surprises her, and it takes a moment for Nel to realize that he's not speaking to anyone in particular. It's then that she steels herself, squares her shoulders, and steps into a brighter part of the hallway that the pitch black doesn't cover. She'd had the sense of mind to bring a towel, crimson eyes flickering down to the stain on his sleeve. "... Berkut. Is everything alright? I-- thought you may need one of these." Were her to turn and stomp away, she wouldn't chase. She wouldn't blame him-- to humans, she supposes a fell dragon is only safe when quartered and chained; something that Nel is not and never will be. @rigelprinceofdespair
@rigelprinceofdespair sent: [ REVIEW AND REVISE ] - The White Heron cup is mere hours away, but that still leaves plenty of time to reconsider your approach. Ask a friend for a second opinion, or drag a passerby into an impromptu rehearsal.
"turn for me?"
it's less of a question and more of an order. her index finger points at him commandingly, then flutters in a small circle to demonstrate—lest there's room for misinterpretation. "the judges will be paying attention to the smallest detail, like the slightest wrinkle in your mantle. it sounds silly, but that's the performing arts for you. the public demands perfection."
doesn't she know it. miles from mittelfrank's grand stage, and still it remains a lesson closely guarded to her heart. this is the way of the world: whether in song or dance, or in greetings and introductions, strangers will find ways to turn on someone unassuming. the most insignificant stumble turns damning, and the most minor blip proves enough to mar one's reputation for the rest of their life.
once satisfied with the presentation before her, dorothea dips her head approvingly. "all's in order. just try not to muss anything up until then, okay?"
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[ CORN ] & [ GOSSIP ] The moment he finally spots her, Berkut quickly runs over. Already having this new snack in hand, he had applied just some salt and butter. Of course as he approaches he gives a respectful nod.
"Professor, delightful to see you of course, but have you seen what's happening over there?" Pointing with one hand, he gestures towards a certain fight taking place, staring some random woman, and a certain two-tone haired girl. "I must say, this is far more entertaining than I thought. Care to have a snack as we watch?" Berkut lifts the small bag of popped corn, helping himself even as he watches.
She takes one, if only out of curiosity. It's... hm.
Hm. There's a subtle crisp to it that's not entirely unpleasant, but it also manages to be... airy? It's difficult to describe, but she's fond enough of the flavor profile to take another. (So, for the third time: hm. Of the dishes she's tried so far since arriving in Fódlan, she thinks she's rather fond of this one.)
"They're just two untrained cats scratching at each other. I wouldn't exactly consider this entertaining."
So she says, but she's been watching the whole while, which must count for something. When Baldr looks to gain the upper hand, she even manages a small, amused smile—until the tables turn, and the smile drops into a look of mild annoyance.
The whole affair is terribly messy and embarrassingly childish, but she doesn't expect anything less. One woman had made an utter fool out of herself during that event with the dreadful illusions in the arena; the other is the vaunted Divine Dragon, hero and savior of her land—and she is currently rolling around in a mess of flower petals, painting herself a fool.
"But I suppose it was a long time coming. I did happen to overhear that this all occurred because the Divine Dragon wished to court both her date and Baldr at the same time, but was summarily rejected."
Granted, it was simply one passing student's guess, but it's not like she's exactly wrong in saying that's what she heard, right?
Now, this was a weakling if he had ever seen one. Already nervous, as is proper entering the domain of one as magnificent and powerful as himself.
Perhaps she seeks some kind of blessing, or a deal to be struck to get stronger. Surely it is needed in this case.
Well... she could be of some use to his plans. So he shall make his presence known. With a single hop, Frogkut jumps and lands atop her head. Sitting there, waiting of course for the appropriate supplication to his strength.
he's powerful. too powerful. and for some odd reason...
why does she get the most bizarre, visceral sense of incompatibility with him???
Another dared to enter his domain. Frogkut stared down imperiously at the girl. How dare she not bring proper tribute for his strength. Glaring down up at her from the pond, he ponders how to punish such an error.
Finally he reaches a decision. Leaping up from the pond, landing right in her lap. Then standing back, he flicks out his tongue, striking right against her cheek.
A laugh (croaking) escapes him. The only thing a frog can rely on is his own strength!
With a gap between her classes, Maria had taken to the courtyard for some rest. Today especially, the animals seem to be full of personality! Her eyes are drawn to the little frog imperiously hopping around the pond.
“Oh!” Had he taken offense to her attention? How bold of him to jump straight into her lap! And, hearing his tiny, valiant squeak, she cannot help but laugh along with him.
“You’re so brave!” As gently as she can, she lifts him up, that he might look upon his glorious, froggy kingdom. “Are you upset with me? Hee hee… I’m sorry! I’ll make it up to you, then! Should I bring you a treat, Your Majesty?”
