#rigelprinceofdespair

5/5 | ATTRACTION

5/5 | AFFECTION

5/5 | INTEREST

3/5 | LOYALTY

1/5 | TRUST

○○○○○ | 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."

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...

"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."

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.

Perhaps it is better to get this over with now. Reluctantly acknowledge his presence, then hope the boat makes it to Jugdral sooner rather than later. Maybe a brief conversation will be enough to avoid behind hounded later.

"You." Berkut clenches his fist once, taking a deep breath to calm himself even as he gets Alm's attention. "I should have expected to encounter you on this trip. Newly arrived to the academy yet so quickly throwing yourself into one of their excursions."

Berkut let's out a sigh, still scowling. "Having been on a trip like this before, a word of advice. Be careful about what instructions the church gives you. We were sent to kill a prisoner, but our target ended up being an object the prisoner had and killing the man wasn't needed. Not to mention from what I've heard there is always a high risk of death on these things, I should know..." With that, he turns away, starting to walk off. However he pauses once to look back. Bitterness lacing his tone. "Try and keep yourself safe. After all, you still have a kingdom to attempt to rule."

Considering how poorly their reunion had gone, Alm tries his best to temper his expectations and rethink his approach. Berkut is here—has been here—while their homeland thought him dead. The Rigelian throne sits empty and abandoned, least of all because there is no longer any Rigel, the same as how there is no longer any Zofia. And while it's for the good of the land and its people, Alm also has had plenty of time to think and understand why that might feel like a hollow victory to Berkut, if one at all.

There are things that a king wants to do, and things that he must do. (And, by extension: things a boy had been raised to become, and things a man could never be.) It can't be easy to swallow.

Yet for all his concerns, it's Berkut that actually approaches him first, well before Alm can properly formulate how to approach again. And in doing so, as silly as it sounds, Berkut... looks remarkably human. He brows knit together with displeasure. His lips twist together into a scowl. He can't even bring himself to say Alm's name—but in the same breath, he's gentle, too. Caring. Kind, in a way that must be wholly and purely Berkut rather than the demands of his forever-absent crown.

This is the kind of man his cousin is. Alm can't help the smile that grows to counter Berkut's frown, and hopes that one day, the kingdom that Berkut worries over will once again be called his home.

"...I'll keep that in mind," Alm replies, kicking the words off his tongue before Berkut can leave again. "But there's only so much I can watch out for when I have such limited experience. So... I'd love to hear a little more and learn, if you're willing to share."

Berkut couldn't stop the memory from lingering in his mind. It seemed like such a short time ago, even if had been at least a couple years since they had taken that pleasant excursion. Without thinking his hand turned into a fist, nails digging into his skin.

As always, he was a fool.

Still he couldn't help it. He had spotted her boarding, and he was too weak to resist this temptation. Just to check, to see if this boat trip was all she could want it to be. It was unfair, doing this, but he had to just... see.

It was only natural he found her on the deck itself. It nearly made him freeze, reconsider this action at all. Yet still he pressed on, giving her a quick nod in greeting.

"Ah Rinea. Good to see you again. Though perhaps I should be careful, after what happened last time, you may capture a seagull and insist I hold onto it." The smile is easy, as it use to be, before memories of what had happened crash into him, screams in his head as the smile fades.

"How are you doing? Of course I know it's not your first time on a ship since we both came to Fodlan from Valentia, but it still must be quite the experience. I hope it is as enjoyable as you- an enjoyable experience being aboard a vessel like this." He forces a smile on his face, hoping his near slip-up wasn't caught.

To be returned to the waves after such a brief time on land is equal parts exciting and bittersweet, no matter how temporary the voyage. The salty breeze morphs into a comfort, and so does the hustle and bustle of sailors pushing past her and other students. She side-steps out of the way when possible, and when not, the roughness of the movement is not unwelcome. 

The peaks of human experience are waiting to happen on crested waves. After the voyage, there is a vast uncertainty that she will postpone tackling until the boarding plank hits dirt and so do her feet. 

Memories that remained firmly locked under rust and chains rattled in their cage when word of the expedition was passed around. They refused to reveal their nature — disrespectful, one would say, to grip her without explanation and possess her to sign up for the unknown when she is yet in the process of learning. 

Unavoidable. Intrinsic. Rotting. Flowering. Despicable. Joyous. The thirst for the sea never ends, not when the salt demands more.

And then… and then there is Berkut. His voice harmonizes with the calm waves, and his presence does nothing to stay her excitement. She curtsies to return the greeting and says nothing of his slip of the tongue. The building blocks of their friendship can only be solidified by such evidence. Seeking out her presence, holding fondness for her, Rinea holds concern at times that she is not reciprocating with the proper gravitas. 

“A good day to you, lord Berkut,” Rinea is quick to smile, a reflexive attempt to ease both their underlying mysteries and pains. “Seagulls will not follow this far into the sea. Speaking of seagulls, did you know that…”

He is, after all, trapped on a ship with her. Some bird factoids to wade through the early morning and a walk on deck can only do wonders for them both. They will be going their separate ways once on land. This new memory will be but a small patch of her new tapestry.