#romaritimes

✧ ˖ @romaritimes asked:

[ICE CREAM] Frozen custard and the baking rays of the sun were not a great combination, to say the least. Freminet certainly wasn't expecting to camp by the ice chests filled with tubs of the dessert, using his Cryo powers to give them a shock every so often so they'd stay at just the right temperature and texture - cold enough to stay frozen and refreshing, but not so much so that it hurt to eat. Appointing himself as guardian of the ice creams quickly led to the misunderstanding that he was the designated ice cream server, which he definitely was not... but he also wasn't going to deny the duty, was he? "O-Oh, um," he muttered as another patron approached him and the coolers. Not again. "There's vanilla, chocolate... Some kind of berry flavor..." He trailed off, tugging on the brim of his sun hat in an attempt to hide his quickly flushing face, gesturing vaguely to the boxes of sugar and waffle cones on the side as well, avoiding eye contact all the while.

Ego thrums thoughtful fingers along the little stand's counter, surveying her options with a merry hum. She offers the boy opposite her-- the attendant, evidently-- a smile, though she's not entirely sure he notices. Poor kid, probably stuck in some low paying summer job when he'd rather be out splashing in the water.

No matter.

"What's your favorite?" Songlike, a harmless question, but she does not wait for its answer. "I'll have whatever it is, kay? Oh! And one for you, too. On me~"

Quick and easy and utterly foolproof: she gets an answer without him having to say it to her, and she may just earn a smile back! And if not, well, at least she tried.

Freminet carefully ignites the tip of his incense stick upon another, and passes one to Father beside him. In silence, he observes the locals around him and follows suit, clasping his hands carefully so the incense is between his fingers, bowing his chin and closing his eyes.

The ghost of a familiar girl, smiling with bright coral hair curled at the ends flickers in his mind. His own mother's silhouette is hazy, but he hopes it's the thought that counts. Far be it for him to be a mind reader, especially when it came to Father, but he knew they both had at least some of the same lost loved ones in mind as they find a moment of solace, side-by-side in this foreign land.

lantern rite 2025.

the altar before them is tranquil, quiet; for something made to honor the dead and lost, in a serene temple outside of the bustling city. despite the presence of others inside, it still feels still enough that only the two of them are standing there.

blackened hand reaches out to take the stick offered toward her. for a moment, arlecchino wonders --- what must he be thinking of? executed family, perhaps --- in mother's reign, or in her's?... maybe souls that hadn't been saved when that was the aim. or perhaps even just the most recent, most painful loss, a loss relived too many times, and finally... settled.

marked eyes glance to the young man next to her. then, black fingers snap together at the tip of the incense stick, setting it alight; the stick is set in the altar before them after eyes turn away to look at it again. other souls still haunt and follow, but...

[[ probably his first smooch outside of family please don't make him melt into a freminet puddle /lh

Despite Father's requests, the House of Hearth and Chioriya's Boutique had become quite familiar. The children would visit for fixes to their clothing, and in exchange, information that could gain the seamstress favor in the ever-changing and demanding market. Despite differences, the season still seemed to soften even the most stubborn.

A stack of boxes towered before the Inazuman, heels carefully dancing over cobbled pathways until she stands before a door. Careful to shift the weight properly, the knob turns; a click, a bump of her hip, and the door swings wide in the waning hours of the night. While the older kids knew of this relatively new tradition, the younger of them still believed in some mythical gift-giver, providing new clothes and toys. While lacking in the latter, she more than made up for in garments.

A sigh, backing into the entry hall. Boxes are set down carefully. A sigh, shaking her head. Careful steps find the Knave with some of the younger girls and boys. Moving deftly through the halls, boxes would find themselves in what was now an empty room, seasonal decor draping from overhangs and off windows. Boxes wrapped are placed beneath and around the tree.

Of course, being subtle can only do so much...

Eyes watch the presents, but miss the boy by the door as she steps away. Back arching forward upon contact, a startled and terrifying gaze meets Freminet, only to relax upon realizing who it is. "Oh. You startled me. I was just finishing up, is there something..." her voice trails off, gazing finding a spare piece of mistletoe hanging above their heads. It appears the boy is more aware of it than she is.

Silence draws on, before Chiori approaches. Scared to death, afraid of some threat or that his first kiss may be his last. Lips twist, unsure of how to address him.

No words are needed.

(The gift along with a note are left at Sedene's post; despite all of their past bump-ins, it shouldn't come as a surprise that the lad is still intimidated by the Iudex.)

Monsieur Neuvillette,

I hope your birthday is prosperous and enjoyable; although I'm regrettably unable to deliver this in person, your gift and present three months back on my birthday brought light to my day, even if I may not have shown it. The shell timepiece is something I made with what the otters gave me after our previous expedition, combined with some parts I had lying around. I hope it serves to communicate my well-wishes despite the lack of my physical presence.

Sincerely, Freminet

After an obligatory safety inspection, the gift finds its way comfortably into Neuvillette's office. Customarily, his law-mandated birthday holiday (a phrase he knows humans who have heard it find really funny, but such is his life) is a day off for him; last year, he devoted himself to Fontaine's post-flood recovery even on this day, but today, he can indeed spend it without his nose stuck in paperwork.

... Granted, once the Melusines removed an all-day trip to Elynas from his schedule by visiting him at the Court, he is left with little else to do besides sitting in his office and watching, not without fondness, as his daughters take over the normally stiff and formal room, playing games, sitting on the floor in groups and drawing - thank goodness he had multiple piles of spare paper lying around - and putting colorful stickers on everything that is not an official document. They are cheerful and a little mischievous, but they know better than to cause him a headache by destroying something important.

Seeing the seashell as it is brought to him, the Iudex smiles. Quickly, he has a couple guesses for the sender, and when he reads the note, one of them is indeed proven correct. Once read, the letter is given to one of the Melusines, who will place it in one of personal cabinets, where he keeps some mementos from across the years and passing human generations; the seashell remains in his hands for further examination. Neuvillette recalls that Freminet was said to have a knack for tinkering with various devices, including the little penguin he usually has with him, but this is his first time seeing the young man's work up close. And indeed, he finds himself most impressed.

"A tarte aux fraises to pair with the tea I gifted for your birthday previously, Father. Though, I can't say I've tried Fontinian pastries with Liyuean tea... Perhaps I will pick up some pastries on my way back from my next assignment to share with the House, and we can see if they make a good pairing."

A note is left with the plush - he's a bit too intimidated to hand-deliver this one.

Dear Duke, although this tea is not consumable, I hope it makes a fine addition to your collection nonetheless. I once again thank you for your help and grace during my brief time at the Fortress. I hope we may cross paths under more positive circumstances in the future. - Freminet

Here in the depths of the sea was a world built of brass and iron, of scars and hardship-hardened bodies, of underwater gloom and even darker darkness, kept in motion by cogs both metal and flesh. It was a place of hard edges, guarded eyes, and bone-deep cold, where the stains on the walls outlived those that had left them and the sun was a long-forgotten myth. Greys and browns made its palette, flattened into a sepia gradient by dim, ancient lights. Anything that arrived soft was chiseled into angles sharp enough to cut.

The Head Nurse represented the sole resistance against the Fortress’ merciless wear, and she would try to undo that which had been done to the Duke: stickers on his clothing, colorful drawings pinned to the walls of his office, and sometimes hand-sewn plushes hidden where she knew he’d find them.

He thinks this one is one such prank, and crosses the floor to his desk with amusement chasing the day’s weariness from his face. He lifts the stuffed teapot and turns it this way and that, inspecting the handiwork, thinking to himself that this might be another of Sigewinne’s hints to watch his tea intake. But a note then slips out from under it and glides to the floor. Setting the toy back down, he kneels to pick it up.

The neat handwriting gives it away at once - this is not from Sigewinne - so his private smile changes to one of cautious curiosity. Eyes trace each line as he rises back to his feet, and by the end his expression has softened again into something rarely seen beyond the protection of his office.

He remembers Freminet, of course. He remembers how he and the other two kids from the House of the Hearth had learned firsthand how impenetrable the Fortress could be. But at the end of it all, Wriothesley had not been terribly disturbed from his routines, and the Fortress had not lost anything but a couple of workers who’d served their sentence. Seeing them off without a grudge had been the privilege of the victor, but it was maturity that had penned this boy’s truce.

So Wriothesley circles his desk to write a thank-you of his own:

A note is left with the plush - it seems he's too shy to deliver this one in person.

The bamboo plant symbolizes longevity and resilience because of its ability to grow anywhere. Luckily, you will not have to water or trim this one. I once again thank Madam Clorinde for your honorable strength, and hope this gift serves to bring auspiciousness to your future. - Freminet

"oh?" ... it's as much a greeting as an indicator of piqued curiosity -- freminet finding something that he thought would be of use to her doesn't come as a surprise, compared to something that was best to be shared ( as lynette had decided upon ) or something sentimental ( as lyney had offered ). perhaps it says something about these three children, understated and innate -- the way they give gifts on her birthday are all unique. as he implies something about the contents before she's opened it, arlecchino takes that as permission to open in front of him -- only confirmed by the slightest smile, slightly expectant. "let's see what's inside, then."