#s:katarina

@ephemeralove

It’s your turn on cooking duty, and you know exactly what you want to make: delicious pizzas! The kitchens are well stocked today; *too* well-stocked, in fact, because there are way too many choices for toppings, with everything you can imagine from meat to veggies to more unorthodox choices like chocolate or mapo tofu. Will you and your cooking partner come up with a brilliant new recipe, or spend the entire time arguing over whether or not that pineapple belongs on the pizza? [Grants Authority +1]

The kitchen smells delicious already, wood fire ovens burning brightly and the scent of garlic wafting through the air. Supervising cooking duty really was quite a treat after all. The students had already separated into pairs and whilst some had picked up some... questionable toppings, no fights had broken out. So far so good.

Except, it wasn’t quite going to plan. Elincia spots Katarina, quiet and delicate as a shade, rolling out dough alone without a word. Which seemed entirely unfair, to expect one woman to do the work of two people.

“Excuse me, Katarina? Would you like a hand?” Elincia asks the younger woman, a bowl of mushrooms and peppers in hand. Sensible, easy toppings that most people could enjoy. It appeared a few heated debates had started about adding pineapple, although that seemed far less offensive than sprinkling the pizzas with gummy worms. "I’m quite adept at cooking and this was supposed to be a two person job.”

“Ah, unless you’d prefer to work alone? I’d hate to be a bother.”

Would Ares actually wear the props she'd picked out? Katarina wasn't quite sure, but as she rifled through the small assortment of various colors of cat eared headbands, a faint smile sprung to her face. In one hand she held a pair of black cat ears; in the other, a much more notably golden one. Not unlike the stuffed animals they'd won back then...

"What do you think about these?" The headband fits snugly on her head, and though she feels distinctly silly wearing it, silly is... nice. Compared to the other memories they share, precious as they are, it's moments like these that she enjoys most.

"We match," Katarina says, this time more quietly as she hopefully hands him the other pair. The alleycat and the lionheart; the black cat and the knight who wears black. It's warm, having friends, and she laughs softly beneath her friends. She likes it.

"We do indeed," Ares replies softly, trying to adjust the band on his head so it sits comfortably. It’s a little small for him and he eventually gives up trying. He only needs to wear it long enough for a photo. “It’s a little tight but they’re cute. I think they suit you far more than they do I.”

Katarina’s smile is like the first snowfall of the year, delicate and lovely. He returns it with one of his own, likely more jagged, but a smile nonetheless. The pair of them look ridiculous, there is no denying that. Had he been alone, he would throw these ears to the ground in an instant. Being silly is something he doesn’t really mind when he’s with her though. It’s... a feeling of friendship and camaraderie that he’s had precious little of in life so far. Something to cherish, even if it’s at the expense of his dignity.

“Let’s get these photos done quickly though, the headband is a little uncomfortable.” The sit together in the booth, facing the lens. Tentatively, he brings his hands to his face, curled into ‘paws’.

Ares does not think twice about rushing to Katarina's defence. Of everyone he’s met at Garreg Mach, she’s the one person he trusts above all else. The only one he would be willing to leave his life’s mission to, should the jaws of death come back to claim him a second time.

Thankfully, that doesn’t come close to happening. A single deft stroke parries their foes blade. A few more precise movements and the battle is already over.

He stands there with his chest heaving. Despite all his bluster, taking life never really got any easier. Ares clings to the fact they were the ones under attack. That Katarina’s safety is far more important to him than the life that leaves the young man’s eyes.

--shit, he was way too young to be sent to die like that.

It was unlike him to attend parties. Ares had misgivings about this gathering before he had even arrived. As heir to Agustria though, events like these were something he’d have to become acquainted with, even if he never truly grew to enjoy them. It was important to show his face publicly and meet his classmates. To grow in ways beyond simply swinging his sword and routing enemies.

Still, the room was crowded with bodies and sound as people raucously celebrated the end of exams and their lives. He couldn’t exactly begrudge them that but it was too warm, too busy, too loud to even think. Ares swallows down a bitter, unidentified beverage as he tries to find a pocket of space to reside in, out of the way of all the merry-making and good cheer. He was glad to be alive, of course. Especially after his temporary stint with death. However he’d rather spend his renewed life somewhere quiet and cosy, or in lush fields under the sun’s warmth. Cramped between sweaty strangers, shouting over loud music left him dizzy and disoriented.

His eyes met a familiar pair, like liquid mercury. Katarina looked just as uncomfortable as he felt but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling when he saw her. They got along well, a friendship and understanding born from strife had blossomed between them. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t missed her when he briefly returned to Agustria.

“Katarina,” he made his way over to her as fast as he could. His height made it easier for him to cut through the crowd quickly and efficiently. Ares stood before her, paused by awkwardness for a moment or two. Even amongst friends, words could be evasive at times. Regardless, his posture was far more relaxed than it had been amidst strangers and his smile reached his eyes.

“It’s good to see you again.”

Elincia is three steps above her classmate when the idea strikes. Maybe it's presumptuous - she hasn't known Katarina very long at all. That hardly matters to her though, she's always found it quite easy to express affection, particularly in peacetime. The springtide banners now proudly hung above the stairwell, a job well done.

She bends down and places a soft kiss atop Katarina's forehead and pulls back with a smile. There's a slight dusting of rose across her face which Elincia thinks is utterly adorable.

He barely knows her, aside from the fact they're in the same class. All he'd done was introduce himself. Why was she crying like this?

Why did he feel so guilty? So responsible for her emotions?

His stomach churns uncomfortably. Dealing with crying women had never been his forte - had always left him confused and desperate to find a way to calm whoever it was down but this felt different. Felt more visceral, like a sword crushing his ribcage and sinking into his heart.

Ares closes his eyes and sees a tunnel filled with lights. Smells burned flesh, acrid and pungent. He opens them again.

Ares does not have an answer for what he just saw but suddenly it dawns on him. She's seen it too. How he knows this, he isn't sure. He knows it the way he knows the sky is blue, that his favourite colour is black and Mystletainn was his father's sword. He just knows.

Cautiously, he reaches out to her. His movements are soft at first, a gentle hand on her slight shoulders, a finger to wipe the tears away. Then he pulls her in closer and rubs her back.

"It wasn't not your fault, I promise." What wasn't her fault? "I'm glad you're here."

She fiddles with a ribbon-- a sable thing with subtle, decorative crimson stitching-- nearly tugging it free of the basket handle she's fixed it to, though she catches herself at the last moment. Right. She should and will stay out of sight, but...

The basket is left neatly in front of his door, filled with modestly bottled elixirs, save for the folded letter tucked in back, atop a smooth stone. It reads as follows: 'Please stay safe. Happy birthday.'

'P.S. - His name is Samson.'

There's no name.

The basket comes with no name which leave Ares wary. He handles it carefully as he take it into his room to inspect. He likes the ribbon.

It's filled with potions, elixirs and vulneraries. What a thoughtful gift, assuming it isn't poison. He really, really hopes it isn't. (Maybe he should check?) He's so busy wondering who would leave him such a gift that he almost misses the note, sat upon a smooth stone. It feels nice in his hands and reflects the light beautifully.

'His name is Samson.' It strikes Ares that most people would consider this as very, very odd but there's a hint of a memory playing in the back of his mind. Purple hair, grey eyes and a kind smile. He licked a rock?

He licked a rock...

Gently, Ares places Samson on his windowsill so he can catch the sun and people watch. He places the ribbon on top of him too. Stylish. He does not lick this rock.