#sacretic

Well, it is rather awkward to stand near Eirika's husband without uttering a word. There are also other reasons why Lyon feels this way. It is hardly Seth's fault; Lyon still needs time to work through his emotions, but that is neither here nor there.

The prince of Grado clears his throat before turning towards the other man. "Would you like one, General?" He offers buns on a napkin. "They are rather good."

ETHEREAL BALL 2026 -- first half

Seth turns his head as Lyon clears his throat and announces his presence next to him. This was his first encounter with the other since he'd arrived and while he still held a small amount of skepticism lingering from the war and the choices that had been made, Seth believed Ephraim when he'd told him that Lyon was no longer under Fomortiis's control. So, in an attempt to keep things friendly, the general accepted the bun topped with icing and the cherry.

"Thank you, Prince Lyon." He nods, taking a bite and raising a hand to wipe some of the icing off the corner of his mouth. It was good, and it wasn't entirely often that Seth let himself indulge in sweets though for the occasion, he would allow himself to relax. Even if it was just a little bit. "My apologies that we are only greeting each other now. I've been busy with my classes, and I trust it has been the same for you, but I've heard from the twins that you've been well. I'm glad." Genuinely, he means that.

"Oh, we must have at least one dance, Lyon." He was among her first dance partners as a young girl. To be able to dance with him again brings her a rare kind of joy.

Thankfully, he does not resist when she pulls him out onto the floor, though it takes them both a moment to mimic the steps of those around them. When she draws close to him, she opens her arms as if opening a gate, and in turn Lyon takes her hands and closes them together. Eventually, they segue into a closer dance, her following his lead as they spin and twirl in time.

Now that their steps are slower, she finds she can take the time to enjoy his presence more.

"I am so glad you attended with us." Perhaps now is a good chance for her to say something she's been thinking of... "I cannot imagine what this must be like for you, but it means the world to my brother and I to have you here. I hope you know that." She smiles up at him fondly and tries to forget the years following his death. The heartaches and late nights and tears.

But she does not wish to linger on anything so somber tonight. So she brightens her smile for him. "I did not get the opportunity to tell you before, though maybe you've realized. This outfit is from Grado." She pats his arm affectionately. "Ephraim picked it up on his return from Renais these past months. Do you like it?"

Unlike some years, Niamh does not spot any tea for her to have along with the snacks. It’s perfectly possible for them to roll them out further along the night, but what catches her eye as a possible substitute instead? The curious nature of shaved ice. It could be a drink, paired alongside a snack. But it could also be eaten from a bowl, treated like a snack in it’s own right. Would it truly be the correct kind of substitute?

As she ponders her options, there’s another person who has made their way over. Once she recognizes that he’s also here to try the shaved ice, she decides to ask; “which do you think…a bowl, or a glass…”

There’s no wrong answer, don’t worry. Niamh even has a bowl and a glass of the shaved ice prepared - while the bowl has bright, cherry red syrup, the ice in the glass is colored blue. What flavor is blue? It’s blue raspberry, of course. What flavor is blue raspberry? It’s blue flavor, isn’t it? 

“You can have whichever you like…” she follows up, clarifying that the offer is indeed for him. “And for your efforts, you’ll get a flower, too…” 

@sacretic

"greetings, prince lyon." it is far too formal of a hello for ephraim, but this was indeed a formal setting. even if it was stiff and uncomfortable for him, this is what he had spent many moons practicing back home. the art of conversation, the way of building connections amongst other nobles. it felt so frivolous, and yet it's importance was stressed to him time and time again. part of him wanted to know, at the very least, if lyon would recognize this change in him. would the prince see his commitment to doing things right? for both renais and grado...

"i had not expected to find you attending this kind of event of your own volition." the same could be said for himself, he thought... perhaps he was not the only one determined to change. the way the three of them used to sneak away together, avoiding the watchful eyes of adults. the fields they passed the time in, even the ideas they shared... all were in the past. everyone, including him, had to grow up at some point.

Micaiah has not had the chance to get to know Lyon the way she has some of the others she has shared this dream with for the past moon or so, but she owes the man her life and the trust that comes with that is not be forgot. His quiet suggestion to the group that they inquire after the Mechanic’s initial request for seven live cores and fuel was met with varying degrees of interest from the re-assembled party, but it’s Micaiah who takes the initiative and invites him along when she once again sees their “friend”’s familiar silhouette making its way to the apartments.

“I have my own question for him,” Micaiah says, gesturing with the wrench she still has on her from the ill-fated chase she Kurthnaga and Professor Leo had been on, “so if you could attend to our resources I would be very thankful. Let us both be prepared.”

While the group had mostly been preoccupied with Deirdre, Forsyth, and their sudden return to health, the Mechanic’s first appearance back at the apartments after their run in with the Aukes had made it quite apparent that any questions regarding his whereabouts would lead only to more confusing anecdotes; so while Micaiah had not given up on solving that mystery yet, she figured she should grab the other’s attention with something more likely to incite interest.

“Hello there,” she says, waving to the Mechanic as she and Lyon descend the apartment stairs, “we have a few things for you if you have a moment!”

The Mechanic raises an eyebrow and Micaiah holds out the wrench, “We found this on our way to bring back our captured teammates. Would it happen to be yours?”

"Oh! Yes!!" He lights up Immediately, until dawns the realization that his tools being scattered on the ground means they were mistreated. "They must have dropped it from my tool belt along the way... How could they... Well! Thank you for returning it though!" reaches

"Oh no! The Aukes did?" She holds the wrench to her heart. Clearly she truly feels for him. "that's terrible! I'm so glad we were about to recover it for you. Oh, but first can you tell us more about what you need the cores and fuels for?"

Unphased, the Mechanic merely winks.   "It wouldn't be much of a surprise if I just told you, now would it? Rather, I'd love to show you."

"Certainly! As long as we can help. It's the least we can do," Micaiah chirps, looking up at Lyon, seeming to come to an agreement they move move closer to the Mechanic, Micaiah handing over the wrench while Lyon gathered the cores from amongst his robes. They would have to bring out the fuel together, later.

@sacretic sent:

"oh, you are..." recognition dawns in violet eyes once it becomes clear who lyon is crossing paths with. it's difficult to forget a man with a flair for dramatics in his speech.

fingers brush against the cover of his tome, only to close around the levin sword's hilt instead. perhaps using such a weapon over inky miasma will quell his unease somewhat. (his previous opponent, the woman whose name lyon didn't even think to ask for, told him to be proud for fighting well... but.)

"let's get this over with..." he raises it heavenward, electricity crackling in tandem with thunder's rumble overhead.   &   with a flick of his wrist, grado's prince directs the magical current toward his opponent.

lyon (5/5 HP) attacks owain with levin sword at range! roll: 16, hit! -2HP (1.5 base + 0.5 magic+) to owain poison strike will activate at the end of turn! -0.5HP to owain

Brushing off the scars of his last scuffle, the esteemed Professor Oberon Dark marches into the throng of conquest. With arcane powers ebbing through his blood, he thinks himself unstoppable.

‘Tis a pity, then, that he’d lose the jump for a second time now.

The bolt scrapes his shoulder, singing black his professorial uniform and charring what tender flesh lies beneath. Dark hisses as he turns to his opponent; he’s really starting to grow tired of this beat-the-hero game.

“GRAH! Again I am taken by foul tactics!” he announces, speaking more to himself than to Lyon, “You, too, shall receive a taste of my bloodfury revenge! Feel the hungering wrath of Seventh Doomflare!” 

Owain (3.5/6) counterattacks Lyon with Thoron! Roll: 16, Crit! -4 HP and Poison Strike, -0.5 HP (Lyon 0.5/5)

A better start than last time, but his opponent still stands. Closing in for the finish, Owain slides a few paces nearer and readies a quicker dose of his spell. The smirk on his face says he’s confident it will land the final blow, but,

Owain (3.5/6) attacks Lyon with Thoron! Roll: 6, Miss! -0 HP (Lyon 0.5/5)

In spite of getting dragged from your Academy beds and made to solve problems in the middle of nowhere, these weeks spent in the village have given you all the best sleep of your lives. Tonight, you and your friends are whisked off to shared a dream of the past, what is now an idyllic world that adapts easily to your desires and expectations. Your mistakes, the pain others have inflicted on you, the things you’ve lost… everything you wish you could have changed or have control over, this dream gives you the chance to correct the course and make things right again. But as you feel your mind and body getting weaker with every minute you remain asleep, you realize that tearing yourself away from a world where everything is perfect takes a lot more will than simply kicking yourself awake. [Grants Faith +1]

Eirika arrives at Grado Keep late in the evening. The household staff waiting outside for her is to be expected; to settle her into bed after a brief audience with Emperor Vigarde to announce her arrival. She was not expecting him. Her heart soars in her chest when she sees him. Eirika scrambles to get out of the carriage as fast as she can. All thoughts of propriety fly from her mind as she dashes towards Lyon, teal hair blowing behind her in the wind. Wrapping her arms around his neck she laughs, joyful and warm. Oh, she had truly missed him!

“Lyon! What are you doing out here in the cold?” Eirika scolds, though her tone belies her real feelings. It feels like it’s been so very long - an eternity almost. Holding on to him like this feel so much like relief, a balm for a wound she didn’t know marred her heart. “It’s so good to see you again! It’s been--”

How long had it been? Eirika finds the words disappear, right on the tip of her tongue. She can’t bring herself to finish the sentence; something about this feels off but she just can’t place her finger on it. Wonders why it makes her heart ache so. After all, there’s no reason for her to feel like this moment is a miracle. One she hasn’t earned. Eirika shakes her head, stepping back to take a good look at her dearest friend.

“Well it’s been a while. I’ve missed you greatly,” she tries to ignore the strange feeling in her chest. Focusses instead on the present moment. “I can’t believe you managed to prevent such a terrible quake! You really are a hero, Lyon.”

@sacretic

   There he stood, unable to speak much less press past this disastrous situation he had been placed in. It was supposed to be a simple hunt and retrieve mission, as easy as training really, so how did it end up like this... Stood to his side was Lyon, Prince of Grado, his best friend, the man he had killed two years ago in a war to save his country. How could he be standing here in the flesh, looking just as confused and baffled as he felt. He could hardly look the other in their eyes, why would the gods play such cruel games with him... His hand tightened nervously around his spear, unsure of what exactly he was to do in a situation like this.

   Eirika would surely be overjoyed to see him again, but she did not know what he knew... How could he ever tell her the truth, the truth that their friend had betrayed them of his own volition. It still sent pangs of anguish through his entire being, remembering the before and after of their final clash. The guilt Ephraim tried to suppress, the guilt of letting things become the way they had, the guilt of having to be the one to end it... It only seemed magnified in Lyon’s presence. How could he ever get through this mission if all he could think about was the past, and not what was right in front of him.