#sheereccentric

“Oh, boy... the knights really weren’t kidding when they said that rebellion was crushed, huh.” 

Sylvain gives a low whistle as they venture forth, stepping over slabs of broken rock as he walks. Everything’s in shambles; it’s impossible to tell what this building even was back in its prime, but the cracks and burns and chips along what little manages to still stand tell enough of a story well on its way to being forgotten. 

It’s a shame; he bets it was quite a beautiful structure before battle tore it down.

“Well, since the city’s underground and everything here’s been more or less blown to pieces, I guess it’s safe enough to assume that the door we’re looking for is gonna be beneath our feet, too.” Though, if a city’s meant to be hidden, he also doesn’t doubt it’ll take a bit of work to actually unveil the door itself. What would it take—magic? A contraption? A puzzle? Perhaps a mix of all three.

“Remember to watch your step!” he calls back, then, a little quieter to the person behind him, he grins and offers a hand. “C’mon. Better to be safe than sorry, yeah?”

Lysithea gazed upon the large, opulent exterior of the city of Tagzig. The bright stripes of aquamarine and teal accented the deep black blocks that formed the wall, both colors combining into a raw, grandiose look. If Aeschylus be not a liar, this citadel had incredible technology that could outmatch the most brilliant of tools and spells from Fodlan. It was like being a child in a candy store to this prodigy- a feeling that, unlike many others who use that comparison, she knows personally and recently. While everyone was at camp, she requested the role of patrolling the city walls via the obvious route to the entrance, but the job was snatched up while she was too soaked to argue. When she could finally strike out comfortably, she knew she needed a few quality allies to scout the darker, less notable edge of the city walls safely. Of those who remained, Janaff was a clear choice for his mobility, and Ophelia for her perception. Using her desperation brilliance, it did not take long for her to conscript convince them to her cause, and organize a plan. Landing her here. In front of the city of her dreams, thick darkness surrounding her, allies behind her, light ahead of her, perhaps an act of destiny, perhaps merely another bout of random fortune, perhaps a curse in sheep’s clothing. Like much in her life, Lysithea had many back-up plans and safety nets and last resorts- but if the chips came down to it, the girl couldn’t assure her own survival. Her heartbeat was on edge. How many scientists died researching something spectacular? How many died trying to help a stranger? How many died before they reached their 16th year?

Stay focused.

The unfortunate loss of half of their team the previous round ensures that the next round will begin with only Setsuna and himself in the ring, and Freyr finds he is unwilling to see how difficult their new enemies are. It was fortunate that the last match ended when it did... though he would not call beginning the next match with only two members fortunate as well. However, both of them have healing implements, which is perhaps the biggest saving grace in the situation. As the old phantoms dissipate and new ones take their place, his Recover, Restore, and Meteor are left while Hrungnir is taken away, an axe and lance given to him in return. As he is unfamiliar with either weapon, this round should promise to be... interesting.

But first, he must ensure the survival of the members of his group.

Calling upon his Faith magic, Freyr casts a Recover spell upon his remaining teammate. The Hoshidan archer seems to be suffering from an ailment from one of the previous rounds, which makes the use of Restore necessary as well—but first he needs to make sure the woman has enough health should she engage with the enemy.

Roll Recover: 16! Health recovered: 6. Setsuna: 8.5/10 HP

Freyr takes 0.5 damage from Joyous Lantern! Freyr: 8/10 HP

The spell removes the majority of her injuries, and Freyr breathes a sigh of relief. That relief, however, is undercut by a sting in his side, apparently courtesy of the lantern she carries. He frowns in recollection, vague impressions of the other two being injured here and there by the light-giving implement throughout the previous round making their way to the forefront of his mind. ... Strange. Shaking his head, he focuses on their enemies with the hope that the both of them will survive—and that they will be able to draw their teammates back into the fray.

curse of the pocky

"Oh, Ophelia..." Mitama smiles fondly as the blonde stands before her, pocky in mouth and hands on her hips as though she was presenting an epic quest rather than a simple, childish kissing game. Though, thinking of her friend with all the generosity in the world, she supposed that Ophelia would consider those two things to be one and the same.

"So, who was it that taught you of the game, hmm?" Mitama approaches Ophelia, laughing softly. "You could just eat the cookie, Ophelia dearest."

But she supposed that would rob all the fun of the game away.

Sighing, she carefully holds her friend's face still by holding onto her chin. Ophelia was prone to sudden movements and grand flourishes. It would hardly due for her to launch herself into proclamations at this moment, ever determined to shout her mystery around the treat she held in her mouth.

"So...the first to back away, hm?" The stars twinkle with mischief as Mitama leans in and bites into the cookie. It takes little work when moving with confidence to make the distance between them grow ever shorter. Soon enough, her lips are close enough to graze Ophelia's lips if she moves just a bit closer.

But she does not.

Mitama holds still, fighting the urge to break into a wide smile, waiting to see just what the amazing Ophelia will do.

Dinner had been an awful affair - too many people, too much talking. Ares has already had a long day and he plans for a quiet, productive evening in the training grounds. Just him, a sword and forging his skills and body to be stronger, faster and sharper. The moon lights his path as he meanders over there, still feeling somewhat sullen.

Owls hoot in the trees and he starts to relax a little. It’s not so bad, the fussing, small talk and idle chatter were irritating but they’re behind him now. He can focus on the weight of a sword in his hand, his stance, the power behind his strikes. Things that are important, that will keep him alive another day so he can meet his goals.

He will restore his homeland to the glory his father yearned for.

Reaching the grounds he’s about to enter when a woman’s voice catches his attention. Usually he prefers to train alone, but the voice -- he’s enchanted when he hears her speak.

“Missiletainn, strike!” she calls out and he rushes in, eager to find another of Hezul’s bloodline. This place was bizarre enough for him to get his hopes up. He stops in his tracks, confusion flitting across his features first then replaced with a mask of arrogance.

“That’s a tome,” he chides her, and himself mentally for daring to hope, “that’s not Mystletainn, the Demon Sword bestowed upon Crusader Hezul the Black Knight.” He’s so angry at this perceived slight that he can hear the blood rushing to his head. How dare she take the Mystletainn’s name as if it’s a toy to play with. It was a divine sword, designed to destroy any foe who dared oppose it’s weilder!

Oh, this would be easy. In an ocean of instructors, he had heard that Saint Seiros' Day was coming up and a pretty birdie had told him there was a play to be had. (Probably?) And he knew nothing about the Saints or the Sinners so much as he wanted to give it a shot. Learning a little bit of the wacky history of this place wouldn't do him any harm either! Well, he'd have to take that back, given that history has taken its toll on practically everyone and everything it could get its grimy mitts on. Anyyyyways. He wanted to prepare somehow, and... in a way that wouldn't leave him grasping for something in the dark.

"Hey, nice girl with the pretty locks, are you good at one-liners? 'Cawse I'm prepping for Saint Seiros' Day and I wanted to try my hand at practicing for it before something's just sprung up on me, you know?" Tapping on his chin, Henry gave a far-off sort of look. The inquisitor's sort, with his braining racking away at lines of dialogue he could use if they called him on stage.

"See, this... Nemesis guy?" Pulling up the history book he had snuggly resting under his arm, he tapped on an open passage about the so-called villain of the hour. "He's not funny HA HA at all, and I think I might need some sprucing up to do if I'm put to the test. Something like--" Throwing up one of his hands dramatically, Henry puffed up his chest. "HARK. SEIROS, QUEEN OF... uhh... Ohhhh, she was a goddess."

"HARK. SEIROS! GODDESS OF SOMETHING OR ANOTHER! I have come to slay you!"

| Starter for @sheereccentric

*Click Clack Click Clack*

The sound of heels could be heard as Forrest made his way down the entrance hall. When word got out that his dear friend Ophelia had arrived, Forrest knew he had to speak to her. It's been about a good couple of months since they’ve seen each other or even talked  and, being that Forrest left on such a short notice, he forgot to say goodbye.

Forrest kept a simple expression on his face. His brows furrowed slightly and his lips formed a frown. His steps laced impatience as he hurried along. He didn’t want to rush but he also didn’t want to miss her. It took him a good couple of minutes to even find out where she was anyway and he did not plan on having to do that again. 

After what seemed like forever Forrest finally managed to make it to the end of the hall. The blonde boy hesitated as he reached for the door- it was quite nerve racking. ‘Forrest you spent a good amount of minutes getting here- now is not the time to rethink this. Besides, you wanted to see her for a while now.’

After taking a deep breath, Forrest pushed his hands against the cool wooden doors. The doors opened with a creak and Forrest moved his right hand in front of his face to block the sun’s direct attack on his eyes. Quickly, Forrest took a glance around scanning the place for Ophelia. With the marketplace being not that far ahead, many merchants and people roaming in front of him made his task a lot harder than it needed to be.

Forrest took a couple steps forward, seeing if he could get a better view. The action did help tremendously as Forrest was able to spot Ophelia making small talk with one of the merchants. The frown that was once on Forrest’s face was no more, and he smiled. Quickly, Forrest made his way towards Ophelia and the merchant. 

 @sheereccentric

The stars glistened in the night sky, carving a path Flayn couldn't help and adore. She often found herself wandering outside when she knew she should be sleeping-- Still, a stroll with the twinkling lights above her made her feel a sense of welcoming. Her restlessness wasn't anything new nor did it particularly surprise her. There was quite a lot to see at this time of day, in any case!

Her fondness towards the liveliness of the monastery didn’t end here, either. For, from dusk until dawn, there was always someone to speak with. Flayn was more than curious about everyone’s own stories they hold within-- Despite those different tales, they could share smiles under the same sky. She’d always cherish that.

"A beautiful night, is it not?" She let out a giggle at her own comment, gaze shifting from her newly spotted companion to the world above her. "I have been wanting to learn more about the stars. I imagine.. Well, I believe they all have stories of their own."

"Oh, I know! Shall we play a game? Let us spy what kind of animals and images we can make from their formations! I'll go first." Turning her gaze from Ophelia back to the world above her, she made little binoculars with her hands to scope out the best creations possible!