#sicglinde

i am REQUIRED BY LAW to gush about Nina because she’s half the reason i made this blog in the first place!!  Nina is such a hecking gift to us all, she’s so sweet and kind and I’m??? love her??

Death no longer held its conventional meaning for him. After his father had passed from the world, Lyon became all the more determined to override the barrier between the living and the dead. After his fair amount of magical tinkering, he discovered that the veil that separated the two to be surprisingly delicate. It turned as malleable as putty when put to craft by his intentions.

Thus, Ephraim’s corpse -- which would harried the Lyon of old with much woe -- simply proved a challenge that his magical prowess could easily combat. He imbued the inert body with life just as he had done with his late father’s, and the lady, Monica. That process had been simple; it was instilling the former intelligence and ability to speak that proved more difficult. Ephraim could only muster a few words at a time, and his gait was less of a walk than it was a clumsy shambling. 

Lyon had dubbed this a mounting inconvenience, for no matter the time he had dedicated to righting the state of the corpse, it stalwartly resisted his every effort to make it live. True, he has effortlessly revived it, but its liveliness was akin to an imbecile’s. He had worked tirelessly, unyielding, to make certain his friend lived again. When he finally could show some semblance of effort -- intelligence by virtue of recognition of certain persons -- the very person Ephraim reacted the most to shrunk away from his gaze.

“Eirika,” Lyon said, his voice impossibly soft, as though she had balked away from a prospect that he was trying to goad her towards. “That’s quite rude of you to run. Ephraim has valued you even in death. See how his eyes deliberate on you? He recognizes you. Had he the strength, he’d embrace you.”

『 ♕ 』

                                                     Askr. They’d told him that he was in Askr. He’d been fired out of some hooded figure’s gun in Askr.                               He’d never heard of Askr before, never seen it on any maps. From the sight of so many people ambling around in full plated armour with swords and axes and lances at the ready Ghetsis initially assumed that he’d either completely lost his mind or that he’d been flung back in time, but the one who had brought him there in the first place ( appropriately titled the Summoner by the locals, apparently ) had been swift to explain their situation. They were apparently the only other person in the land besides himself that was familiar with the technology and terminology of the modern era, and then he’d dared to assume that perhaps they had both come from the same place --- but that, too, was too much. The Summoner had never seen a Pokémon before in their life. They’d pointed out his Hydreigon and decided on calling it a ‘wyvern’ and his ‘mount’, pointed to his metal staff and called it his ‘lance’, pointed at the emblem of Team Plasma emblazoned across it and asked if it was his House Crest before ushering him out of their quarters and introducing him to a handful of knight-looking fellows as a wyvern knight. He’d heard of Pokémon that could create tears in space and time, but he’d never experienced anything like what was going on with him before.

                                     A week had passed. He was still stuck in Askr.

         "... Where is it that you’re from, girl??”

         His voice was soft, sultry; not even being thrown into a different dimension could shake his composition, it seemed. Hydreigon at least remained at his side, its primary head coiling around the side of his own so it could peer a blind pair of eyes down at the armoured woman his master was referring to, all teeth and black downy feathers and muted rage. Ghetsis waved his good hand out in front of its snout to shoo it away, his eye trained on her face, reading for an expression.

                                     @sicglinde && @naglfcr

                                                  private rp blogs for                             the restoration queen and the foolish gradoan heir

✦ —— ❝ h-huh ?! ❞ alm yelped. he recovers quickly from his falter, finding his grip upon his sword once more though any plans to continue training were dashed. he sheathes his blade and turns to face eirika, a sheepish smile on his face replacing the surprised one he had worn earlier. his cheek is still warm, though his embarrassment has little to do with his blushing visage. ❝ jeez, you surprised me, princess. what if i had hit you ? ❞

         though his words show concern, his voice sounds far from devastated. a part of him feels as if even if he had drawn his blade on her, she would’ve parried him in time or at the very least dodged. she surely knew what she was doing, getting the jump on him mid-drills. he’s impressed he didn’t detect her coming– he supposes he must’ve been too focused on his strikes that he forgot his defenses. he can hear his grandfather scolding him for that, and he takes a mental note to improve on that.

{i find your ephraim/celica pairing very interesting bc i’ve been very close to drawing that pairing…}