#support: corrin

Everything after his conversation with the guard is a blur--probably for the best, judging by their disheveled state. His temples still throb with a headache, though at least he's no longer bleeding from his wounds.

They've found a meager respite in this break room, though he won't be lulled into a false sense of security. Senses still on high alert, he creeps closer to the locked door, adjusting his hold on Corrin. Laslow stares at the key for a heartbeat. Honestly, they could use every ounce of luck Lady Fate has to offer. Blowing kisses has always been a superstition of his--

He shakes his head, dislodging a dust bunny from his hair, and hobbles forward with Corrin in tow. Kisses for luck aside, Laslow fits the key in the lock, relieved when it turns and he hears the tell-tale click.

“Careful now,” he murmurs and gives it a gentle push.

There's a guard inside. As soon as you open the door, he turns around, surprised. Then angry. "Hey!" he shouts, and charges for you with his spear. [Roll 1d3: 2. We run!]

> starter for: @ofdusk

Are you stuck with glass bones and paper skin? Sick of just having pedestrian magic to your name? The professors are holding a special class for the squishiest of mages, clerics, and archers, where they may learn close-quarters self-defense if they’re ambushed by an enemy. [Grants Gauntlets +1]

In the past, he’d hold little interest in such a seminar, content with relying on his skill with both magic and blades to see him through most situations. 

He realizes now he held a narrow minded view, never moving past the limitations he’d placed on himself in childhood. The monastery had proven time and again he’d often be left stranded without the defense mechanisms he most trusted. His experience in the arena a few months prior had cemented what he’d long suspected—it was time for him to expand his weapon proficiency. 

Admittedly, Leo had dragged his feet about the whole ordeal, mulling it over in his head for weeks. Picking up something other than a tome or a sword brought with it a flood of memories, echoes of a competitive little prince desperate for the same level of greatness as his older brother. 

Until a perfect opportunity appeared in the form of a flyer posted on every bulletin board in the monastery. 

He’d presented it to Corrin last evening, quietly informing her of his decision to improve his knowledge. A backup plan, he’d called it, praising her own use of gauntlets while in the arena. Turning his body—for so long a point of contention, of weakness—into a potential weapon clicked the way no other pursuit had. He’d never be strong enough to heft an axe or wear a full general’s armor, and past attempts at wielding faith magic had yielded little fruit. 

Standing in the bright light of morning, he reminds himself of all the reasons he’s even on the training yard with a pair of training gloves strapped around his wrists. Attention snaps to Corrin while the instructor informs them of the importance of a proper fighting stance. 

@ofdusk​

It seems these halls can't get enough of Corrin tearing through them, arms flung wide and grin spread across her features.

Seeing her siblings again… There is nothing more important to her than that.

Her entire weight is slammed into the figure of her brother, arms folding around him in that death grip of a hug that she is so well known for. Sorry, Takumi. "Hi, I've missed you," her voice is full of so much joy, spoken as she frees him from her grip. "Hinoka got here only a few days ago! What is with you guys and not telling me you're coming?"

A shake of her head, and then a bright laugh. "But I'm happy to see you! You've got to tell me everything that's happened since last we met!"

Takumi had been present on Garreg Mach’s campus for less than twenty four hours and already he had been bombarded with paperwork (all of which explained which classes he’d be responsible for and when, as well as the various duties required of all faculty at the academy) and kept from enjoying a long-overdue nap to rest up from the journey. The people of Fódlan moved quickly and never stopped, it seemed. 

Just as he was leaving one room to head for another building, Takumi was suddenly enveloped in the familiar embrace of his sister, whom he had last seen... Gods above, had it really been so long? Did her hair get longer? Did she grow taller? She looked more mature than last time, that was for sure. Ruling a kingdom did that to a person, he supposed. When Takumi realized he had simply been staring in slack-mouthed awe at the presence of his sister, he shook himself from his stupor and returned the hug just as she tried to pull away to release him. 

"Kamui, it’s been too long." He held her at arms length to get one more look at her before patting the top of her head with a grin. "Sorry I forgot to write about my journey here. It’s been tough traveling during the winter season, but I’m happy to hear that Hinoka arrived safely. I’ll have to find her and greet her, as well." 

> starter for: @ofdusk​

In the end, he has no one to blame but himself. He could, theoretically, lay partial blame on Kana, but that would earn him a rather sharp pinch on his ear from the woman currently hovering over him like a mother hen. 

(It’s not her fault. He knows better than anyone her own past health scares.)

He’s surprised she hasn’t done so already. If he hadn’t been so stubborn, he could have politely explained that spending all afternoon in the snow would exacerbate his cold. 

But saying no to bonding moments with his son is not always so simple, even though it would have saved plenty of heartache in the long run. 

As it stands, Leo sits up, mouth open to protest Corrin’s worry, when a coughing fit overtakes him. Spine curls inward, proud shoulders hunching over. One hand covers his mouth while the other wraps around his stomach. Eyes squeeze shut as he reminds himself to breathe. 

The fit lasts for what feels like an eternity, leaving him teary eyed and gasping for air once it finally ends. He holds up a hand, palm out to Corrin. A barrier meant to give him room to recover, forcing his stupid lungs to work. (Of course, it doesn’t help that his nose is congested.) 

Blonde head nods once. Hand lowers, blinking the tears from his vision as he looks over at Corrin. “...fine. I will stay in bed today.” Leo collapses back against the pillows with an undignified thump. “You shouldn’t stay with me. I don’t want you getting sick, too.” 

She's got fingers curled in his sleeve, tugging him to her with a little hum. He always looks so official dressed like this, less like her Leo and more like her prince. It feels like home, in that way.

Though home was certainly less... bizzare.

"I stole a bunch of these from one of the tables," and, sure enough, her free hand is raised to display a collection of pastel wrappers. "Here, take one. I could eat them all, but..."

Unconscious, the way their outfits coordinate in color. A trick of their hosts, no doubt, the details subtle enough that only those who pay attention would notice.

Where her attire is all soft lines and gentle elegance, he finds himself in the more starkly cut, traditional military dress. The high collar (right side out) clasps with engraved silver pieces, matching the silver piping running in two parallel lines down his black shirt.

"Hello, Corrin," he replies, refraining from admonishing her that she'll wrinkle his sleeve. Trivial things that like don't matter much to her regardless, not when it stands in the way of her seeking affection. He finds that it bothers him less and less these days as well.

She's more impressed to see him actually here than anything. Sure, she had been the driving force in obligating him to show, but that he actually would is another thing entirely.

The armful of flowers she's been sporting has dwindled, leaving only a single arrangement to rest in the crook of her arm. A bundle of pure white held together by a velvet ribbon. Eyes glitter as she offers them to him. Edelweiss, of course. Such is almost tradition.

"Wouldn't be a festival of love without them, hm?" Corrin bounces on the balls of her feet, darting to press a kiss to his cheek. "Consider it my apology for dragging you here."

Of course he showed. She'd been so enthusiastic about it, staring at him with those wide pleading eyes in the days leading up to the festival.

He scoffed where appropriate, placated her when necessary. Grand displays of love don't need a day. Especially not during such an ostentatious thing as this, with flower petals strewn above every surface.

The secret, deeply buried romantic in Leo admires the dedication. Honoring a loved one and showing them how loved they are is deeply important to him. He simply prefers to do that in private.

A small box hides behind his back at Corrin's approach. Leo smiles, eyeing the final arrangement of flowers in her arms. "Thank you, Rin," he says, one hand reaching out to accept the bundle. "They're beautiful."

He cradles the edelweiss close to his chest. Not too soon, as she plants an energetic kiss to his cheek. "Indeed. Apology accepted." With that, he hands over his box, the wrapping simple yet precise.

"And that is mine, for giving you such a hard time about it." Leo pauses, glancing around. Satisfied no one is nearby, he presses a kiss of his own to her lips.

Twelve to realize she is unharmed, to press a hand over her eyes and accept that they are still her own.

Thirteen before the sound of something moving beside her brings her attention to the stirring bodies that surround them, fourteen when her eyes land finally on the rousing form of Leo.

She stops counting.

He doesn't get a proper warning or greeting, though when has he ever? Corrin is falling to her knees in a second, flinging her arms around him and clinging as tightly as she can with what feeble strength she still has. Distantly, she's aware that she's trembling, that she's crying.

"I thought you'd never wake up," a whisper, shaking with the same staccato as her shoulders, "I thought... we... I died, and the houses were falling and-"

A breath, another. Six before she finds her voice again. "I'm so glad you're okay."

Slowly, at first, consciousness--true consciousness--returns. Foggy eyes blink open to find nothing but blue skies overhead. He jolts upright, aware of rustling around him, the soft groans of those he'd journeyed here with as they awaken.

He's still primed for battle, senses heightened, fingers curling into the dirt below as if preparing to cast a spell. A deep inhale of ash free air, that choking feeling clogging his throat for the past--how long has it been?--finally gone.

A hand covers his chest, measuring the rise and fall of his breathing. Irregular, though no worse than usual.

Movement catches in his peripheral; he doesn't look up, simply opening his arms as she crashes directly into him. Fingers find her hair, gently combing through the wild ivory strands.

He stops breathing for a heartbeat. Another. She died? A thousand questions race through his head as his lungs expand. He will ask them, later, when the shock of their experience has faded with distance from this forgotten town.

Miraculously, he is okay. Beyond a poisonous gas, he suffered no more than the superficial cuts and bruises accumulated through navigating a ruinous city. If he's faintly trembling as well, he hopes she doesn't comment on it.

She had come to protect him the way that she had not been there to so many months ago, had demanded that he not leave without her, and still fate would choose to separate them.

"Just be safe," she mumbles, cheek to his shoulder. Their former dreams had not spit them back out broken or cold, but then how could she rely on these to do the same.

"Please," a pause, because she knows he cannot do what she will ask, "just... promise me you'll wake up again."

They had reached for each other in the same breath, once their full packs were neatly stacked by the door. A full hour's worth of oppressive silence weighed heavily on his shoulders--he missed her filling in the gaps with intermittent humming and rambling anecdotes.

He mirrors her soothing motions, the gesture betraying his own inner frustration. It's a small comfort knowing they are bound for the same destination when duty would have them bound to different responsibilities.

Her whispered plea strikes his heart like an arrow. Never will he forget the awful blackness stealing his vision, the contradiction of a heavy weightlessness overtaking his limbs while each breath became more labored than the last.

Leo lifts his head from where his own cheek had been pressed again soft ivory hair, two fingers of his free hand alighting under her chin. Resolute emerald eyes find her own distraught crimson. "I promise," he says softly. No lie passes his lips; he will do everything in his considerable power to see another day.