#supportingdancer

A frigid breeze brushes against cobbled brick, offering a refreshing chill to the faithful.

The Goddess Tower: a place for solemn reflection. Many a student come to this special location to have their wishes granted. Some yearn for eternal love with their partners, others for success in their careers, and for a select few, that wish is simply happiness. But our young prince (king? it’s complicated) Lewyn wants to ask for something a little more complicated.

Strange reunions had become part of his daily life at The Officers Academy, but something about the Ethereal Ball brings about more confusion than he bargained for. It seems that anyone--past, present, or future--is capable of showing up here unannounced. Lewyn can only make light of this fact for so long; putting on a happy-go-lucky demeanor in the face of frustrating questions takes a toll on him. And so, worn from tricky conversation, he grows desperate. Lewyn seeks the guidance of the almighty ones, in the hopes that they can provide some explanation as to why all of Jugdral seems to be congregating in one foreign academy. 

Alone and kneeling, he clasps his hands together. Lewyn’s no saint, so don’t get used to this image. His eyes shut and he concentrates on his desire, speaking out to the empty room so that the echoes may carry his voice to the divine, “Forseti, goddess--or whoever--I don’t ask for much. But just this once, I’ve got a request for ya. I know I ain’t exactly been the best me I can be, so I promise I’ll try a little harder if you grant this wish: for once, I ask that you give me more answers than questions. Send me a sign or something; tell me what I’m meant to do here.”

“Show me for what reason, or which person, you’ve sent me on this journey for...”

HE HAS WAITED ALL YEAR FOR THIS.

Second place has never sat right with him. Last year, he came away only a runner-up to victory, and while there is no mark of shame for how far he came, it still left a chip upon his shoulder that has never quite gone away.

This year, it will be his year.

This year, he is not alone, and has twice the reason to succeed.

Anticipation may work itself quietly through his body before Lorenz and Maria step to the floor for their dance, but Lorenz reaches for Maria’s hand, gives it a light squeeze before the spotlight is at their backs and all the eyes in the room rest upon them.

“Let us show them our grace, and leave our competitors in the dust.” The words are not gentle, but assured, and Lorenz beams brightly at dear Maria before he starts them off.

He believes them to be the epitome of elegance. Their bond is strong, and in the moment, Lorenz feels as though it’s reflected in their dance—

The judges have a rather peculiar idea otherwise:

7, 3, 3.

—No, that can’t be right.

"Hehe aren't you a big guy! And so handsome! I bet if you flexed I could hang off your arm!"

He simply does not know how this strange green haired woman dragged him into this booth. Scathach would confess internally to a weakness of loud women who gave him little room for reply. Without a second thought from his company's side, she dragged him along. He was thankful that Julia had followed behind him silently, though she didn't seem to be well. After this picture, he would need to check and make sure if she was feeling ok.

The swordsman stood awkwardly with the woman until she moved suspiciously around him a few times. She gave him a slight warning and a giggle before ripping the fabric covering his arms away with relative ease. He gasped in surprise, goosebumps rising up on his arms feeling the fresh air on them. He attempted to grab to fabric back from her to cover himself, but she held it out of his reach seeming to delight in his struggles.

"Hehe aren't you a big guy! And so handsome! I bet if you flexed I could hang off your arm!"

By nature of rapport, when a game begins the pieces must fall into place. Some inserted onto squares they've known inherently, others haphazardly thrown onto the board. Everyone is made of ash and no one stands a chance to time, but still. Still. They fight as they always have, bite and tear and sink as they always have— until the gust winnows their personhoods back into dust. Their perpetual state of being only holds because they are subsequently not-being. And once their bottomless shadows begin to leak, they must fight to remind themselves what it is to be empty as light.

Every step begins as a reminder that they're fighting for their lives, because the world has decided to tide them into strategy, into calculation. When two dragons of majesty soar into their view, the light of divine speeches singes Henry's eyebrows. Their magic trickled into the very ground they tread on, and he knew this sort of glory was of hallowed descent. Or mimicked, hand-in-horrid-hand, to the likes of gods. And he laughed at the irony of it all. Was he supposed to pity them? A child and father who were set onto the board as toys?

Henry sent off the first flare, hinging on the idea that the closest thing to clemency is to finish the game before it can truly begin. Spindles of darkness began to spawn from his fingertips, bleeding into violent fervor while skulls began to align malignantly. Bolting his dark power down from the sky, he set his spell to plummet like the sun. 

Henry inflicts 1 damage from a Death Spell (15) at Gricenchos!

"Have a little Death, dad!"

She knows what those words mean and she panics It's not you, it's me. I don't want you but I'm trying to let you down easy. He danced with her. She doesn't want him to leave.

"No, wait!" Silvia's voice is a little too desperate as she grabs Niles's hands before he can turn to go. It's too hard to be left alone and unwanted. "I could dance for you! Come on!"

He is right that he's not much of a dancer but she's willing to suffer a few squished toes if it means closeness with another person. She has no idea who he is, but if he is willing to humor her by dancing with her, he's got to be a nice person, right?

“Milady, the only kinds of dances I’m interested in involve plenty less clothing—or not, depending on the circumstances, but—”

Gods, she has a grip for someone of her stature. Niles breathes a sigh, equal parts frustrated and exasperated, before he turns to face her again. She’s insistent. She’s stubborn. And for what? He’s already proven to be quite possibly one of the worst partners she could have picked, and the bruises that’ll litter her toes couldn’t have made any favorable impression. It isn’t his preferred method of chasing people away, but beggars can’t be choosers.

ask meme | receiving!

❰❰ HANDS ❱❱ sender’s fingers graze the receiver’s fingers.

It's meant to be an announcement, but the longer it goes on, the more Sylvain is convinced that it has, at some point, transformed into a sermon. Don't leave a mess behind and don't break Church property has turned into the Goddess is always watching and She will forgive those who confess their wrongdoings, and he can't say he's ever been very interested in figuring out what he could possibly do to earn Her forgiveness.

Besides—if She's never listened to him, what would ever make him think She'd spare a glance his way?

The girl next to him fidgets, clearly just as uncomfortable. It's difficult to tell whether it's because she disagrees with the message too, or if she's simply unused to standing still for such long periods of time. She's cute; long, green hair and bright eyes to match, the kind who'd fall for a fairytale and never think about what comes beyond the 'happily ever after.'

The princess is happy. She tears the prince's heart out of his chest. She can do that, you know; it's love. It's always out of love.

So when her hand brushes against his for the second or third time and she sneaks up a glance at him, the way all women do when they're interested, Sylvain gives her his best smile. A slight turn of his head asks the question—'wanna get out of here?'—and she smiles right back.

@supportingdancer

Ashen feathers line the snow laden path leading to the flock’s rumored nesting grounds. The downy tuffs almost sparkle with a fantastic iridescence, dusted and contrasted against the untouched snow. Eldigan counted each feather he passed as he climbed the hill, but soon, they became a new blanket covering the ground.

Pegasi distained men, but Eldigan wanted to at least catch a glimpse of these blackened mares. Perhaps his proficiency with horses might even win some over.

When he finally reaches the peak, a few do ruffles at his presence. They whicker and flap their wings but remain mostly undisturbed. He keeps his distance, but a particularly ornery lady still finds it too close. She loudly whinnies and flies off, the ensuing gust kicking up snow and blinding him.

     While he did make an honest effort to venture to the surface when he felt the need to, Andrei discovered that the Abyss itself had a questionably functional social system all in its own. Not one he was particularly interested in joining, mind - despite the fact that some of the denizens of the Abyss looked like they could be nobility, few acted as such. And just because he was no longer an active representative of House Yngvi, doesn’t mean he was ready or able to let all that came with it dissolve as well.

     ...There was no truly escaping his ties, after all. His sister’s presence assured that.

     The thought of that added to his bone-deep weariness, and at the moment he wanted nothing more than to shut himself from the world for a time, somewhere he didn’t have to think, didn’t have to navigate all the intricacies of interpersonal interactions or force himself to act in a proper manner. Intending to return to his quarters before the exhaustion set in too deep to hide from his expression, Andrei headed through the streets at a quick pace, largely heedless of his surroundings. It wasn’t until he reached a corner of the street, where a crowd was gathered, that he was forced to slow, focusing his gaze on the source of all the attention.

     ...Just a street performer. With an annoyed sigh, Andrei began to work his way through the throng of people. How ridiculous, that so many were willing to mindlessly watch a scantily dressed woman conning them out of time and money with what passed for a dance. Halfway through to the other side, a cheer rose among the crowd, the dancer apparently reaching the climax of her performance. Despite himself, Andrei turned to look.

     What on earth...?!

     In just a few seconds, his exhaustion had bled away, as though a fire had been lit within him, its light bursting through the dark edges of his mind. Unable to tear his eyes away, he found himself stopping in his tracks, staring just as intently on the woman’s movements as all the mindless crowd around him, until the music swelled one last time and then died down. The crowd roared with tumultuous applause, but Andrei just remained frozen, even when people began dispersing, still mesmerized by what he had seen.