#thievingstalwart

Beruka made the final adjustments to her outfit, making sure the belt hiding her dagger was wrapped tightly around her thigh before patting down the rest of her long dress. She took a look in the mirror, doing a small twirl to make sure that everything was in place. The civilian clothing they received wasn’t too hard to put on thankfully - they very much resembled the clothes they wore back in Nohr so Beruka didn’t need much help getting in. With a satisfied huff she walked away from the mirror to grab her other gear on the table behind her. 

Just a couple days ago their group had woken up in a field with nothing on them, struggling to forage food and eating wild weeds and grasshoppers. Now, due to sheer chance, they were cooperating with what seemed to be Faerghus’ future leaders and were told to help protect the kingdom. Here, her previous skills were called for once again in order to track down a mysterious man suspected to be involved with the enemy team.

Another war, huh?

Her hand hovered over her satchel as the thought crossed her mind. Beruka had hoped since leaving Nohr she would never have to experience it again. A brief image of previous events flashed across her mind. 

Perhaps she had hoped for too much.

With a quick motion Beruka grabbed the satchel off the table and put it over her right shoulder. A small sigh left her lips before she turned to the others in the room.

“Are you ready to go?”

Sothe and Magnus have been dropped and are now available!

letters from flayn | accepting!

A small barn owl flies into Sothe’s room and promptly drops an envelope on his bed. It is properly sealed with a simple wax emblem, but can be easily opened using one’s hands if they so choose. It’s written in a neat, almost girlish cursive.

to sothe, a friend,

greetings! it has been quite some time since we last spoke, has it not? i saw you in the dining hall this morning, however i could not bring myself to greet you. you seemed to be in a terrible rush-- so much so that i found it wrong to interrupt. were you running late for something, i wonder?

well, in any case, i hope your morning was one of goodwill and joy!

though we belong in different houses-- you in the golden deer and i in the blue lions, i hope that there is still a chance for us to become closer. i find you to be a somewhat familiar presence, believe it or not. merely seeing you eases me into a state of calm, like a peaceful breeze billowing through the monastery...

if you can spare the time, perhaps we can share a meal together one day? you need not indulge me so soon, however i do hope you give me a response!

sincerely yours,

The moon hangs high in the night sky, always kept company by the countless stars that shone down on them. The night was never lonely for her---the moon was always there to keep her company as she moved about the streets of Nevassa, slowly creeping past the windows of those who slept safe inside.

It was the daytime that Micaiah feared, when she had to put on a public face, pretend to be something she wasn’t. Hide everything she was born to be and everything she resented about herself. At least until she met Sothe.

Together, life became more bearable, until she took a knife a drove it straight through the still-beating heart they shared--until she fled without a word. Micaiah never thought she’d been lonely until she was truly alone.

And now, she prepares to ascend to heights she never even dreamed of reaching--and he sets off to leave her once again. The ever-present anxiety rises to a crescendo, she wants to beg him not to leave--what right does she have to demand such things?

          the goddess’ edict : a millennium of holy history. the description of the seminar given on the flyer had seemed promising: a talk and discussion given by one of the senior monks at the monastery, well-versed in the teachings of the faith for several decades, who had taken a position as a history lecturer in his youth at the academy itself before devoting himself wholly to the goddess’ service. 

          reading it, kurthnaga had to remind himself that ‘ several decades ’ was impressive tenure for a beorc, but nevertheless, longevity had no bearing on the roles of master and student here; he came into the world beyond goldoa with an infant’s eyes, and was eager to hear how this land’s beliefs in their goddess had shaped the passage of time, whether the same sands blown by the same winds shaped different structures on different continents.

          most of the attendants, he noticed upon entering the hall, looked as foreign to fodlan as himself, though there were a handful he recognized from other classes. faith students, if he recalls correctly, and more than one of the church clergy, along with several of the infirmary staff. the speaker himself doesn’t seem to have arrived yet, and so he selects a row of seats towards the back of the room, setting his belongings on the desk

          — and no sooner than that than his name rang from a startled voice at once familiar, that carried with it the windswept memory of desert sands and a different sky.

          head turning, ruby scanning the new entrants to find a spark of forest green standing head above a smaller crowd, a face upon which surprise seems unfitting. in the short time he’d known him, youth had ever been masked by the stern lines of sobriety. 

                              kurthnaga smiles privately to himself;                               yet another instance where years amount to little more than numbers. 

          he greets the young man with a nod. ❝ sothe. how nice to see you. a familiar face is a welcome comfort in such a place. ❞

Morgan had recently had an encounter with a Brigid Brigand. They played Go Fish, cracked jokes, drank a (what Ed called) a ‘fuckin’ shit tonne’ of fresh apple juice, and even made a fun tongue twister. 

“Bring the Brigid Brigand to the Bridge’s Brig.” It was easy slow, sure, but it was much harder saying it naturally and quickly. Surprisingly Ed had a talent for tongue twisters. 

Alongside those fun moments, Ed showed Morgan how to wield a sword. As such, Morgan began to develop a mild curiosity for them... Specifically the lightning one she had seen Father wield. Perhaps she’d get one too?

Funnily enough, she had found JUST THE PERFECT MERCHANT TO BROWSE THOSE WARES! What a coincidence! She curiously browsed the magical, ancient, and super powerful fancy swords he had. They didn’t feel like magic, but perhaps the magic was within her the whole time, and that’s how they became magic.

With Lucina safely dropped off in the medical tent, Claude takes the chance to scout on what’s been happening outside of his neck of the woods. Plenty of students have already landed themselves in the medical tent, though not many from his own house (his heart swells in pride–luck seems to be smiling down on the Golden Deer house so far). Then there’s something about a fire.... Celica on one end and Sothe in another, the latter waving for him once they recognize each other. Claude is quick to come over with a reassuring smile.

A smile that lasts for only a few seconds once Sothe throws an apology at him. With a sigh Claude kneels besides his fellow student. “Listen, Sothe. You’re right. I want to win… more than just not wanting to lose.” Rhea is offering a prize, but the prize Claude has his eyes on is just to be named the winner of this thing. Before he came to Fódlan, his mother warned him that he needed to keep working twice as hard to prove himself as a worthy successor, someone capable of leading. This victory is to see the look on those Roundtable lords’ faces when they learn that the outsider that snatched their leadership position led their children to victory in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. That, and more importantly, to see pride in his grandfather’s wizened face, to assure him that he chose his heir well.

Python has been dropped and are now available!