This one is like really really old that i never posted es jim in daylight armor

[ Ethereal Ball 2020 info post ]

ASK MEMES

Give my muse something to eat or drink...

Champagne: Imported from the western shores of the Adrestrian Empire, the school purchases 70 bottles of this stuff well in advanced for this day alone. The bartenders are under strict orders not to offer any student more than one glass.

Sparkling Water: Fresh spring water that has been magically carbonated. Served with a squeeze of lime or a dash of one of the many fruit syrups available at the bartender's disposal. 

Coffee: More specifically, a mocha brewed with Almyran coffee beans and Dagdan chocolate and served with hot milk. A sweeter variation of the drink taking Fódlan by storm. 

Tea: Just what it says on the tin! The only teas offered are Mint, Bergamot, Sweet-Apple Blend, Albinean Berry Blend, and Southern Fruit Blend, wrapped in small tea bags. Clever students bring their own tea.

Water: The liquid of life, the quencher of thirst. Served in crystalline glasses. And what's more dramatic than throwing water at someone's face!

Spaghetti and meatball: A lovers' portion of freshly-made spaghetti cooked in the monastery's famous tomato sauce. The titular, singular meatball sits in the center, waiting for one lucky person to have their lover roll it to them with their nose as an offering.

Sweet Bun Trio: A selection of traditional Faerghus pastries, all small enough to be eaten in one delicious bite! The first bun is filled with sweet cream and topped with icing and a candied cherry. The second is a sweet roll filled with almonds, pecans, and dried cranberries and glazed with honey. The third is a bun sliced in half, filled with almond paste and whipped cream, dusted with powdered sugar on top.

Pomegranate: A newcomer to the Ethereal Ball's menu, a simple bowl of pomegranate seeds. No one in the staff is quite sure how these are supposed to be served, only that you better not spit the pits out on the floor!

Mint candy: For when your breath isn't as fresh as newly-fallen snow.

Interact with my muse...

send 💌to invite my muse to the Goddess Tower

send 👀to accidentally find my muse at the Goddess Tower

send 🏃to sneak off and explore the monastery together

send 👗to compliment my muse’s outfit

send 🚨for my muse to call the fashion police on your muse

send 👂to pass along a rumor your muse has heard about someone else

or make up your own!

Dance with my muse...

send 💃to ask my muse for a dance

send 🙇for my muse to ask yours for a dance

send 👯to teach my muse a new dance

send 😃for my muse to make your muse laugh with a silly dance

@amnesiac-pawn

Gerome needed to pause for a moment.

While he manages to participate in the ball to the best of his abilities... he needed to breathe. He fills too stiff in formal clothing, even if it didn’t vary from his usual ones. It was fortunate the monastery had ‘uniforms’ for formal occasions. He was never one for fashion anyway. That, and there was 1 of 20 familiar faces -- if not more -- in the crowd and while not pressured to socialize, it was self-imposed. Why stay, after all?

But he does promise to do so... in time. After this break, he promises. If he could just have a few minutes away from the merriment and be recharged by the peace that silence brings... then he can compose himself and go back. 

So he goes out. Or attempts to, at least. 

Just as he was about to exit the event area, he nearly bumps into a familiar face. Funny how in his attempt to find solace somewhere in this monastery, he finds him.

Well, he does have a promise to keep, even if he didn’t really make one.

"Maybe so," Hubert tentatively agreed. The coffee was still too sweet for his liking, but voicing that would be contrarian. And the last thing he wanted was someone questioning him about why he was drinking so much of it if he didn't even like it.

Some people preferred the champagne. Hubert chose the coffee to help him through the night.

Still, Leon's excitement coaxed out a smile despite the chocolate in his drink, and his eyes scanned the crowd for Celica and the others from Valentia as they were mentioned.

"Even for those of us who are well-acquainted with events like these, the monastery's arrangement has made this one distinctly unique." Although it wasn't exactly an answer to Leon's question about whether or not Hubert was enjoying the ball, it would be the closest he'd get. "But... it is a taste of Fódlan. I'm glad to hear that you and Lady Celica are enjoying yourselves."

He glanced down toward Leon, curiosity dispelling some of the brooding shadows from his face.

starter for @amnesiac-pawn

Chatter about the expected White Heron Cup continued to float about the monastery. Inigo did his best to hide his excitement, but even he couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed every time he word mention of the dance.

Or the rapid beat of his heart. Balls had no place during their time, and he’s fairly certain he’d remember attending one as a child. Even after the war, everyone’s focus turned to rebuilding.

Attending one would be a new experience, a normal experience. Inigo could use a little normalcy in his life at this point.

In the months leading up to this, he’d done his best to gather every scrap of information possible. Outfits, dances, traditions. Everything was in place now, with some help from Cynthia in regards to his clothes. And he’d have no trouble sweeping a lady off her feet and onto the dance floor. In theory, at least. Inigo rationalized that fancy elegant noble dancing was a far cry from his usual. And really, there was only girl worth asking to dance with.

Inigo shifted his weight and carefully considered his course of action. Staring at Morgan’s closed door wasn’t helping. The two always came to each other for advice; so what made this so different? Before he could keep second guessing himself, Inigo knocked on his little brother’s door.

TOA Ball Starter for @gallantgautier

There was something about the energy on the dance floor. The searching a crowd for the one you desire, the adrenaline as you made eye contact, the hammering of your heart and as you felt the irresistible pull-

“Sylvain.” Lorenz turned sharply on his heels, making a beeline for Sylvain once their eyes locked. He was dressed to the best House Gloucester could offer in a long purple tailcoat, a waistcoat embroidered with flowers, and a fresh red rose tucked in his buttonhole by his collar. Golden cufflinks, a court rapier at his side, immaculate appearance, and a demeanor that towered over most other men was a recipe for overconfidence.

It was a sad thing to say that Kana was used to living his life without his parents around.

Despite the fact that Kana has spent more time with his parents in the few short years since the war’s end compared to every visit he received while living in his Deeprealm combined, it still felt almost natural to be left without their guidance. It was a wretched feeling, one that filled his soul with pain and made his gut twist in the most agonizing way when he thought too deeply about it, but this loneliness was an old, familiar friend that the little dragon wasn’t entirely keen on pushing away.

The Ethereal Ball helped him to forget. With everyone dressed to the nines—himself included, his kimono and matching haori glimmering with golden threads—and basking in the festivities, it was easy to lose himself in the light. 

His senses were overwhelmed. All of the different foods, perfumes, and natural scents invaded his nose; the bright colors of everyone’s clothing mixed with the lights of the room hurt his eyes, just a bit; so many people speaking so loudly in the same area made his ears ring. Kana tried to tune it out, but as time went on, he found it harder and harder to focus. It was so unlike the balls he was used to at home, where there was normally one or two main styles of dress, and people were often quiet in their dialogue. Not this raucous screaming of teenagers living it up under the watchful eye of the goddess.

Kana adored it, but at the very same time, wanted nothing more than to slip away and imagine he was instead performing the traditional dances of his home than the dizzying spinning and fast-paced movements of his peers. 

Silk-gloved hands wipe at blurred eyes, head shaking back and forth in an attempt to recenter himself. For a moment, the cacophony dips in volume, and he can hear something like an old friend whisper in his ear.

Turn around.

Little prince smells the other before he sees him.

The crowd practically parts, but his feet are moving before he can even discern the other’s identity.

“Papa!” 

Grey eyes lock with the archduke’s “sleeping” facade. Even thirteen years into his life, Kana doesn’t know how his father walks around with his eyes closed like that. 

“Papa!” 

Tiny arms fly around his father’s waist, face burying into his torso. With a deep breath, the overwhelming sensations of the ball leave him, only to be replaced with the scent of a familiar perfume and the warmth of a loved one. 

( The loneliness fades; an old friend taking a journey. For now, this is goodnight—and not goodbye. )