#toaopen

“Let’s see, this should be the right place....”

With all his might, Caspar swung his axe at the training dummy in-front of him.

"Urrraaah!" A loud thunk could be heard throughout the training grounds.

Any experienced axe user could tell that Caspar’s technique needed work. Posture poor and his swing held too much force. Brute strength alone wouldn't carry him far.

Caspar wipes the sweat off his forehead. Trying to remember how long he's been here. His head throbs, making the time difficult to recall. From the way his muscles ache he briefly considers taking a break. Yet his heart resisted, dissuading him, pushing him forward.

          it’s no exaggeration to say they’d all been through a lot already, and it’s clear they had only just scraped the surface — literally. the sphere spewing fire, sara’s still badly-injured hand... she had hoped that her team had simply been unlucky, but a look at the others when they all reconvened had painted a grimmer portrait. was it too pessimistic to be relieved that at least all of them were accounted for?

          at descent’s end, they’ve paused to take five. rest, soothe the aches in their feet and anywhere else, have a simple meal of the provisions they’d brought. most importantly, orient themselves. sir aechylus could say a city beneath the ground as many times as it took, but seeing it was something else entirely. the scope, the height above the ground... it was dizzying, and more so the more she tried to fathom it.

          you shouldn’t underestimate what we’ve seen, she had assured him confidently back then. and while she still believed that, well. just when you think you’ve seen everything.

          some ways away from the others catching their breath, she stands with belle secured a bit further up. the pegasus had been even more ornery than before ever since they’d lost sight of the sky; this once, she can’t really blame him. swoosh— swoosh— like wingbeats, the slice of her naginata’s blade through the air echoes softly, hollowly, in the neck of the long corridor they had traveled down from the surface. running through drills in the downtime helps keep her mind from scattering, and it’s more useful than standing starstruck at the lip of the ledge, staring at the distant, looming metropolis.

          swoo— ❝ ah! ❞ feet hurriedly backstep, strained arm twinging sharply at the sudden effort of curbing the arc of her blade. wide eyes land on the face of one of her allies half-obscured in the darkness.

          ❝ sugar sticks — you’re not hurt, are you? you should have said something! ❞

          it’s a starless night. the kind where imagination gets ahead of itself. despite a cloudless vault of black suspended dizzyingly overhead, the glowing eye of the full moon blots out smaller pinpricks of light. the camp over which he paces first watch is silent with sleep, and there isn’t another sound to be heard but that of his own icy breath and the rhythmic crackle of his footsteps. they hadn’t been exaggerating when they said this place was a wasteland. 

          but, not completely. he’s been alert since the glimpse of something — or someone — earlier in the night, before the deepest hours had set in, too far away to identify or pursue. they’d stood still, then vanished within a minute. tribal and warlike, so he’d been told the people of this barren north were. if a native of this place, no doubt much more adept at the land than himself, had lingered in his sights for that long, he assumes it’d been intentional.

                              ❝ ... ? ❞

          though some back home might say otherwise, in truth he’s always preferred to handle things like watch on his own. but, whether owing to the unfamiliar landscape, the cold, or the now-known scrutiny of unseen eyes, the sudden sound of one of his allies' approach isn’t unwelcome. ❝ oh, hello. i didn’t think anyone else would be awake. ❞ eyes once more panning through the inky, flat darkness that encircles them, he keeps his tone calm, but clear. ❝ we’re being watched. ❞

One of the traditions they had for this type of festivity back in Ylisse was carving shapes into the skin of pumpkins before placing candles in them to makes spooky lanterns. Chrom wasn't sure if they did the same here but wanted to do it himself anyway. Maybe he'd inspire others to give it a go.

Passing by the kitchens he begged one of these orange vegetables from the chefs, promising to return the flesh for cooking. Taking it back to his room, he started the messy the task of scooping out the insides.

Once this was done, Chrom pulled out his small dagger and paused wondering what he wanted to carve on the pumpkin this year. Scary faces were traditional but he wasn't feeling that inspired.

Loooking up, he caught sight of his brand in the mirror, standing out clearly on his shoulder. Picking up the blade again, the warrior begun copying the symbol into the tough skin of the vegetable. It was crude but still recognisable by the time he'd finished.

Proud of his work, he placed a couple of candles inside before leaving the finished lantern outside his room door. Wandering down the corridor back to the kitchens, Chrom kept an eye out incase anyone else had made a lantern.

Open!

A new trend has swept over Garreg Mach in these early autumn days of the Horsebow Moon. Various notes have been springing up around campus. Some claim to be looking for love. Others simply want to yell into the void about a frustrating assignment they’ve been given. And yet others might bemoan the presence of ghosts in the monastery’s halls… The letters are many and varied. The one thing they have in common is the fact they are all anonymous, and there is an implicit understanding that discretion is required to play the game. Will you take up a mystery pen pal?

It was really hard to write this and baring her soul to a random stranger wasn't even the most difficult part. What was really difficult was trying to disguise her very distinct handwriting. It took four tries before she was able to write the entire thing out without using hearts to dot her i's! It killed her using plain black ink instead of pretty, pretty pink. Once the note was finally finished, she tied it to the stem of a pink flower in the green house with a pink ribbon.

A new trend has swept over Garreg Mach in these early autumn days of the Horsebow Moon. Various notes have been springing up around campus. Some claim to be looking for love. Others simply want to yell into the void about a frustrating assignment they’ve been given. And yet others might bemoan the presence of ghosts in the monastery’s halls… The letters are many and varied. The one thing they have in common is the fact they are all anonymous, and there is an implicit understanding that discretion is required to play the game. Will you take up a mystery pen pal?

I never got to give you your ring. It burned a hole in my pocket until one day it was too late.

You were as the moon, brighter than a sea of stars.

Why did you have to leave me so soon? We could have escaped together.

I know you would have wanted me to move on. I'm trying, really, I am.

But I saw your face not long ago, heard your voice, and it reminded me of those days we'd shared...

I'm so lost without you