#tobenobility

TANK BUILD : DC13, 3 HP

          if not for the greeting, he doubts he would be so fortunate. the jovial call primes him just enough to catch the whistle of an arrow from the same direction, and honed muscle memory pulls him into a roll before looking to identify his assailant or even thinking about it.

DODGE : 13, success! ( leif’s hp : 3 / 3 )

         he’s back up, sword in hand, with an exhilarated expression. eager to put the bad taste in his mouth from the dark mage behind him, he pushes powerfully off one foot into a fierce charge at his opponent cloaked in red, every bit as vehement as if this were a fight for his life, as if the wooden sword in his hand were tyrfing itself.

         ❝ may the better warrior win! ❞

No opponents had dropped in front of her in over an hour. So naturally, she assumed the battle was over. And this tree provided such nice cover from the sunlight! Not that she had much to feast upon at the moment. The bread and jerky she’d packed are a far cry from the typical fare she usually enjoyed. 

She thought that in coming to this academy, she would have left army rations behind. 

Oh. Her pouch was…empty? Ugh, perhaps she should head back to the Golden Deer camp–

A man’s voice broke through her repast. The battle was still going?!?! Who narrated their attacks? 

[Dodge roll: 18] 

Not hard to avoid an attack that was explicitly forwarned. She abandoned her empty snack pouch and ducked. The arrow sailed overhead, landing harmlessly in the grass. Ilyana stood, thunder forming in the air above Ferdinand. 

“You talk too much.” 

Reporting to Lady Edelgard | not accepting

“Ferdinand.” Curt. Forced out between teeth, without the honor of his full name. To any bystander, it would sound like the name of an insect crushed beneath an uncaring boot, or a vitriolic insult, and Hubert’s face contorts with disgust as he reads over the paper.

PROS:

We are Ferdinand Von Aegir

They get along with each other so well but especially on Lorenz’s part, Ferdinand can help him grow

Hardworking, diligent, loyal, strong nobles can only resound off each other and become exponentially more noble right?

Power couple???? Maybe

Lorenz is smitten already

What about this isn’t perfect

Lorenz will play with post skip Ferdinand’s hair if Ferdinand likes that sort of thing

So many activities they could do together 

Should Ferdinand need someone with just a little bit more height Lorenz will allow himself to be used to get things off of too high of shelves

CONS:

there aren’t any

Actually Lorenz can’t sing so that’s Ferdiie’s problem

Where would they live? In the Emipre? Leicester? They’re both so tied to their territories. Is it long distance and destined to be melancholy love letters of longing written months apart only to be opened from weathered envelopes?

Apparently Lorenz says things like the sentence above

starter for @tobenobility

          the looks of the wretched and displaced are unfortunately no stranger to the fraldarius heir, but he purses his lips at the sight of them anyway. he watches each one pass by, their expressions as disparate as the pieces of their homes that lay strewn about the mud in the wake of the flood, but each as heavy as the last.

          it’s a common sight in faerghus these recent years, in the wake of the duscur tragedy. a kingdom without a king is as a body without its head, lacking control over its limbs and functions. and the current regent is a contemptible layabout, content to use his status as an interim as merely that — an excuse to wait for dimitri to come of age and do nothing in the meantime.

          these hollow faces and the shocked silence — they were there each time he fended off a raid, or arrived too late in the aftermath of one. they never change, regardless of time or place.

          ❝ i’ll help. ❞ he steps up to an older man, clearly past his prime, trying to tow along a shabby farmhouse wheelbarrow laden with salvaged belongings, struggling as others pass him by with their own burdens. the sludge-like consistency of the wet ground hardly provides any support, and the wheels sink past their axles, barely even spinning. with a grunt, he takes up the handles in both arms, ignoring the man’s tired words of gratitude.

Starter for @tobenobility

“My card is full. Sorry.” But the apology was absent from her voice. Hubert raised from his bow to catch the accompanying smile, barely more than a grimace, before she was absorbed back into the crowd. His hand dropped from in front of his heart. He was getting tired of hearing that.

A pair of girls nearby, with evidently more time than the first to find their partners, gossiped loudly over the orchestra’s warmup: “My father said he always knew House Vestra was full of traitors.”

He was getting tired of hearing that, too, and though it made indignation bubble into his throat and his fingernails dig grooves into his palms, he simply walked away from them. Out of earshot. Because fighting the rumors and the hearsay had gotten him nothing but a wound to his pride. Fools can believe what they want, he kept telling himself. It did not matter whether they thought his father had always harbored hate for the Emperor, or was so weak-willed that he bent his knee to anyone with an enticing enough offer. In the end, he had acted no differently than all the other power-hungry nobles whose children now had no scarcity of opinions on the matter.

It was what Hubert tried to convince himself, anyway.

The warmup left a wake of silence over the ballroom floor as all the young nobles finally settled into place and awaited the first notes of the waltz they were to perform. Hubert watched from the sidelines with a dark scowl that caused those who happened to meet his eyes to quickly look away again as if they had not seen him. They were right to think that his anger was directed at them, but it was directed equally at his father who had insisted on his attendance. “You are still obligated to make favorable connections with other nobles,” he had said, but Hubert suspected that his intent had been to humiliate him instead. He had earned nothing more than half a dance in the three hours since his arrival - with a girl who had left him abruptly after she asked about his Crest - and an endless barrage of gossip.

At last the clarinets sent the couples spinning off together around the dance floor. Hubert reached a hand up to his forehead and worked his fingers through the wax that his handmaids had insisted on using to keep his hair out of his eyes. It was the current trend, everyone who was anyone had their hair cut and styled just so, they had said. “And it suits everyone.” But Hubert knew his servants well enough to notice the uncertainty in the glance they had exchanged with one another.

He dragged out his bangs and let his hair fall across his forehead in stiff, unkempt waves. To hell with the trends. And to hell with this ball.

A sudden burst of laughter drew his attention to a crowd that had gathered in a cluster to the side of the main floor, encircling—

Hubert lifted his chin to peer over the heads at what had captured such an audience. Frowning, he edged closer. And closer. And then a head of orange sprung up from the center and sent another ripple of laughter around the circle. Hubert exhaled sharply through his nose and dropped back onto his heels. The fury he had been restraining all evening unlocked a dozen thoughts, all honed to knife points with one target: the Prime Minister’s son.

He crossed his arms and folded in on himself as he glared from the outside of the ring at the boy who had - as Hubert saw it - once more thrown tradition to the wayside to ignore the waltz and create his own dance. A dance that, as it seemed, allowed him a number of eager partners all at once. It was clear that he was the king of the ball, just short of a crown upon his head, and Hubert clawed his fingers into his palms in frustration. He did not deserve the attention. He was the reason Edelgard was not there. He was the reason House Vestra had become nothing more than glorified jailers. He was—

“Ferdinand von Aegir,” Hubert spat when the circle at last released the other boy. “Enjoying ill-gotten popularity. Seems you’re exactly like your father.”

He stepped up closer, standing straighter to tower over him.

Starter for @tobenobility

If there was one person in all of Garreg Mach Lorenz truly respected, it was Ferdinand Von Aegir. Even hearing his name made Lorenz cheerful- how lovely it was to share not only a school and social status with such a brilliantly zealous and upbeat noble, but to be assigned rooms as neighbors! Truly the goddess was working in their favor.

Lorenz hummed absently as he sifted through his tea collection with concentration. The idea of getting to spend time with Ferdinand made his heart beat faster- with the eagerness of getting to be in the presence of someone deserving of his utmost respect. Lorenz could, as odd a phrase it was, relax into his own nobility, intricate social webs fading into the backdrop of the world surrounding them so he could pass the time basking in friendship, as opposed to society.

There was, however, a wrench thrown in this plan.

“Oh no, how could I be so absentminded!?” Lorenz was to host Ferdinand for tea, and yet had managed to procure more Bergamot, instead of Ferdinand’s favorite Southern Fruit Blend. While they may have similar bright notes, Ferdinand would notice the difference in aroma before he even noticed the taste. It would be a great shame to host a guest he knew so well without his preferred brew, and he was due to entertain Ferdinand in minutes (fifteen minutes to be precise, which meant Ferdinand was likely going to burst into the room in five).

Perhaps, Ferdinand could find it in his noble heart to allow Lorenz to spin the situation into another category of time spent together. Lorenz couldn’t bear the idea of disappointing Ferdinand even in the most insignificant degree. To have someone he looked up to so much be slighted by his own lack of attention to detail was abhorrent. He walked next door to Ferdinand’s room and pushed his bashfulness aside.

How to speak of a flower

That outshines the sun

A Prince Charming on my mind

When my day is done

How to court one so graceful

He is second to none

A bright glimpse of perfection

And my heart is won

How to request a dance

When it’s he who can so sweetly sing

I must be humble to ask,