#valaskjlf

The cathedral is quiet this early in the morning, peaceful in a way it isn’t when it’s bustling with locals, students and clergy alike. Mercedes doesn’t mind the latter, there’s something so joyful about seeing people gathered here together. Just after sunrise however, there’s a particular stillness that makes her prayers feel more intimate. That her communion is with the goddess alone.

After a few minutes of giving her daily thanks, Mercedes rose to her feet. There were plenty of chores to be getting on with today. As she makes to leave, she notices an unfamiliar presence. A young man, sat in silence. The first thing she notices is the fraying of his sleeves, something she can fix in a jiffy. The second is the mask and it leaves her feeling winded, just for a moment.

He is clearly neither Jeritza nor her dear, sweet Emile but she finds she can’t turn away. Mercedes finds herself pulled in like a marionette on a string. He is a stranger. He is not her brother but the similarity goes deeper than just the mask. There’s something about him, in his aura. She can almost feel the sorrow clinging to him and so she sits beside him, waiting for his attention to turn to her.

“Good morning,” Mercedes is all honeyed smiles as she regards him thoughtfully. The cleric points to his sleeve before pulling out a tiny sewing kit she kept in her bag for times like this. “I haven’t seen you here before. My name is Mercedes. Would you allow me to fix that for you?”

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Legend has it, any who chance to sit beneath the boughs of the old willow tree at the far back of the courtyard fall subject to a curious charm: they find their tongues tied if they should attempt to speak a lie, and they find themselves compelled to obey any instruction given them by another party, no matter how silly or untoward. Most sensible students diligently avoid this tree lest they find themselves put under its spell, but some braver souls take up a seat - after all, it’s the perfect place for a high stakes game of truth or dare. Is the legend true, however, or is it merely a matter of vain pride? [grants Reason +1]

     “Do you know about the old willow tree in the courtyard—the one all the way in the back? Supposedly if you sit under its branches, you end up unable to say anything that’s a lie. That’s not all, either. You have to do anything someone else tells you to, even if it’s humiliating. It’s probably just a rumor, but people stay away from it just in case...”

     It is something to consider, if nothing else. The classmate who had spoken of it during their noontime meal dismissed it as hearsay, but rumors often contain some degree of truth to them. There is a very real possibility that there is more to the tree in question than appearances might suggest; a spell cast upon it, perhaps, or something of similar nature. Conversely it may be just that—a tale spun to get a rise out of others and nothing more. There’s certainly no shortage of those to go around, with people often eager to gossip when they can.

     That it is still early into the autumn season means the days remain pleasantly warm, the late afternoon sun—suspended low in the sky but not so much as to touch the horizon yet—a welcome companion to have during a quiet walk across less traveled paths. For all the moons that have come and gone since he first passed through the gates to the monastery, there often seem to be spaces he’s only just discovering the existence of; easily overlooked and seemingly isolated from the world at large. The kinds of places one might use to share a fleeting moment with a close friend, perhaps. ( a fantasy that could even be entertained, if he were of the mind to pursue it. ) Such things are more valuable to others than himself, though; he thus leaves them for someone else to find and continues on his way.

     Askran prince’s steps are eventually drawn toward the courtyard of a curiosity seeking satisfaction, wanting to at least see the rumored tree for himself before the day’s end. Cobalt irises find it easily enough as described, curtain-like foliage distinct from those planted elsewhere within the grounds, but so too do they also notice the lone figure near the tree’s base as a result. Tall, well-built, with hair the color of silver...

     Alfonse realizes, with far too much clarity in that singular instant of frozen time, exactly who it is standing on the opposite end of the courtyard.

     Slowly, he takes a step forward. Then another. Again and again, until he’s closed the distance to stop a scant meter from the man. His face feels numb, as if it has forgotten how to emote; caught in the realization of just how long it has been since they last parted ways. How long since he’s seen anything of his old friend at all, clinging to the hope of a promise yet unfulfilled. ( far longer than the calendars say, for certain. )

     “...Zacharias...?”

Lidiya had vanished in a flash of bright light, intent upon defiance until the very end.

They had been wrong about Mercury’s identity but not his affiliation. There was precious little time to ruminate over the matter though. Lidiya had revealed herself and disappeared, leaving them to make chase through the villa. In the chaos, the group had been separated. Although given the vast scale of the villa and the fact Lidiya could disappear and reappear at will, perhaps that was to their benefit. At least they could cover more distance in smaller groups than as a baker’s dozen roaming blindly about.

Mercedes found herself with Bruno and Kana, near the wall of one of the villa’s smaller chalet-style buildings. She smiled, despite the tension in the air. This was turning out to be the complete opposite of a peaceful summer break in Enbarr.

“Well, at least I know I’m in good hands,” Mercedes said, glancing between the two young men beside her. She knew both to be kind and reliable - Bruno in a quieter way than their young swordsman. They had both more than earned her trust and she would do whatever she could for them. “I’ll do my best to keep us safe. There’s a door ahead - perhaps we should check inside?”

The priest took light, tentative steps forwards, hugging the exterior wall. Her breath was caught in her throat, terrified to breathe too deeply and give them away. If they were attacked and assaulted because of her carelessness - oh, she didn’t think she could survive the guilt. Instead she lead the way, sneaking forwards and keeping an ear out for any signs of movement coming from inside or around them.

@valaskjlf

Help a little girl, Charlotte had thought. You need some good energy in your life after Merceus. Charlotte grumbled to herself as she hefted the ladder up against the wall. Besides, it’s a cat, how bad could it be?

Charlotte was definitely not a pet person was what she was learning from this entire experience. The ladder was rickety enough that it shook a little as she climbed it, but she managed to make her way onto the roof of the stable the cat was hiding out on with little difficulty.

The cat in question had dodged every attempt Charlotte had made so far at catching it before scampering its way up onto the stables. Charlotte had been inclined to let it go at this point; clearly it didn’t want to be caught. But the kid had looked at her with big, sad eyes and ugh. Whatever.

The cat was staring at her with big eyes from where it sat, making itself as small as possible and lifting its back up as though ready to book it again. “Uh...shhh...here, kitty kitty....It’s okay.” 

Charlotte moved slowly towards it, extending her hand as she moves. Its eyes dart back from her, to her her hand, to her. When Charlotte has the eyes on her, she suddenly moves quickly, grabbing for the cat.

No dice.

The cat shrieks and Charlotte shrieks back as she feels sharp claws against her hand. “Oh you sonuva- Hey!”

"Sharena."

He cannot help the small smile that goes alongside the name. So long had he avoided her that seeing her again, though in unfavorable circumstances, brought some relief to the prince. This comfort would be fleeting, though. A few moments more and his feelings would be driven to conflict and thoughts to scatter.

Fists clench. He would not let that happen. Ought to make this quick, then.

"I hear you're also leaving on a mission. I won't fret over you like Alfonse might— I know you've grown to be a formidable lancer since I was away."

He looks to her, gaze focused on her sharp, green eyes. Ever happy, ever hopeful; it is his silent prayer that whatever she faces won't take away the sparkle in them. His hands fiddle with themselves. He's tempted to ruffle her hair like he used to, or put a hand on her shoulder and squeeze, but he is too coward to do either.

"Be well." The words feel foreign on his Emblian tongue, and it takes nails digging into his palm to keep him from taking them back, "I hope to… see you again by the end of this…"

          her room doesn’t appear as if it had been touched.  not by the slightest, but sharena knows the items she’s pulled out and set into her equipment bag.  necessities.  nothing that will weigh the trip down.  but there are some things that can weigh someone down without being physically there.  a memory, last touch, maybe even parting words.  sharena sighs and allows her shoulders to lower, only for a moment, before she’s back at her feet with a smile on her face.  her bag swung over her shoulder as she leaves her dorm room; one more glance back at the interior which will not be her last.

          she's free of everything that pulls her out of focus—

          —and yet she finds her feet have stuck themselves to the ground at the utter familiarity of the voice behind her.  she’s heard him before.  the hallway is empty, students either at the front of the monastery or... or...

          sharena turns around, her grip on the bag losing its firmness.   “   bruno?   ”   the recoil of her own voice is immediate, furrowed brows and pursed lips; confusion and awkwardness in its purest form.   “   i mean... zacharias.   ”   he’s here.  standing before her and smiling, ever so small the expression.  but this heavy feeling sinking into her stomach is only temporary.  sadness is only temporary in such a bright hearted princess.  the bag falls to the floor   —   a carelessness in whatever items she had previously placed in there   —   and she’s quick to close the distance between them.

          but it stops there.  her arms outstretched to wrap around his waist but she doesn’t move any further.  a hug would be too much, right?  a hug might mean something that it isn’t; her arms fall back to her sides, hands stuffed into the pockets of the jacket tied around her waist.

          sharena nods, fingers twitching in her jacket.  her smile cannot be contained as easily, though.  she laughs, small and slightly embarrassed, but she doesn’t retaliate against the bit of praise.  you’d be surprised at what i’ve learned, is something she could say.  something she maybe should say, and she tries to leave the response in the curl of her lips before her voice slips from between.

          “   i have!  i even made a new technique that—”   i’d love to show you.   “—uh, well, it’s a lot of twirling but it looks cool!   ”

          gloved hands curl into fists in her pockets, she looks away from bruno’s gaze.  that is... until he speaks again.  through pauses and strain that she can very well see, if not hear, in his voice.  but blame cannot be placed or else titled as hypocrisy.  she doesn’t let him turn away without an embrace; it feels wrong to.  so, she steps forward and quickly wraps her arms around his waist before she can convince herself not to.  the hug is quick, cowardly, easily released.  sharena steps back and goes back to stuffing her hands in her pockets.