#venalier

bruised, charred, vermilion flyaways out of control beneath the white-winged headband, she plants the flag of the black eagles firmly in the grass as she approaches the back of their house leader. the final horn has blown, the combatants have retreated again to the melting pot of camaraderies, enmities, and rivalries of the academy's everyday, no longer so seamlessly separated along lines of red, blue, and yellow.

it'd been a long day. a tiring day. a trying day. but the look on the sky knight's face, though it couldn't be called triumphant, was one that wore some cousin to its semblance as she reported in, claiming their black and scarlet flag for victory. the billowing fabric too, like her, had started the day proud and pristine, and now fluttered blackened and frayed in the dying wind of the day, torn in places where it'd been pierced by arrows or the victim of some other collateral damage.

"it's a shame i didn't find you out there so we could fight together this year. but i suppose that ended up working out for the best. . . " she gestures to their battered trophy with half-pride, half-humility ; here it is, it seems to say unassumingly, here i am. "as the winning——well, one of the winning houses, i'm pleased to present you with our flag. i hope i've brought the eagles pride out there today. i fought until the very end."

eyes meet the young emperor's, then, and it feels for a second like she really is looking at his majesty or one of his venerated family——royalty always have such a look about them that she can't exactly explain. "if i might suggest, next year, there should be more planning ahead of time and cohesion within the house. the lions and the deers' numbers are only growing. at the very least. . . it should be reconsidered whether latecomers are allowed to join the battlefield after things are already in motion."

"You've done our house great pride," the princess states straightforwardly. She has. That clear readiness and prowess is not only a great reflection of their house, but of her as a person. "I was watching closely. I wear glory in my heart knowing you display this flag to me with admirable might. Take this victory and carry it with you."

The flag of their house has seen more than she— Ends of weapons unassuming yet still triumphant and colored of resilience. That is the ambition of the Black Eagles. Edelgard turns towards their house's flag and feels contentment swell in body and soul. She will take this victory— this moment — and carry it. They all should. Reds and yellows glimmer against the widened sky. Looking at crimson a moment longer than she intends readies her with confident thoughts.

Her only regret is being unable to stand on that field until the very end. She, too, wishes the grass of Gronder led her afoot to her classmate's side. It hadn't, but she had watched. She was glad she did.

Still, it delights her to hear of understanding for the future. Untimely participants only means people are allowed to come and go as they please. Why is that permitted? Real battle extends no courtesy. Her head nods once. "You may be right.. —No. I know you are. Delayed arrivals reflect poorly on both students and houses as a whole."

she'd looked for andrei almost as soon as everything was over, second only to looking for sir— er, kent. ( and mostly out of shyness, if she's to be honest. but seeing that he hadn't run her off when she'd found him was enough to make her feel better about talking to him. her heart beats just a little quicker. )

"anyway, i just wanted to find you and tell you . . . because," voice quiets, " . . . you were there, that time. so, you know how it went."

the titanus. its greatsword, the size and heft of mountains. its crushing force, the oppressive weight of the limitless space around them. unconsciously, caeldori's fingers tighten in the fabric of her sleeve, recalling the cycles upon cycles she's been back there in her dreams, geometric, brilliant blue lines running perpedicular across her periphery. " . . . do you still remember all that? tagzig? that strange machine we fought in the caves together?" a soft, pinched laugh, though not entirely humorless — if only because there was little else to greet the memory with save that and despair. and maybe to be sure she wasn't the only one. to be sure she wasn't crazy.

"i wondered. well, this ' arena ' was gifted to the school by the elementals. but where do they get these monsters, these ones we've only met in nightmares and fairytales? i heard some of the others even encountered the cervid . . . "

"...I do remember."

Too well, sometimes. In those dark, sleepless nights where his past plays out in the darkness, he recalls their fight together within the cavern, yes, but then, inevitably...

(A pegasus and a brave knight of the sky, cut down from the air by one swing of a great, shadowed sword. An archer, powerless to save the life of the first person he had come to call a friend.)

And yet, just as he had been, she too is given a chance to overturn the hands of fate. The curse and blessing of this land, to repeat their battles again and again and again, and perhaps, given fortitude, to find a different outcome. Andrei's voice is quiet, tremulous beneath the weight of the emotion pressing upon his words as he speaks next.

"But you've now emerged victorious. You faced the same peril, and you've overcome, this time."

He's struck, then, with the mad urge to reach out, to place his hand upon hers, as though to remind her, to remind himself, that she is still here. That what had happened in the past in this strange land is capable of being overturned, that their memories were all that's left of that time. That yes, they had faced it together, and that they would continue to face what comes in the future.

Except... no. The thought recoils from his mind nearly as soon as it enters. Caeldori is not Edain, not family for him to childishly cling to when his weakness dictates it. She is not even Lady Deirdre, to whom the trappings of etiquette seem all but meaningless. Caeldori is also of noble upbringing, and the thought of such an action will always be an absurd one. Has a few short years in Fódlan stripped him even of the propriety that he'd once taken such pride in?

The other topic she brings up is much safer (and truly, why did he not stick with this to begin with?), and after an unsteady pause, he latches onto it with the haste of one struggling to find solid ground to stand upon.

4. a memory of a sibling ( also asked by @rockroselazuli )

Nel was always so gentle. Her eyes, her attention, her reassurances- he could see how much Nil loved her. Why he never wanted to hurt her; the strongest hatchling of their brood who defied expectation, who couldn't be Father's true successor in cruelty because she wouldn't- couldn't- put her fangs on her twin.

Because in Nel's every act, he could see that Nil was loved, too.

Night fell and with it a sweep of wings, encompassing them both using only half-second adjustments to account for Rafal. How smooth and practiced the movement was, like the space between her body and her wings had always been for Nil to sleep in. But Rafal was no different from a cuckoo bird chick, kicking away the broken pieces of her most precious egg and replacing it with himself. A living piece of pyrite- fool's gold- who wasn't and couldn't be the truest, realest thing.

He was an imposter, but nevertheless this was Rafal's place now. He was Nil now. And Nil wouldn't have needed to ask.

Sensing his cue- his part to play in the expectant silence- he laid down to rest in the ring of her body. Fighting not to flinch at the chilly graze of her scales, or the harsh sounds of her breathing through a barrel chest, until eventually he didn't need to fight at all. What he thought had been cold faded to warmth the longer he waited, thawed by the heat of scaled surfaces that enclosed tighter around him. Those sharp scales themselves weren't dangers; they were protection.

Arranging himself in a fetal position for comfort, his eyes traveled in the dim light filtered through her blue patagium. Side to side, up and down, anywhere he looked was Nel. The sight that Nil had seen more than anyone; the sight that only he could see, like Nel was his entire world. Everything from four walls to a sky.

Friendship bracelets are making a resurgence, but this time, lance wielders are tying them to the shafts of their weapons to show off their popularity. Join the cool kids and decorate your lance with some sick new threads. [Grants Lance +1]

     “How fared you on your mission?”             (In hindsight, perhaps he should’ve gleaned the unspoken answer from her expression alone, before the question even left his lips.)

     He hadn’t exactly received a favorable response, but it was only fair. He had none to give in return, either.

     And somehow, they were still here, while the hands of the clock marched ever onward this time.

     (What did that mean?)

     He’d thought he’d understood his penance, the fate to repeat a life of fighting and suffering and death ad infinitum with no respite in sight. He’d confirmed it, when the time had turned back after the previous year. Had almost come to expect it this time.

     (It wasn’t to be that easy. If he could figure it out, would it not lessen the weight of that which bound him? Uncertainty was, in itself, a punishment.)

     It was all too easy to lose himself in wallowing hypotheticals, to spend days as though still within that initial haze after he had awoken on the beach of Almeiira. And yet still, he wasn’t completely unaware of the goings-on in the monastery, discussions of the year ahead, plans and classes, odd gossip and fads still managed to reach him, even as he remained as removed from the crowds as possible.

     How odd, that people still find the chance to be lighthearted, to find new ways to entertain themselves, even after this turn of events.

     How odd of him, to partake in it.

     Fingers clutching a handful of string — a larger strand of crimson jumping out among the varied colors — Andrei sought out Caeldori in one of the quieter afternoons since their return, a distance away from the gaze of others at the monastery. Perhaps, in truth, they cared too little about him for true distain to take root... but he disliked the feeling of being exposed under their gaze all the same.

     (There was still pride left in him, it seemed.)

     He offered the string to her. “Do you know how to make... bracelets?” he asked, feeling the question itself to be a bit foolish. Unlike him. To chase after silly fads as these, without a guarantee that she would be interested or knowledgeable on the matter... Well, it might take her mind off the circumstances of the mission, if nothing else.

     (How odd, that he would want to try for her sake.)

     Their steps echoed, uncomfortably loud, in the oddly glowing tunnel, and Andrei found his voice silenced on their way forward. He wasn’t nervous, he told himself - their excursion to the edge of the city had proven Caeldori a capable partner when facing potential danger, and his earlier exhaustion from the skirmish at the surface had faded in the face of their forward momentum, but at the same time, the unsettling atmosphere seemed to emphasize the importance of caution.

     The silence only lasted until they were shortly out of sight of the entrance, where their other teammates were waiting for the scouts’ returning report. There was a sudden, low sound, muffled but distinct from their footsteps, and Andrei stilled, turning towards the other with a look of concentration. “Do you hear...?” he never got to finish the question. With a very brief crescendo of rumbling behind them in the tunnel--

     --then a startling crash, and a section of the ceiling behind them peeled off from the rest, rubble raining down to flood their retreating path before Andrei even had a chance to react.

     His heart pounded with adrenaline with what felt like the dozenth time today, whirling around to stare at the impenetrable wall of debris behind them. He should’ve foreseen this, honestly. There was a reason this was the only intact-looking tunnel when they walked in. The only silver lining was that the rubble had stopped flowing a distance away from them, rendering them safe, though only for the moment. If more of the ceiling caved in, that could easily change.

     “...we’ll have to go, and quickly,” he said, voice little more than an urgent whisper as his gaze locked onto Caeldori’s once more, “The others should be safe as long as they didn’t disregard the plan and follow after us, but we won’t be until we leave this area.” Cut off from the other half of their team and without any means of communication, it seemed there was no way to go but forward.

A flock of winged creatures with beautiful tassel-like feathers have been spotted nesting near monastery grounds. Most have never seen these animals before, but students from Nohr and Hoshido have been calling them “kinshi.” Apparently, these giant birds are common mounts back in Hoshido. Perhaps you’d like to tame one for yourself… [Grants Flying +1]

‘......Then the kinshi landed light upon the great yumi of the Jinmu Ten’ou, and from its body emitted golden lightning, dazzling Nagasunehiko’s men and leading the eastbound army onwards to triumph......... In modern day, they can be tamed as mounts, most often used by the knights of the Kingdom of Hoshido, to which these birds are native. Successfully form a bond with one - a more difficult prospect than with most other mounts - and it may gift you with one of its shed feathers, which is said to grant protection from enemies and victory in battle......’

                                                                            ........

     The road looked recently trodden, likely from others in the monastery heading out at the rumors of the flock of creatures. Now though, with the sun not yet visible over the horizon and the chill of the night still hanging in the air, the path was deserted, and Andrei set off at a slow pace, using the walk to settle his swirling thoughts.

     This was not a planned outing; while he’d done research on the mounts of Hoshido even before word of the kinshi flock had spread, Andrei had not been entirely interested in seeing them for himself. There was no point, he told himself firmly, as he certainly did not have plans to get close to any other flying creature. The one that appeared in his nightmares, falling alongside its rider, would be both the first and the last.

     ...Ironically, it was one such nightmare that brought him to this path now, the early morning air chasing the last dregs of panic from his mind and pushing him to make a decision. Should he turn back now, ready himself for the rest of the day now that his thoughts have settled, or did he wish to see the path through to the end, to catch a glimpse of the creatures that had caused such intrigue among the students?

     In the end, he supposed there was still some curiosity left in him. He just wouldn’t get close — which might be a wise decision regardless, as the scroll he read had said little about the times that these creatures are typically active, and they could well take badly to being startled awake by an intruder.

     Not halfway down the road, however, Andrei stilled at the sound of someone approaching from a distance, gripped by the urge to head back after all. He didn’t feel like he had enough energy for pleasantries, if it came to conversation. He turned—

     (a blur of crimson, falling against a backdrop of endless black, even the strongest conviction in her gaze extinguished by a cruel swing of a shadowed sword)

     Andrei shoved those thoughts away. They didn’t matter, she was alive now, everyone from that mission was, there was no reason for whatever lingering feeling (and what was it? grief? for someone he’d barely known, when he could muster none for the foretold death of his own son? don’t be so pathetic) to continue. “...Caeldori,” he said, trapped. He’d avoided her in the weeks after returning to the monastery for good reason — now that he was face to face with her, he had little idea how to approach this conversation without everything swirling within him threatening to brim over. He wouldn’t — couldn’t — let that happen.

     His hands were shaking again.

pluck. "i'll be happy like them one day." pluck. "no i won't." pluck. "i'll be happy like them one day." pluck.

only one petal remained.

"no i. . . won't?! ugh. . . so it really is hopeless."

Perfect Teatime? | still accepting

Ordinarily, Salem wouldn't have concerned himself with something like this. He had never been in the habit of poking his nose into other people's business unless he had to, and here in Garreg Mach he was (mostly) free of an Archbishop's lofty expectations. So he really doesn't know what compels him to do what he does now, except maybe the way the girl had sighed so heavily that it had nearly fluttered the pages of his book.

Still pretending to be the disinterested stranger that he had been just a few seconds ago, Salem lifts his eyes to scan the courtyard for the "them" that has brought this girl such despair. It doesn't take him long to find them. In the center of the entire garden, occupying the table beneath the central gazebo, a pair of students coo softly to one another as they gaze into each other's eyes. There are four chairs arranged around the table, but the lovebirds have chosen two right next to each other so that they don't have to reach as far to brush a strand of hair from one's eyes, or rub a thumb across a cheek. They are infatuated with each other, that much is certain.

Closing his book, Salem slides his chair a little closer to the redheaded young woman who stares forlornly at the flower she's mangled.

self-indulgent meme | Accepting!

What happened indeed?

Mitama tenses as the hand settles on her shoulder. Tenses, but does not flinch away. She is...not good at this. She suspects none of them are, except maybe the younger members of their group who still had the good fortune of being coddled, even as they journeyed to battlefields.

She should answer Caeldori. She means to. She opens her mouth in an attempt to speak and share her thoughts, but ends up getting stuck on the words. Rather than emerge, they get stuck in her throat and stick there like a lump. She is normally so verbose. The dusk must be finally overtaking the dawn.

If she cannot answer with words, then...Caeldori is right. She hates the idea of being seen like this, but she hates the idea of worrying Caeldori needlessly more. A moment's hesitation is all she allows herself before she turns and wraps her arms around her friend's shoulders. She pulls her in to hide her face against her before she has a chance to see it.

"Sorry." She mumbles. Why is it easier to speak now that she is hidden away, like a coward? "Just...just a moment please."