#vonochs

Reason and Faith band together to put on this month’s special seminar: the history of tasseomancy! You will be learning the “magic” behind divination and how the old masters used the remains of tea leaves and coffee grounds to predict future events. Just in time for the moon of love, you will all be divining your romantic futures from a delicious cup of white rose tea. [Grants Reason or Faith +1]

“Of course my predictions are accurate! Watch, mortal: I shall perform a divination before your very eyes! Then will you see that my powers are a thousand thousand percent legit!”

Odin doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing.

He was there during the seminar--showed up, signed his name on the attendance and all--but mentally? he was the furthest thing from present. One word about the mystical ability to read the future from tea lines and he was off, thinking up his next lucrative scheme. You see, Odin was more concerned with what he’d do with the power than the power himself. Or how to even practice tasseomancy, or any of its specifics. Instead of writing notes detailing which beans to brew he was doodling up his next big scene--coming up with all the different lines he’d shout when foretelling a battle.

What he does is a disgrace to the art, because again, he doesn’t actually know the steps. He has with him everything he needs: water, freshly boiled; the sample teas given to everyone to try a reading with; a cup to brew it in; and an audience. But instead of making tea the normal way (you know, with a teapot and all) he simply throws the entire sample into his cup, pours out his hot water, and watches as it rises to the surface. Then his ‘reading’ begins, which is all just a bunch of mumbo-jumbo he’s making up on the fly.

“Hmm... Right there! Did you see the way that part broke off from the rest? That signals the ferocity of a lone wolf, the electrifying greatness of he who strays from the pack! Though I may be destined for a life of solitude, that solitude is my sharpest sword! It cuts through foe--WAIT!” 

“Don’t blink, or you’ll have missed it! The wolf floated back to the pack! ...This can only mean a great battle lies before me. It shall be grim--a tale of heartfelt betrayal--but the wolf’s fang is like a flaming glacier! Impenetrable! Invincible! Indestructible! BANG! KAPOW! My fangs sink into the unjust, avenging the fallen even at the cost of my most precious bonds!” 

And thus Dark concludes, folding his arms across his chest and tilting his chin toward the student. An impressive feat, if you ask him... But a display of idiocy, if you ask anyone else. He seems pleased by the result, now wearing pride on his face and in the way he shuts his eyes--but it is undoubtedly misplaced. “Pretty cool, right? That’s the stygian future in store for Oberon Dark, Hero of an Epoch. I can read yours if you want, but I can’t promise it’ll be as... Legendary.” 

His tone is something between a gloat and a laugh, using the way he speaks to amp up the words he says. They are empty and hollow, based entirely on the delusions of one desperate to stand out, yet their theatric ring almost makes them real. It’s sort of a conundrum, the way this fortune-telling works. On one hand, it is completely fake. Yet on the other, the inherently fake nature of it is what drives Odin to prove it true. Wanting not to be made a fraud, he would go to the ends of the earth to fulfill his own prophecy. 

...But then again, it’s hard to tell what will happen in reality, and what will just be eccentric make-believe. 

Rusalka is an idyllic territory by the coast. It’s easy to see why anyone would be captivated by the sun, the sea breeze, and the high, rocky cliffs overlooking the shimmering ocean. The people in the port city seem friendly enough, but few seem to recall seeing any knights around lately. This is the biggest city in the area though, so someone is bound to come through at some point. With the shopping and the weather as good as it is, no time like the present to have a little vacation while you wait for leads then, right? Beach day! Maybe even try your hand at what the locals call “surfing.” [Grants Riding +1]

starter for @vonochs​ 

The petite priestess usually didn’t take any kind of vacation or pause from her duties and commitments, but around this period of the year, she knew there was a rather cool and interesting place not so far from the monastery and practically by the coast: it was the territory of Rusalka, a beautiful landscape dotted by clean beaches, lovely villages and small cities, all around nothing but hills and cliffs that directly sunk in the deep blue ocean. A very popular place indeed, especially for short holidays –better a long one, but with all the tasks in the monastery, all she could be happy with, was merely a day, but at least it was a good sunny day!

Speaking of which, with no further thinking, the auburn-haired girl took a small backpack with all the things she needed for a beach day – the sunscreen, the beach towel, a book, a pair of sunglasses, just in case – and wearing the cutest swimsuit she had and an adorable straw hat, she set her way towards the first free beach she encountered on her journey, already imagining all the activities she could do on her own to enjoy her free day: she immediately took a small portion of the beach and set her colourful beach towel, soon after she was already playing with sand, making some little cute sand castles, while looking around the surroundings, since it actually already was full of people from all around the area.

As a matter of facts, while tempting another construction-alike, she eyed a familiar figure with a rather strange object held in her hands – a long wooden board, nothing she had ever seen around, but definitely caught all her attention, especially since she was about to do something quite amusing. Or at least, that was what Sakura thought as she stood from her place, shook off the sand from her swimsuit and ran towards the familiar red-haired girl, who grinned happily at the sight of her: the two of them have acquainted not so long ago, during a festive event and Sakura grew a pure liking for that young girl.

​The stench of bleach burns in her nostrils as Mercedes tries desperately to scrub out the blood from the stark, white linens. A futile attempt to chase away the reality of death and decay the empire tries so hard to hide in places like this. It isn’t, however, her loyalty to the Empire that drives Mercedes to clean the infirmary wing from top to bottom with a single-minded drive. As if nothing else matters.

It’s a vain, pitiful attempt to hide her guilt. Cover up the feeling of inadequacy that creeps in day in and day out. There’s so little she can do here. So many lives cut brutally short - and what for?

The ones that do recover are sent back out there. To fight. To bleed. To die for the empire.

It’s a story that never seems to change. Mercedes finds herself adrift; floating in stormy seas, wishing the maelstrom would just pull her under already. There are no answers to be found here. No reasons to move forward. Young and naive as she had been, Mercedes applied herself to her medical studies with the dream of helping others. Now, she finds herself at the outpost, the years having worn her spirit down. Had General Malo always been so harsh and cruel? Had the recruits always worn such fearful expressions?

It was hard to say. Almost impossible to recall brighter, more hopeful times. It’s with a heavy sigh she gives up - time to incinerate these sheets and replace them. Bundled up in her arms, Mercedes makes her way to the exit in order to dispose of her waste. The doors however, slide open before she can even approach.

“Oh! It’s you!” Mercedes plasters a smile on her face. It doesn’t reach her eyes, not quite. Yet it’s better than demoralising the troops who work so tirelessly. Who risk their lives, for a future that may not ever be realised. “Is everything alright? You’re not hurt, are you?”

getting approached by pegasi, menacingly finger-snapping and speaking the cursed tongue, with @stelleffigia , @vonochs, and @hresvelged

But then, suddenly, it all disappears. Ice, phantoms, the realm itself…

...and reappears once more. 

But... not quite, is it?

Claude finds himself on his hands and knees, keeled over and breathless. It was like... he wasn’t, and then he was again, as though shifting between two dreams. Through blurry eyes he can see new lights flickering in the distance, more of those enemies. Whatever questions he has will have to wait. 

A sharp, frustrated sigh escapes him. It’s no dream, he knows that much, and there’s no use wishing otherwise. But what he wouldn’t give for a stronger bow and weaker enemies...

He pushes himself up onto his feet, unsteady as a newborn fawn, his hand still gripping his.... bow?

Blessed Bow activates! +1 HP healed, Claude 10/10HP

Definitely not his bow. But definitely stronger, with its holy energy already working to mend his wounds. Claude laughs a bit under his breath, already pulling out an arrow to twirl in his fingers, the devil’s luck strikes again!

The enemies approach their position quickly. They all handled the last wave well, but they started that battle with full strength. Edelgard and Monica are looking worse for wear, but it’s Limstella who’s particularly terrible. The last enemies focused all their efforts of them before they disappeared. If anyone’s smarting right now...

“Hey, Limstella!” Claude calls out, running over to his classmate. “Hold on a sec–” He extends a healing hand to their body.

Roll: 12 + 4 = 16, +6 HP healed! Limstella 10/10HP

Team 7: @boundlesshart, @vonochs, @hresvelged

Humans were odd things. Limstella had witnessed their ignorance, willful denial, and stubbornness enough to know that logic and the laws of the world were regarded by them as suggestions in the best of times, and obstacles at their worst. By all that was known of realms, books, and illusions, this “gauntlet” - as the projectionist had described it - should not have been possible, and how the volunteers who had come to do battle with the gossamer effigies spilling from the enchanted books expected to rescue anyone was beyond the established laws of nature. That is, beyond Limstella’s understanding. But battle was what Nergal’s morphs knew, killing infused into their very essence.

Limstella could take orders as well as any human soldier, if not better, and they awaited such commands near the three other students that they had soon learned were to be their comrades-in-arms. One, they recognized to be the house leader of the house they had been placed in; a second one emanated such unusual quintessence that it drew Limstella to her side on instinct. And the third... Limstella hardly noticed.

They had quickly fallen into some semblance of a formation by the time the shimmering figures began to crawl from the pages of the book and enter their self-contained world of illusion. They were not alive though, their forms merely abandoned cicada shells to Limstella’s senses. How uninteresting the task suddenly became, realizing this, but they watched and waited as they had been told to do. One of the figures wielding a sword-like shape in one hand broke from the rest of its party and Limstella saw their chance. They darted out from their own group to intercept the enemy, magic condensing into shards of ice around them. But without quintessence to guide them, the forms of their enemies were but shimmering tricks of the light.

Limstella 10/10HP attacks Recruit C with Blizzard! Roll: 4, miss! Recruit C 8/8HP

The icicles linger in the air for a moment, suspended as if by Limstella’s outstretched hand. Then with its sharp downward motion, the shards shatter into the floor several feet from the illusory figure. Limstella stares, uncomprehending for a moment, before instinct once more takes over and sends them back into the safety of their own party.

More human trickery, then, for their perception to falter in such a way.

With winter in full swing, every pegasus in Garreg Mach rejoices in the cold, crisp mountain air, playing and racing during their time outside. This is the season where pegasi perform at their peak, a perfect time for a racing tournament! The students have come together with the “White Heron Derby” to determine which pegasus is the fastest in the school. Grab your winged mount and get ready for a wild flight around campus. There’s a twist though: all riders are decked out in absurd hats and if you lose your hat, you lose the race! [Grants Flying +1]

What better way to bond with one’s mount than with a competition? Or at least, that’s the reasoning Saias uses when he signs up both himself and Sigyn for the White Heron Derby. He wouldn’t know, being relatively new to having an animal companion and all, and if he’s honest, he’s not really in it to win. It would be nice, but given that he and Sigyn have only been working together for a few weeks, he doesn’t see it happening unless the two of them are in perfect sync. Considering that most of the time Sigyn attempts to corral him like a chick and ends up interfering with their training... yeah, he has low hopes for the victory.

He has to admit, however, that he’s very excited about the hats. It seems like a silly thing, what with how ridiculous they all look, but the mage appreciates the spark of levity they bring. When it’s his turn to choose, he picks the hat decorated with so many flowers it looks like it’s overflowing with them and immediately plops it on his head. Sigyn gives an annoyed cluck as he makes his way back to her and nudges the hat, trying to push it off his head. Saias laughs and shoves her wandering beak back. “No, girl, we want to keep the hat on me, not knock it off! I have to wear it the whole time or otherwise we’ll lose the race!”

Evidently the bird cares nothing about the race and continues in her efforts to liberate her human chick from the evil flower hat.

Saias sighs and takes the hat off, resolved to wait until he’s situated on Sigyn’s back to put it back on. A prickling in between his shoulderblades makes him tense a bit and whirl around, searching for whoever’s staring at him. Most of the other riders have busied themselves with preparing for the race, and it takes him a bit to locate the source of the stare, a girl with red hair not unlike his family’s signature vivid shade, pulled up into two cute side buns.

I’m making a fool out of myself, aren’t I? She probably thinks I’m an idiot. “Uh, hi? Can I help you?” he asks with a friendly smile. Of course, Sigyn takes the chance to start grooming his hair right then, and he pushes her beak back again. “Hey! Not the time! Focus!”

+*. muse drawings ( not acc. )

it’s ur gal!

-- HER HANDLE ON the steps isn't as firm as Monica would have liked them to be, frankly. Her own steps into the fray had definitely been purposed and hopeful, but as her attempts had continued, she'd have to face the reality of the fact that she... wasn't very good at it, huh?

Every attempt to transfer the motions in her mind to the floor below her failed with continued misery, and only served to make her more frantic as her hands spun with increasing frustration. So involved was she in her own head, in fact, that she found herself-

" Oh! "

Monica gasps as her clumsiness sends another dancer spinning through the air, landing face first on the ground. Crud, of course she'd do something like this-

" Uh, 'scuse me! Uhm, " she bends over the boy, " sorry 'bout that, huh? Hehe, " she scratches the back of her head. " Could I offer you... " think Monica, think! " A. Stamp, in this trying time? "

Tentatively, she offers out her ring.

          the orchestra quickly launches into another song after the partnered dance is dispelled and the dancers begin to situate in other places.  forrest waves a hand to his partner, to bid him goodbye, but is unable to leave the dancing space fast enough before the next song comes down onto the crowd in a wave of notes.  and amidst it all, he allows himself to be pulled into the individual sets of movements.  improvisation at its finest heights.

            though, the joy of surprise aids to the laughter that spills from his lips at every turn and and spin that he’s randomly given.  it is enough amusement to last him for quite some time and, seeing as the orchestra has yet to soften their music, he bids his new, excited partners with a tip of his hat and a wish of good farewells.

            with that, forrest pinches the side of his skirt and begins to retreat away from the dance space of the ballroom.  and he is confident in the evasive side steps he pulls to move around and away from the dancers, grateful that some even move upon seeing him.  so it’s with great confusion when a foot juts out and knocks hard against the back of his knee   —   the suddenness of the strike immediately shocking his legs into improper function.  before he’s able to brace himself for the impact, forrest’s face slams against the floor.

            the pain flares his face a moment too late and the gasps of nearby dancers reaches his ears before numbness drowns it all out; only the ring and heartbeat within his chest sounding out for him to hear.  forrest does not mean to immediately break into tears but lifting himself off of the floor proves to be a task even more difficult than keeping his sniffles muffled behind his hand.

            (   it takes everything in him to not think of how his makeup may be smudged by the blood slipping from his nose, or the bruise that threatens to blossom both on his busted bottom lip and forehead.   )

            a voice rings from above where he sits on his knees, keeping himself up with one arm while holding his face with his free hand.  to hell with embarrassment!  even that isn’t as dire in this moment!

            “   i-i... i’m fine, it’s alright...!   ”   shit.   “   wah, you... uh, yes, please grab my card from m-my purse.   ”   forrest rises back on his knees and weakly holds up the hand that had been keeping him up.  tears prick the corners of his eyes but he ignores it long enough for the girl standing above him to press her card against his ring.   “   may you retrieve my.. napkins from my purse, too?   ”