#wargains

@wargains​  penned: 

any 3 of your own choice :3

28.     WHO DO THEY SEE AS THEIR BEST FRIEND ?  THEIR WORST ENEMY ?

best friend  :  i’ve talked about it before,  but ferdinand is very much one of those  ‘many acquaintances,  few close friends’  kinds of people.  he’s on amicable terms with  most  of the academy students  ( barring like,  dorothea,  hubert,  edelgard,  hilda … )  and he is very outgoing / always inviting people to tea and events.  he’s social and friendly so he’s usually always around people,  but when it comes to  a best friend  the only one that comes to mind is  lorenz.  they get along really well  ( they aren’t horrifically annoyed by each other like so many are with them )  and they share basically all the same interests ----- tea,  riding horses,  being noble.

post-time skip,  assuming he and lorenz are on the same side,  they are still close friends.  the only other one who compares is probably  hubert,  but that friendship takes a lot longer to cultivate and is still relatively rocky.  if lorenz isn’t there,  then it’s hubert.  even more so when ferdinand is prime minister because hubert is practically his work wife.  but ferdinand won’t admit the latter and if you ask him who his best friend is he will say his horse. 

worst enemy  :  perhaps you were expecting hubert here as well.  nay !  ferdinand’s worst enemy is  his father.  due to their disparity in moral views and what it means to be a noble,  he has never gotten along well with his father.  he says several times throughout the game that he has always known how greedy,  arrogant,  and unrighteous his father is. 

this is the absolute biggest reason why his relationship with edelgard is so contentious after she unseats duke aegir.  the territories and wealth is one thing,  but more importantly ferdinand verbatim saw succeeding his father and holding him accountable / passing rightful judgement over him and being a  better prime minister than he was  as his  “dream,  [his] will,  and [his] future.”  and edelgard ripped all of that away  with the ease of cracking an egg.  

45.     SUPERSTITIONS ?

ferdinand is quite the stickler when it comes to traditions and rules so i feel like that would, unfortunately,  translate to superstitions as well.  “of course i am not superstitious !”  he will say while nailing a horseshoe  ( of iron,  that naturally fell off a horse and was not taken off by man,  it will not work otherwise,  this is a very important aspect ----- )  above his estate entryway.  

he’s not really  scared  of such things per se  ( not like lysithea and ashe are of ghosts and what not ),  it’s more about upholding any sort of rules / traditions even if they’re a little bizarre.  even if he doesn’t believe in it himself,  he cannot pull himself to ignore / break tradition because obviously his ancestors did it for a reason !  the only thing that likely frightens him / freaks him out is dark magic.  he really doesn’t like the idea of it and finds it unsettling,  and the idea of curses  makes him uneasy too.

19.     WHAT DO THEY THINK ABOUT BEFORE FALLING ASLEEP AT NIGHT?

BLACK EAGLES RISE! RISE! RISE! / aa./ @wargains

     ❝ very good, cas! my ears are practically damaged beyond repair now, but can you do this? ❞

     dorothea takes a step back. in uncharacteristic fashion her chest heaves like a bird puffing, and the moment she clenches her eyes shut she BELTS out, ❝ HHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA— ❞

UNPROMPTED    /    irresponsible  arrow  retrieval 101   /   @wargains​

            during  the  day,  byleth  employed  a  sort  of  open  door  policy.  she  didn’t  like  dissuading  students,  whether  they  be  of  her  house  or  otherwise,  from  coming  to  her  with  questions  or  concerns,  and  while  it  wasn’t  always  easy-  the  requests  tended  to  range  far,  wide,  and  sometimes  time  consuming,  from  lending  an  ear  to  catching  stray  spiders-  it  was  rewarding.  

            that  being  said,  she’d  never  had  a  student  bleed  all  over  her  floors  before.

            ‘‘   …why  didn’t  you  go  to  manuela?   ’’   is  what  she  asks  first,  to  which  caspar  sheepishly  prattles  something  about  the  infirmary  being  too  far,  and  he  was  feeling  a  little  dizzy,  and  the  classrooms  were  so  much  closer  anyway.  as  he  goes  on,  byleth  reaches  for  the  bottom  drawer  of  her  desk,  packed  tight  with  first  aid  supplies,  and  draws  out  a  few  essentials.  he’s  looking  pale,  a  little  shiny  at  his  temples,  but  still  smiling,  strained  though  it  may  be.  

            ‘‘   caspar,  i’m  going  to  need  you  to  breathe.  alright?   ’’   byleth  takes  up  his  hand  gently,  inspecting  the  wound,  packing  gauze  around  each  side  to  slow  the  bleeding.  it  was  a  clean  shot,  but  nothing  but  magic  would  be  able  to  repair  the  damage  to  his  tendons.  as  she  goes,  caspar  takes  her  advice  as  earnestly  as  he’s  able,  gulping  huge,  deliberate  breaths.   ‘‘   slowly,   ’’   she  clarifies.  while  he’s  slow-breathing  to  the  best  of  his  ability,  byleth  quickly  and  efficiently  snaps  each  end  off  of  the  arrow.  to  caspar’s  credit,  he  only  flinches  a  little.

            ‘‘   okay.   ’’  turning  his  palm  over,  byleth  grasps  the  end  of  the  shaft  jutting  from  the  back  of  his  hand  and  glances  upwards,  fixing  caspar  with  a  steady  look.   ‘‘   i  know  you  don’t  want  to  get  anyone  in  trouble,  caspar,  but  when  we’re  done  here  you’re  telling  me  exactly  what  happened,  and  then  you’re  going  to  the  infirmary  to  get  fixed  up  properly.  understand?   ’’

            he  seems  a  little  frazzled,  but  perhaps  coming  to  realize  the  hand  that’s  currently  at  stake,  casper  jerks  his  chin  down  in  a  quick,  earnest  nod.

            ‘‘   good.   ’’   it  looks  like  a  crime  scene  between  them,  but  byleth  appears  calm  and  practised  as  she  turns  her  focus  back  to  the  task  at  hand  (  pun  not  intended,  much  as  caspar  might’ve  loved  to  hear  it  )  and  braces  her  grip  around  his  wrist.  there  is  a  brief,  but  meaningful,  pause.

Linhardt quietly slips into the tent, with a pale of cold water and rags strung between his arms. It’s heavy, he loathed to take it, but chose to anyway.

Because more than anything else - whether it’s his endless mounting fatigue, the nauseating pit at his core, or how cold his hands and arms felt after treating so many of the wounded - it was just awful to see Caspar in that state.   Linhardt wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone even if he wanted to.

It was strange, like their first mission with the professor, the battle Garreg Mach made him question everything.  He didn’t feel drawn to any side, but chose to stay where he was because it was the easiest path when none of them made sense-- and because Caspar, during the worst hours of that battle, so adamantly stayed nearby.   He was hurt for it.

And even now the wounds on the surface have healed ( though they’re still delicate, still new ) there seems to be some other turmoil, one that magic could never reach, simmering well beneath his skin.  After setting the pale down nearby, Linhardt reaches out, presses his hand against the rise of Caspar’s shoulder.

“ If something is on your mind, perhaps it would help to talk about it? ”

@wargains​  penned:

"oh emile, i promise that you'll like it!" it's not that she's leading him anywhere particularly unfamiliar, but mercedes insisted on a him closing his eyes nonetheless. with her arm looped in his and his steps hesitant he's never felt more like the little brother who used to always receive his birthday gifts this way, and she the big sister who would never abandon him. at the door to her own quarters, she releases his hand from his and pushes the door open, tugging him inside. "okay, you can open your eyes now!" several gifts arranged in size order rest across a table borrowed from the gardens. first, a hair clasp of burnished silver, shaped much like a sword. then, a handmade card standing up in the middle of the table, filled with sweet words. lastly, a soft toy shaped like a cat, golden haired and lilac ribbon tied around it's tail. mercedes giggles a little as she steps aside to let him closer. "i don't know if you'll like it, but it reminded me of you, so..." the real gift is the basket of his favourite fresh pastries, the one part he'll surely enjoy. and more so as she pops on her toes to kiss his cheek. "happy birthday, emile. just this once i won't even make you spend the day with me, but if you want me here, i'll stay."

“ ----- oh. ”   a small exhale,  the sort one unfamiliar with him might mistake for disappointment rather than surprise.  but the upward lilt to his tone and the slightest pluck of his eyebrow is enough to give it away to someone who knows him as well as mercedes does.  unsure,  overwhelmed,  he wrings his hands together before he reaches,  as if afraid to soil the gifts she has so carefully selected. 

he traces his finger first over the hair clasp,  so delicate yet beautiful,  one he would not dare pick for himself.  then through the cat’s plush fur,  a hand meant for death and warfare so unbefitting of such pleasant softness.  how closely it resembles one of the many stray cats who often keep him company within the monastery walls …

he turns to her,  but cannot lift his eyes to hers when he murmurs his next request,  hand still buried in the cat’s fur -----

“ i … would prefer you stay. ”   a selfish,  cruel request,  he knows;  but he has spent far too many birthdays alone.

random valentine’s day kiss   //   accepting 7.  on the neck

        calling onto the goddess could only do so much in the eyes of death and war. not when mercedes was forced to question what exactly being tied to the church actually meant , fighting feelings of gratitude for what it has done for her and her mother and the disappointment of the society it’s been supporting this entire time. such an emphasis on crests ... lives being ruined , much like her own had been ... like her classmates , her brother’s ... mercedes felt so blind for not realizing it before , for letting the practices of the church pull wool over her eyes. 

        young life lived following because it was all she knew , and now it was time to make her own decision. to continue learning how to be a new person ... and if that meant leaving the church behind ...

        caspar was something she hadn’t been prepared for. with her brother , the professor and politics , caspar was a breath of fresh air. his over the top energy and determination was an emotional refuge to the destruction , dirt and blood all around them. but the thing about distractions , about a safe haven , was that you always wanted just a bit more ... just a bit more ... just a kiss more. 

        how mercedes ended up here , she wasn’t quite sure ( she absolutely was sure , every decision she made to this point was on purpose ) but her lips were on his neck. she had come here to heal him , to make sure he was okay and ... well ... now they were here. 

        “ caspar ... “ she speaks on his neck , warm breath hitting the flesh there as her hands rested onto the metal plates at his shoulders. she wants to say something but she isn’t sure what ... left hand raises to cup the side of his neck she currently wasn’t occupying , fingers curling as they push into the hair at the nape of his neck. lips press at skin once more , a soft green glow on her hand as healing magic flows through her over to him.

Name: Marianne von Edmund Age: 23 Do you like to cuddle?: If it pleases you, I really would like to.  Can we make-out?: Oh, ah, um… I would like that too. 😳 A night in or dinner out?: I think maybe… out, if that’s alright with you. Maybe we can go riding together, somewhere quiet and alone.  Ice cream or chocolate covered strawberries?: My father grows strawberries in his garden, and he takes great pride in them growing juicier and sweeter than anywhere else. If you like, I could bring you some? What makes you a good Valentine?: I don’t know about good Valentine, but I think that we have a lot in common, and I don’t want you to be alone on a day people should be sharing with people they love. …I don’t think I want to be alone, either.  Would you cook for me?: If you like my cooking, I’d like to.  Would you let me cook for you?: Oh, oh no, having a prince cook for me would be very improper, wouldn’t it?