By the time 'family jules' answers, Azama's off to terrorize someone else's inbox. Accidentally turns airplane mode on, and then accidentally back off. This small gadget is... strange, and undeniably foreign, but even now a picture of the possibilities is starting to form...
The phone buzzes and he fumbles with it, eyes wide. Close call.
[8:45PM] u can't not know what to-witter is
[8:45PM] ?????
Azama frowns. Pecks at the letters one by one. Send...!
[8:59PM] And yet here we are.
[8:59PM] ???????????????????????????
Half a minute passes and he's back to pondering his next hapless victim.
[9:00PM] :|
[9:01PM] It'd be better to just show you. gm a sec
This isn't the first time since they've arrived that odd slang or shorthand's been thrown their way. He still needs to, one way or another, discreetly find out what the hell a 'him-beau' is...
[9:02PM] What is gm?
Footsteps approach, and Azama leans back in his sofa. It reclines. He needs one of these for back home. Maybe two, then Mitama can have one.
It isn't long after Julian arrives, clearly still skeptical, and Shez follows suit, sitting down nearby.
“Time to learn to witter on To-Witter,” Shez says, and despite himself,
Azama gives a small huff - was that a chuckle, perhaps?
"Good one," he offer with his trademarked smile, benign and unassuming.
He's not sure it Actually is a good one, but if it isn't, it'll be more than worth it just to see Julian's face twist up again.
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[ SECRET ] While the festival is supposed to be family-friendly, and indeed more children than usual run through the streets, you catch wind of a tavern in some forgotten alley of the town where one can go for some “adult” entertainment. Like wine tasting. Just wine tasting. (don’t tell the clergy).
midsommar prompts part 2
Student though she may technically be in terms of Garreg Mach, Lyn is already an adult, you know? And being an adult means wanting to sneak off sometimes to drink that forbidden nectar, but the Church is surprisingly vigilant about where students go. Not tonight, though. Everyone is distracted by the festivities and it's simple enough to sneak off, wandering through the darkened alleyways.
(The walk to the tavern is a bit like walking around Issyk, which only makes her want to drink more.)
The door chimes and someone steps into the tavern. Lyn vaguely recognizes that shaggy purple hair from the academy, though they're in different classes. Emerald eyes meet amethyst and Lyn lowers her flask from her lips.
"Hey, I won't say anything to the clergy if you don't," she says with a shrug. He doesn't look too uptight. "But I'd avoid the wine from the middle tap if I were you. It's super dry. The ones on the far left and right are the best, in my opinion."
Hinoka has, quite frankly, no clue what she’s doing here.
Up until now, her interest in wyverns began and ended on how to kill the damn things. How to successfully strike, knock off the rider, disable the beast - all while avoiding its claws and fangs that could easily pierce Hajime’s neck inside out if her carelessness fails her.
But, they’re no longer at war with Nohr. So they should probably think about an exchange of cultures and things like that. Heck, Nohr has pegasi; the black-colored version ridden by the Dark Fliers, but it has them. It would be kind of remiss of Hoshido not to try and catch up, and as it stands, she may well be the one with the best shot at that.
She just needs to not lose her hands. C’mon Hinoka, if Camilla can do it, so can you.
And honestly? When she takes a peek into the stable and her eyes meet the big, wide open, amber-colored peepers of the curious baby who may have just seen a human for the second or so time in its life, she has to admit it’s kind of cute. It’s got nothing on a pegasus foal, but she will give credit where credit is due.
“Oh, hey there!” Spotting movement in the corner of her eye, she turns and smiles, waving at Shez, the student joining her for today’s adventure - or disaster, they shall see. “Lil’ fella just woke up from his nap. Hm, I should probably ask - do you have any experience with wyverns?”
self indulgent prompts — ( always accepting ! ) ( cw ; heights , near death experience , injury )
SOME KINGS DIE, BUT SO DO GIRLS that venture too far into their curiosity. girls that don’t understand what refusal is. it isn’t the monk’s voice midori hears when the earth beneath her boots begins to crack and tear apart. it’s kaze’s, her father’s. it’s always his, never mother’s, never her own. hurried soles scrap against stone and dirt and the shock of the threat pushes her heart into a gallop within her chest. anxiety swells in her throat at the cries of her classmate, a student of a name she’s forgotten now. he who struggles forward, past where shez is staggering with each motion.
“ w-we need to leave! ” young apothecary shouts as another tremor shakes the earth. to flee means an act of sacrifice must be taken; there is always a cost for every choice. midori knows this. she knows this and yet thinks nothing of it when she pulls one strap of her travel case over her shoulder. a final glance back to the batch of grass near the earth’s ledge, where gray petals tilt and sway and pale stems are yanked at by clumsy hands. it’s dire, yes, but—
wait.
midori freezes, shock and terror tensing the limbs of her body. a name, or an incoherent scramble of letters, fills her mouth with the bittersweet taste of realization. her travel case falls limp to the ground, close to shez’s boot, and no matter the value of it to her, midori forgets it all when she sprints towards her kneeling classmate. kings die, so do curious girls, but midori has been told when to muffle her wonder; not him, not her classmate. surely, it’s why he grasped at strong roots and attempted to pull them out of the soil. yanking hard enough to require adrenaline to drown out midori’s shouts for caution. worry. a sacrifice that needn’t be made.
midori learns, then, that when she tugs the classmate to his feet and spins them both around in a heavy-handed pull, she has never felt as weightless as now. the ground gives out beneath her boots and the boy’s jacket is released when surprise loosens her grip. midori is light when she falls. spruce eyes shares a gaze with the sky, in all its palest beauty. her name is shouted — no, screamed. her name is screamed and her tongue is so, so sleepy in her mouth. she, too, feels tired. maybe just odd.
no scream leaves her lips when she falls, neither when she hits the ground. midori doesn’t recognize anything besides the pain of breathing when she wakes up, moments, maybe an hour later. something is wrong. very wrong. her body is numb and midori realizes that with the haze in her head, there’s no way she’d be able to locate the injuries she’s gotten. the numbness encircles her perception, keeps her as a little, helpless girl. not as the docter she knows she is.
when a voice slips past the drumming in her ears, midori can’t raise her face from where it’s pressed cheek down into dirt. the movement isn’t needed, though. not when she’s pushed off her arm and onto her back. not when the face staring down at hers is familiar and concerned and helps her remember how much she hates the look of worry on a peer’s face.
shez, she thinks. she can’t say it, he knows. and still, he whispers her name for confirmation; a check of productivity in her senses, surely. midori hears her name, his voice, his concern, and still, she risks closing her eyes. father tells her to rest, just for a minute or two. just until she can feel her body again.
