reminiscent belle

He felt all the fool, all the boy, the lightness of his head dragging forth the softest exhalation, a chuckle, a relief.

The words almost came out of him, that confirmation that he was the man she sought, hesitant only that he knew exactly the parts of him that were missing, those abscesses carved from him through death and through the relife pressed upon him.

After a moment, gently, he dipped his head down to press his fore to hers; it might have been a long time before he was the man that he had once been, but that he was hers was never in question.

"I am. I am here."

And so, too, was she. It was impossible to see for the darkness, no tapers to light and no flint to light them - and though the moon hung high in the sky that night, Berkut could not bring himself to draw the curtains back and let her shine upon them.

If there were to be eyes upon them, then let them adjust, just as his did.

The thought brought a shiver up his spine, and he tugged Rinea further inward, pressing the door closed behind them.

As such previously, Rinea allows Berkut to lead her through the dark. His tug is strong…hold on, no it isn’t. The lord who had directed her by his side, who had taken command of their delightsome dances…he had a much stronger pull than this.

As the door shuts close and the outside air thins, she can feel his gaze return to her face. Berkut’s words quicken alongside a raised tone. It almost feels aggressive, even though she knows it comes from a gentle place.

“Shh…” Rinea weakly hums to slow her beloved’s train of thought. She moves her hands onto his shoulders now. Quite a reach, but one she has grown used to and look forward to. It makes her easily seen, even in this corner where light fails to reach them.

“I am unharmed. They cared for my…recovery for however many moons have passed. From there, I followed their instruction to find you, and well…”

The right finisher would be an uplifting “here I am!” But Rinea cannot find the energy to so easily ignore her wistfulness. Her hands begin to massage Berkut’s sides, nearing on squeezing his joints. They still feel moderately weak…though she isn’t one to speak of weakness.

Rinea is cowardly enough to secure a spot under the rocky cover before turning back to call for her instructor. She was paired with the lady to take on some mission around these hills - something about…surveillance? The reason mattered little to the noble student, honestly.

All that Rinea cared for was that her faith professor needed the help. It’s undignified, in a sense. Wanting to help a person, her superior no less, that she knew little about so extremely. But as one of her primary instructors, the purple-haired woman has been nothing but kind to her.

It is said willingness to be kind that strikes Rinea with dismay as she watches the other remain under the cold. Though the flurry that began only seconds ago…its bitterness reminded the Rigelian of her home’s chilly climates. A harsh environment that spared no one from its wrath.

It was too much to recollect all at one. Rinea picked the safer option and found shelter underneath one of the mountains.

When she consciously realizes her careless sin, Rinea takes a few steps deeper into the cavern. Enough for her professor to comfortably slip away from the pounding snows.

“You’re not too chilled, are you Miss…?” she asks with a second stage of guilt thanks to her bounded memory. A new ally, and she cannot even manage to recall her name?

The softness of her words clipped through the rickety door, and it took every ounce of his self-restraint to call out, "You may," and not to rip open the final barrier to seeing her once more, at long last.

When she did enter, that self-restraint melted from him instantly, no longer the façade of patience, of regal indifference; his long legs ate the distance immediately and he crushed her to him immediately, bringing his hand to cradle her head, to bury his head into her hair as though the soft scent of her might have made it all worth it.

After a moment, naught but the creak of the wind in the eaves and the hammering of his heart beating a desperate tattoo against his chest, he withdrew.

With the sound of sudden footsteps,she can feel that person physically as well. One hand placed upon her back to hold her close, and another around her head to nestle her face. His own face settles to rest within her hair momentarily. It’s all so…familiar. So intimate.

Where his heart beats and almost dominates the room’s sound outside of their breathing, Rinea’s own heart swirls. Beating, yes, but practically churning and threatening to leap out of her chest.

As with the embrace, she does not deny the fingers that run over her cheeks. She rolls with the touches, turning her head as they push her. It makes looking him right in the eye difficult, even after his tender pokes have resided. But the hesitance in his tone is what encourages her to finally stare deep into those dark eyes.

It may prove challenging to truly see, though she doesn’t need to see to know the touch of who is in front of her.

“Yes. It’s…Rinea,” the lady places both hands on the hand that’s stopped running on her cheek. It feels pathetic, what she’s about to ask. But she must be sure. Like a child with a pathetic retention of memory, she wants to hear the same.

𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇.

[ 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 ] ― sender wraps a soft blanket around receiver’s shoulders [ 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐊 ] ― sender and receiver fall into bed together on silk sheets [ 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋 ] ― sender pulls receiver’s hair ( gently / hard ) [ 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 ] ― sender strokes receiver’s hair [ 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender brushes receiver’s hair [ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 ] ― sender paints a picture onto part of receiver’s body ( specify what & where ) [ 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender traces their fingertips over receiver’s body [ 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑 ] ― sender traces a scar on receiver’s body [ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 ] ― sender reaches out to hold receiver’s hand [ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 ] ― sender worships receiver’s body

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄.

[ 𝐔𝐍𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 ] ― sender feeds receiver something they’ve never tried before ( specify what ) [ 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑 ] ― sender feeds receiver something sour ( specify what ) [ 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 ] ― sender feeds receiver something sweet ( specify what ) [ 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender feeds receiver something spicy ( specify what ) [ 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender kisses receiver to taste the lingering flavour of what they ate or drank on their lips ( specify what ) [ 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender bites receiver hard enough to draw blood [ 𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 ] ― sender feeds receiver soup when they’ve fallen ill [ 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊 ] ― sender makes receiver a cocktail to try [ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender cooks receiver their favourite meal [ 𝐓𝐑𝐘 ] ―  sender gives receiver a taste of what they’re cooking / baking for their opinion

𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

[ 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃 ] ― sender blindfolds receiver [ 𝐑𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 ] ― sender and receiver see each other again after a period of being apart [ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 ] ― sender notices something different about receiver ( injury / haircut / tattoo / piercing / etc ) [ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋 ] ― sender greets receiver in formal partywear ( feel free to add detail ) [ 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐒 ] ― sender takes receiver to see lanterns in the sky [ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 ] ― sender and receiver lay under the stars to stargaze [ 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄 ] ― sender and receiver lock eyes across the room [ 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 ] ― sender and receiver see a shadow move out the corner of their eye [ 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 ] ― sender and receive watch as something burns ( candles / a building / a campfire / etc ) [ 𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender takes receiver to the aquarium to watch the sea life [ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊 ] ― sender recognises receiver at a masquerade party

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃.

[ 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 ] ― sender puts on the radio to listen to music with receiver [ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 ] ― sender plays receiver their favourite song on an instrument ( specify what ) [ 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 ] ― sender and receiver are in bed together while rain lashes against the windows / tent / etc [ 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender whispers something in receiver’s ear ( specify what ) [ 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender asks receiver for a dance upon hearing a song [ 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐘 ] ― sender and receiver hear a sound when they should be alone ( footsteps / creaking floorboards / a scream / etc ) [ 𝐇𝐔𝐌 ] ― sender hums a lullaby to lull receiver to sleep [ 𝐌𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐃 ] ― sender comforts a temporally deaf receiver after a loud sound ( gunshot / explosion / etc ) [ 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐌 ] ― sender calms receiver down from a panic attack in a loud place [ 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐑 ] ― sender and receiver hear a muffled sound from another room / outside ( music / people / creature / etc ) [ 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 ] ― sender hears receiver crying and approaches comfort them

𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋.

The night was all the colder for the waiting.

He was not accustomed to being made to wait - not as commander, driving to the very front line at the first hint of conflict, or to sortie and gather intelligence, to see what lay before his men with his own eyes; and certainly not as prince, he who could snap his fingers and find a slurry of attendants to his beck and call.

Idly, Berkut lifted his fingers, and snapped, frowning at how hollow the sound carried against the walls of the cottage, absorbed by the damp timber and the silence of the wood around him, as though sucked into the darkness.

He wasn't pacing, merely standing to stretch his legs, picking up and setting down long abandoned knick-knacks of whichever bumpkin had left this hovel long abandoned. Perhaps they were dead - it might have explained the suddenness of the tableaux, books opened on an end table, dishes with crumbs not yet pilfered by the mice that scurried within the walls. It wasn't a dire scene, merely…unfinished, waiting its punctuation to bring the long note to rest.

His eyes raked over a mirror, hung on the far wall, draped in a fine curtain of grime from who knows how many long weeks, months, years? of abandonment, and though he could not see himself in it, he raised a hand to his hair regardless. Though it lacked its usual shine, Berkut knew well that his hair would not be the thing unrecognizable: lost a stone to the earth, his skin sallow, his eyes darker and deeper within his skull, it twisted his face into a distasteful sneer at the thought of what he'd become.

A shambling corpse, a distorted memory of the great man he'd been.

Had wanted to be.

A shift, the creak and crack of kindling underfoot, and Berkut's eyes flashed, alert and alive once more.

Those were the final few words she was provided with before being dumped onto the Fódlan mainland. A set of instructions, those that would make little sense for someone like her, who held zero knowledge on the structure of Garreg Mach.

But Rinea needed to solve the riddle now rather than later. She knew how much he hated waiting, after all.

The first night was nothing short of inadequate. In her lack of insight, she left the academy much too early, evening not night. The streets were much too crowded to get any exploring done, as a single glance in her direction and she was certain that slipping away would be impossible. Some knights have already seen her depart once tonight…it would have to wait for tomorrow, then.

A reset on the situation the second night, and Rinea was comfortably walking down a declining road. The slide downward allowed her to comfortably incase herself within the shadows. If she wasn’t vowed a reconciliation here, she would be none the wiser in stumbling upon fishy business.

But the “tower” she keeps turning toward escapes her vision at last, and what remains in front of her is a storied cottage. It actually appears warm in spite of its oldness…though its oldness is what causes the planks to release a loud creak! upon stepping.

A rough, mature voice practically growls through the door. Rinea nearly feels the temptation to turn tail and retreat. His voice…she has not heard that voice in years. How does he expect her to speak back?

Honestly, calling the door a door is quite sad. It barely stands strong enough to remain shut, let alone stand in general. Yet the noblewoman calls back on her etiquette nonetheless. She gives the door then gentlest of knocks - only for it to partially swivel open anyway. Well.

“May I enter?”

Rinea almost chokes over the request, though she prays he has not forgotten the sound of her own voice. Only then could she allow herself to come in.