#chryssaetos

[tineoffreege]

🎨 /this'll be sent from sin's blog bc thats where im logged in atm but you can choose any of my guys at your leisure <3

"Terribly sorry for how simple the depiction is but your ourfit caught my attention so I wished to render it"

[contempenitent]

"...Did they give you one of those bracelets, too?"

Sin doesn't have many thoughts about Mauvier just yet, but he's pretty easy to spot, considering his... General build, really — Sin wouldn't exactly consider himself short, but he only barely comes up to his shoulder. In any case, they do seem to have a moment to themselves...

He's... Well, he can't lie to himself and say he isn't a little tired. The night is still young, and he's got a long way to go before it ends, but he's spent most of it working and probably will spend most of it working. As he expected, when he was informed the Knights would be here.

...With a shot of hot shame shooting through his center, he remembers that Lady Sue did make him promise not to do this to himself anymore, and knows, instinctively, that she'd be terribly cross with him if she knew he had put that promise aside. I'm so sorry, Lady Sue...

wait, is he still there? um.

"...If they expect the Knights to go along with this," he says a little too hastily, taking a pearl into his hand to give to his fellow Knight. "Then I'll ask you to take this.

what would Lady Sue say, if it were him on the other end?

"...Try not to overstretch yourself."

Sin is here, as he had tentatively promised. Mauvier is glad to see him, even if he's still largely an unknown quantity. He's dressed rather plainly, but Mauvier appreciates the unpretentiousness of it, the clean frankness that matches Sin's speech.

"It appears they haven't missed a single person," Mauvier says, with just a hint of humor in his voice. His large hand dwarfs Sin's little pearl, but Mauvier takes it nonetheless, bestowing an anchor in return. "All does appear peaceful. I suppose the Viscount must have spared no expense on safety, for the gravitas of his responsibility, but I shan't lower my guard."

There's an odd tenderness that Mauvier hadn't expected, at Sin's request. "You as well," he says with a nod, making his way back to his newfound perimeter.

Received Pearl Charm!

[nabataprophet]

Only a little time has passed, and Sin feels well enough to at least do some rounds around the estate. And it isn't as if patrol on foot is impossible or even necessarily uncomfortable, but doing it on the back of a horse is simply far more preferable. It's impossible now, though, so he'll do as he must with what he has.

He does end up running into someone vaguely familiar, though she isn't exactly hard to pick out of a crowd — Sophia, that's the name he connects to her. A girl (allegedly?) from Nabata from what he recalls, though admittedly Sin had been too busy beating sand out of his clothing to give much mind to events there.

...It's nice to see someone familiar so far from Elibe, at least.

He's gotten deft with these charms, too, pulling one off the string 'round his neck just as quickly as it takes him to properly approach Sophia.

"...Well met."

Sin rolls the pearl in his palm a little, letting it gently clink against the ring on his thumb as he offers it to her.

"...Do you want this?"

There is a limited pool of people that Sophia knows to begin with, so it's always a surprise when one of the few people she does know appears in Fódlan. Chad and Elffin are also here, bringing the number of people she knows from before up to three.

(Perhaps it should technically be four, but does it count when the memory is only one way...?)

This man is one of the Sacaens; a companion to Sue in the same way Igrene and Fae were her companions. She had only gotten a small glimpse of Sacae on their travels, but it had been completely different from what she had grown up with. Rather than sand as far as the eye could see, it had instead been rolling plains. Greenery had been everywhere, not just in the small area surrounding the oasis.

It had been a reminder that the world outside was far more vast and beautiful than anything she could have imagined.

Sophia unhooks her own turtle charm from her bracelet and holds it out in turn. She's more familiar with tortoises, but there is a fun sense of novelty in looking at the charm's little flippers. It is meant to resemble a sea creature and not a desert creature, after all.

"...Here... for you."

[loyaldeserter]

continued from here @chryssaetos

The intense feelings in the Sacaen man's eyes are apparent immediately, his stance tense and his words moreso. Heath cannot blame him. Bern has committed atrocities, getting worse by the day, and he would not be surprised if this man has been affected by them.

"I am Heath. I serve the Church as a knight, currently." He motions to the attendant to continue without him. Hyperion whines, but it would not be fair to leave this interaction so abruptly. And he would prefer for what he is about to say to only fall on the ears that need to hear them. "Your eyes and ears do not deceive you. I am formerly of the army of Bern."

This far from Elibe, Heath shouldn't assume that revealing his desertion will place a target on his back. Not one that puts him immediately in peril, anyway. But there are many from Elibe at Garreg Mach, and part of him will always be on guard for those who may see him as an opportunity for reward.

"This...may not soothe you entirely, but I am a deserter. They ordered me to slaughter innocent civilians, and my unit refused." He does not have to say this, but the way this young man looks at him like a cornered prey animal makes his heart sink. Bern, land of his birth, once again shows why he forsook it. "There were...few survivors. Such is how Bern operates, even upon its own."

He doesn't really know what else to say.

the light shot diamonds from his eyes

[sunncutter]

[ GARDEN ] - The Viscount has a greenhouse attached to his estate, hosting his collection of flowers both normal and enchanted, imported from a variety of places and modified by his own hands...

Sin had his contrivances with the party as a "Knight" on duty, certainly, but he hadn't quite expected a storm of this caliber to bear down upon the lot of them. Had Father Sky also been displeased with this arrangement...? Or is this only coincidence? Either way... Well, he's soaked.

and thoroughly, at that... it feels incredibly odd to not have his head covered, but the cloth had somehow gotten soaked through before he got inside, so... whatever. has his hair gotten a bit longer?

In any case, the Viscount had the sense to allow them all to take refuge within his home, and his attendants have been ordered to provide them with food and drink while they're trapped. It's more than he expected, but were these not the circumstances in which Lady Sue was taken captive during the war? In the end, he must always remain vigilant.

...That being said, he has his own agenda to attend to.

"Lyn of the Lorca..." He says, simply, with only the faintest warmth. "Well met."

She isn't hard to find; when he had heard of the Viscount's spacious garden, he had thought he could find her there, surrounded by the providence of Mother Earth. For his part, Sin finds it a strange place, and perhaps she thinks so too. But it isn't his place to ask.

"I understand these things are... Painful. Now, most of all. And I will never weigh your shoulders down, clanswoman." His head is bowed, and the faint scratch of leather against the floor is the only sound that fills the space between them. "But I want to know. Of you. Of the Lorca."

When I think of Sacae, of the way things used to be, my heart aches unbearably. Sin doesn't say. The pain is so acute, it threatens to topple me. Please allow me this one selfishness.

It was easier to take a breath, she found, when she was not so surrounded by people. Well, it was perhaps not the people's fault - she had not felt quite so discomfited on march, nor even she had to admit when she was in her own household at Castle Caelin - and although she could not blame them the circumstances, it was the panic and the press that brought a static to the fringes of sensation.

She had only intended to take a moment, but when Lyn found herself surrounded by nature, it ended up being rather more than one moment. Plants both familiar and common, to outright rare, to ones she thought she might never see again - and although it was encased in the high glass walls of a greenhouse, she simply felt more at home in this moment, than any other that night.

"Hm? Ah, Sin of the Kutolah," she greeted, with a dip of her head, and a faint smile. "I see we have the same instincts. I hope you've been enj - "

Ah, but it seemed as though he had not, she could see it in his every movement, and the heavy tone in his voice as he brought up the one faraway, painful thing they both seemed so strongly to yearn for.

She didn't realize that she had sat down when he spoke, but she found herself on the low wall, hands knotted in her lap for a moment. It had been different, with those Sacaeans she had met in her army, and on march with Eliwood and Hector - they had appeared to know, the word of mouth passing quickly as to the fate of the Lorca. They had understood it a subject carefully trodden.

Sin seemed to know this, too - but more forward than the other Kutolah, wasn't he?

She cleared the lump in her throat, nodded once. "It is painful," she admitted, pausing a moment to allow the heat that formed in her chest to dissipate before continuing. "I'm...the last that remains of the Lorca. There was a...a great tragedy, and while those responsible have fallen, it..."

The heat traveled upward, pressed into her throat. "It isn't enough. I know that...I've been told that I should move forward, but..."

A tear slipped down her cheek, furious. "But I find that difficult, as well. Sin of the Kutolah."

[sunncutter]

Spotting the woman from across the way, there's a brief spark of intrigue that lights up inside Sin's chest.

It isn't the easiest to tell, but he swears he can see Sacaen patterns on pieces of her clothes, the same as the ones that mark his collar in shape, if not in color. They draw his eyes to her, in the hope of finding something from home.

...Sin is willing to admit to himself that he's been terribly homesick, lately. He won't let it get in the way of his duty, of course, but he can't deny that he's been longing for the plains he's always known, to retreat back into what is familiar and leave all this behind him.

But he won't. To run would be to betray his lord, the most important mission he's been given. And tt's that shot of remembrance that leads him right to her side.

"...Are you from Sacae?" he says, quiet, already unhooking a pearl from the thread along his neck into his outstretched hand.

"Sin. Of the Kutolah." He can feel his voice strain a little. "It doesn't matter if our tribes are different... Know you will find respite in me, if you need it. Take this as a favor."

It was, undeniably, a lovely night, enchanting in all the ways she expected that their host was hoping for – the night and the sea created a shimmering inky canvas for the cascade of stars, shimmering distantly, and the glistening sands under the warm light of torch and brazier. To say nothing of the attendees, each magnificent in their own ways, made all the more vibrant by their desire to be here, to enjoy the magic of the night.

And Lyn still wished that she could have been on a blanket under the expanse of sky, feeling the blades of grass prick against her skin and to know that no matter where she turned, the long reach of Sacae would be there to embrace her.

Her time in Caelin prepared her, and simultaneously could never properly train her expectations for how massive a truly noble event could be – and all for a birthday? All for a dance? She had seen some gatherings in Lycia, but none to this degree.

There was always the faint sensation of someone hovering just over her shoulder, and she wasn't quite so surprised to turn and find that, indeed, there was someone there. Halfway prepared to curtsy, as she had been taught, Lyn's face brightened instantly to hear the name of home, precious home.

"You are of Sacae?" She spun to face him properly, and she could see it, she could see it in the set of his eyes and the angles of his face, and taking that pearl from his hands felt the same as accepting a piece of that precious earth, exchanging it for her own star, plucked from Father Sky himself.

"The Kutolah! I have a dear friend of the Kutolah. He was rather taciturn as well," she added, a gentle tease. "My name is Lyn, of the Lorca. Sin of the Kutolah, you may consider me your clansman, if ever you need call on me."

[contempenitent]

Ah, so Sin is having the same difficulties. Mauvier had hoped that commiserating with someone in the same predicament might show him a solution. Now he has two of the same problem to address.

Mauvier drops his gaze to the ground. "A young noble of such apparent wealth probably wants for little," he says. "I doubt anything of material value would be worth the hassle, to be truthful. So I have been thinking about the kinds of things that can't be bought with gold. But even then...I remain unsure."

Monetary value aside, they don't even have the luxury of being sentimental. There is simply nothing else to be known about the boy. Except perhaps...

"I did not attend the Battle of the Eagle and Lion," Mauvier says, after some thought, "but afterwards, I heard the students murmuring about Sir Menja, that he used...bread, as a weapon?"

i like to engage in the ancient and noble art of searching for 'cool bows' on Google Images and just, like, really wallow in that shit

What IS the perfect birthday gift, and do YOU have yours ready?

[doyouevenliftbrooo]

Pearl Shoals doesn’t remind her of home in the slightest— in fact, it feels stuffy compared to the inviting fields of Firene, filled with towering mansions and ostentatious decorations that look gaudy more than they complement the architecture around them. There’s a couple of homes that look better than others, and this one in particular is one that she can appreciate, as it immediately catches her attention for one reason and one reason only: its garden. Some of the flowers behind the bushes remind her of those that grew in her village, and it takes little effort for her to vault over the hedge in order to bring herself closer to the target of her interest— gently, with the utmost care, her hand cups one of the tulips as a smile stretches out across her face; how long had it been since she had visited her parents? Her sister? She’s spent years in Alfred’s service at this point, rarely finding time to indulge in more private matters as opposed to maintaining her status as his ever-loyal retainer. She misses home. She’s found a new family in the Divine One and her allies, but it’ll never be the same as her flesh and blood she’s left behind in favor of duty. As much as she’d like to reminisce, though, a vicious snarl tears her from her reverie in rather rude fashion; emerald eyes glance upward just in time to see a twisted body launch in her direction, and thankfully she’s deft enough to quickly hop out of its way, a yelp of surprise escaping in the process. “W-what the hell?” She manages to choke out as she remains crouched, every muscle in her body tensed in preparation for throwing her weight in the opposite direction of wherever her assailant decides to strike. Yet… it’s not human, that much she could tell in the way it moved— A… dog? Etie knows well enough what a hound looks like, thank you, but this isn’t it. Its spine is curved at an awkward angle, legs stunted and the way it bares its teeth with a short snout makes her almost feel sorry for it. She’d rather not be responsible for someone’s pet being hurt, and so she offers a confident hand in its direction, voice low and as soothing as she can possibly make it. “Hey, buddy… I’m not here to hurt you, okay? We can be friends. But only if you stop growling!” Dogs needed a firm word sometimes, right? They listened if you asserted yourself over them, and perhaps she could- Nope. Absolutely not. It stalks forward with narrowed eyes, the docked tail lashing with every movement. Etie takes a step back with every one that it takes forward, feeling sweat beading at her brow. She takes a deep breath, steadies herself… and books it in the opposite direction, searching for a gap in the hedge to easily vault through. “Come on, come on….!”

@chryssaetos

no big dogs allowed. guess they arent fw me

w/ @chryssaetos

[heavy-draw]

Well, Lukas has already wiped the floor with her on more than one occasion tonight, and she's quite certain that with a loss that heavy, there's little chance of her redeeming herself. But with a new beginning comes new opportunities-- settling in with a drink and her trusty deck of cards, she motions for Sin to take a seat across from her. "Good news for you. You don't have to be good to win. It's all about the luck of the draw." (Yeah, she'd know a lot about that, wouldn't she?) There's another familiar mop of hair that seems to be lingering and looking awfully bored... and so she glances over her shoulder to wave in Jeralt's direction as well. She knows him well enough to know that he's looking for any sort of distraction to pass time; they're both soldiers through and through, a stuffy party doesn't suit either of their tastes. Especially not one so noisy, even if there is alcohol flowing freely. "Hey. You look bored. Come spice things up for us over here, yeah?" Shamir doesn't wait for a response before dealing out 2 cards to herself, to Sin, and then to a blank spot that she's reserved for the former Captain. This time, in contrast to the last few games she's played... she doesn't flip her cards over just yet. Maybe that's why she's been having bad luck-- she's been going first. No harm in switch it up, right? "Have at it, boys. Take your pick of who takes it away." @bladebrecher @chryssaetos

ah shit. here we go again

toaball2025 cont. from here

[sunncutter]

She had not known this man for long, but there was a trust there that could not be broken. It was something that was not forged, not earned through the work of delicate steps in the way that these Fodlaners, or even the Lycians did – but a trust that was as innate to her as breathing, as opening her eyes to see the light of the sun, of knowing who would welcome her on the plains and who she could welcome in turn. As time went on, as tradition held or shifted, as tragedy struck or kindled, this instinct grew stronger and more fierce, simultaneously understanding and selective. 

Lyn heard the shift in his tone of voice, however subtle – the Kutolah men were not known for their emphatic expression of face or voice, but she had picked up a thing or two, she thought. 

She knew before he could even begin his sentence that he bore with this shift in tone a heartbreak. 

"Invaded?!" She was on her feet immediately, the only storm to her ears now the thunder of her heartbeat. They were no longer in the midst of a party, taking no part in merriment – her teeth ground against her cheek, her fingernails digging crescent moons into her palms. 

"I had not known – Djute? And Bulgar?!" The capital was a well-regarded town, a hub for travelers and merchants and natives alike – that it would have been invaded was not merely an act of violence, but a declaration of war. 

"In the future? I don't understand – if there is violence against Sacae, then we should not be here. We will need to travel back immediately. I...Eliwood is here, we have stopped calamity before – surely I, we - " 

It felt almost ridiculous, to be enjoying a foreign lordlings birthday party, in that moment, when her beloved home was burning. The fine gossamer cloth of her dress, something that she had allowed to be selected carefully in preparation of the event, felt silly, and never before had she so missed the weight of a blade at her side. 

"You need not even ask my assistance. I do not know the scope – oh, I wish that Rath had told me - !! It doesn't matter. If Sacae is in danger, then we must rescue her. Immediately. We cannot allow it to fall into further destruction – she has seen enough of it!" 

those black flowers, from which the poison of love was made.

(continued from here.)

[loyaldeserter]

Sin's face is a journey, from doubt to suspicion, landing on wary, tentative belief. He's surely seen some things that cause him pause, and Heath is an obvious and terrible liar, wearing the truth on his face.

996 is far beyond what the date should be in Elibe right now. 1000 even moreso. Fifteen missing years between him and Sin, and the Sacaen man voices the unlikely truth before Heath can.

"It appears so. Or from my perspective, you are from the future." Heath shakes his head. It should be impossible, but he has seen many things that should be, from confronting Nergal to the aftermath of the assault on Garreg Mach. Something is strange, here, wrong. Sin is perceptive enough to pick up on. "There is a man I met here who knew my comrade's history in terrifying detail, among other things he should not have possibly known. He claimed he was from a world where he had access to many alternative timelines and information from them. This is something I would doubt, but with the evidence he presented, it was hard to argue."

He's not going to name Alfonse, but it feels prudent to mention this here. If the man were to object, perhaps he should not have revealed Legault's history to those who did not know.

"Time functions strangely, here. I've tried to brush it off, but sometimes I have heard tell of parents and children attending at the same age." He'd thought that must be some sort of error, an odd rumor that held no water. "I don't know how else this could be explained."

the light shot diamonds from his eyes

[loyaldeserter]

Sin is entirely, deadly serious. Heath has no reason to believe he is lying; why would he? The pain in his eyes is real, as is the confusion. Unbidden, Alfonse's strange claims come to Heath's mind--that there are different worlds, that he has some level of access to them and that is how he knew Legault's past in full. Could something be happening here adjacent to that?

"Your words seem genuine, I would not assume you to be lying. I just..." He can't say that to Sin, though. He'd be pegged as mad at best. Maybe if he expands his story, they can find some kind of medium. "I defected from Bern in 980. Later in the year, I joined the army of the young lord Eliwood. After it was disbanded, I returned to mercenary work, avoiding Bern as best I could. It has been five years since I defected."

Heath pauses, his heart racing faster than he had realized. If Sin is truly from an Elibe where more time has elapsed, if Zephiel had ascended the throne and somehow become worse than his father...what could have happened to Vaida? She had put so much hope into the young lord. Surely she would not sign off on such atrocities...

"Something is wrong, here. The Bern I know is led by King Desmond. The princess could not be more than eleven. I do not disbelieve your statements, so something else must be at play."

Sin likely has reason to doubt Heath, to attribute this discrepancy to madness or untruth. Has he seen that Lady Lyndis and Lord Eliwood attend the academy, at an age impossible for his experiences? Surely not, but if all else fails, perhaps that could convince him...

the light shot diamonds from his eyes

[contempenitent]

The new knight, Sin, buries his apparent surprise beneath a veneer of composure. His bow acts like an extension of his hands, and only a blink betrays his disappointment in his off-center shot. Mauvier should have known to time his greeting better. Those aforementioned social graces are hard-earned.

Still, something in Mauvier teeters toward doing things that would otherwise intimidate him. The upcoming dance is on the forefront of his mind; perhaps he could ask the Captain for a mapped layout of Menja, plan the perimeter of his watch route in advance...

"Apologies," Mauvier says, after a too-long beat of silence. "I didn't mean to catch you off guard." He turns his head toward Sin's target, observing where his previous arrows have landed. "You're a great shot. I shall be standing watch at the Ethereal Ball; shall I expect to see you there?"

(His voice already feels strained. He doesn't normally speak at length like this, particularly to those he doesn't know, but...he's still not used to having contemporaries, either. Equals. No one to see him as friend or foe, just...a man doing his job.)

i like to engage in the ancient and noble art of searching for 'cool bows' on Google Images and just, like, really wallow in that shit

What IS the perfect birthday gift, and do YOU have yours ready?

[loyaldeserter]

Heath wonders if his response was appropriate. There wasn't much else he could have said, but it doesn't feel great, anyway. It's the sort of situation where there's no right answer, but there are worse ones.

He doesn't have much time to dwell on that, though. Sin's next words are incredibly matter-of-fact for something so earth-shattering. Heath blinks, as if it will change what has just been said.

"The...the princess? Under Zephiel...has the young lord ascended the throne?" That can't be right. Young Guinivere cannot be more than ten or eleven years of age. The King was in good health, last he'd heard, though he could imagine his detractors finally succeeding in an attempt on his life. "Forgive me, Sin, but it has been less than a year since I was last in Elibe. Has so much happened in such rapid succession?"

Sin has no reason to lie and shows no tells, but none of this makes sense. To imply that Zephiel has not only become king but is so wretched that his own sister would defect...what possibly could have happened?

the light shot diamonds from his eyes

[heavy-draw]

Oh. Well that was fast. There's a hint of a chuckle that rumbles in her chest as Jeralt takes a loss immediately, and as Sin struggles with getting any sort of decent value on his first pull. Perhaps this is the break that she needed to secure some sort of victory this evening, and she rubs her hands together for a moment before pulling her own cards to see what her fate is.

Shamir draws 2 cards: [Roll 1d10 x2: 7, 5 = 12]

It's not a terrible start. The odds are in her favor, and her fingers tap against the table before she pulls her next, breath held.

Shamir draws 1 card: [Roll1d10: 8 = 20]

It's barely good. And she lets out a whistle as she opts to stop her luck there, leaning back in her seat before motioning to Sin. "Think you can beat that?" Shamir is already reaching for her drink, violet eyes settling on the two cards in front of the other man. "Don't feel too bad, Captain. My luck's been shit all night." @bladebrecher @chryssaetos

ah shit. here we go again

toaball2025 cont. from here

[contempenitent]

Once Mauvier had learned of the Ethereal Ball, he knew his duty would be patrol. He knew it in the way he knows that the sun will rise and that the growing chill portends snow.

When the venue changed, however, it put Mauvier on edge. He's just started to learn the layout of the monastery, scope out all of its potential weak points - and now he will be clueless about potential threats.

Worse still, as for the corresponding noble's son, Mauvier is notoriously awful at giving gifts. The only thing he is confident and able in providing is his service, but if such a thing in not needed -

Mauvier wanders onto the training ground to clear his head. He hopes he can gain clearance for a horse soon, lest his horseback maneuvers get rusty. Another man has beaten him to the punch; there's certainly room to coexist, but Mauvier vaguely recognizes him.

Ah, he was recently inducted into the Knights. Sin, Mauvier seems to recall. An odd name, but no stranger than those he's taken up arms beside.

"Well met." Mauvier nods toward the lad cordially, before he nocks his next arrow. "I should welcome you to the Knights of Seiros. I'm Mauvier."

i like to engage in the ancient and noble art of searching for 'cool bows' on Google Images and just, like, really wallow in that shit

What IS the perfect birthday gift, and do YOU have yours ready?