adheidth

[adheidth]

the threat to her own life summarily incinerated, alice peers again over the railing, leaning on tiptoes. the blanket-cape sits behind her on the floor, scorched at the edges, forgotten in the scuffle.

she takes note of the situation quickly — although perhaps not as swiftly as she should — and, specifically, the limpness of morgan's arm. with a huff, she makes her way to the stairs, rushing down them two-at-a-time.

"you're the one who needs help!" and unwilling to take no for an answer as she is, she makes her way to his side quickly, already prepared to draw up the warmth of healing for his sake. "as a noble, it would hardly befit me to leave you here bleeding when i can offer aid."

which is to say — show me your arm.

as the clock strikes

mission board: distress || reason +1

[adheidth]

Alice sits beside her, her own strip of paper before her — also conspicuously blank, hesitation bleeding through her self-assured veneer. The roiling storm threatens to disturb a pristine-perfect evening, but there's no use crying about milk before it's even yet spilled.

Where Emma's pen taps a rhythm, Alice's sits against the corner of her lips. She doesn't chew on it nervously or anything of the sort — perish the thought, something both unladylike and unsanitary! — but her tongue does poke out from between her lips ever-so-slightly in thought.

"Certainly!" she decides, after a moment of rather intense reflection. Decorating the paper... she puts ink to page, beginning an intricate swirl in the corner as she continues to consider. Her own question follows in turn — "Do you think they'll allow us to light our own lanterns?"

Her own flames come to mind; surely a wish she burns herself is doubly likely to come to fruition, when sent to the sky from her own efforts.

Flutter, Flutter

[ LANTERNS ] - Lanterns shaped like flowers decorate a large table alongside bowls of strips of paper and writing utensils. Guests are instructed to write a wish on the piece of paper and then roll it into the rim of a lantern, and once finished, to set them into the water...

[adheidth]

“That’s the problem!”

Alice’s words again are spoken as a childish huff, indignant. Blue skirts rustle, and the bow upon her head bounces as she continues animatedly.

"I've picked some scripts to practice for audition -- of course, I'm well practiced at recitation -- but the actual plot of the production is supposed to be improvised."

She looks at him expectantly, then -- she seeks not just a scene partner, but a partner in improvisation. To her, strategy and stageplay are not too different a thing.

down the rabbit hole

mission board: distress || authority +1

[adheidth]

[ SWEET BUN TRIO ]

-- THE TRAY WOBBLES JUST slightly in his hands- whether from the crowded room or the precariously stacked sweets atop it is anyone's guess. But Randal weaves through the banquet hall like a man who's been dodging elbows and tray-thieves since birth, or at least someone well accustomed to shirking attention in gambling halls. Nonetheless, he reaches Alice's side with little fanfare, giving her a small shouldered shove as he does so.

"Miss!" he says, playing the role of someone who barely knows her, who definitely didn't die for her once upon a lame night, "diplomacy's all fine n' good, but I reckon the true heart of any alliance lies in pastry."

Three dainty buns, practically glowing with sugar and good intentions, sit in neat formation. He leans in slightly, voice lowering with a lilt of conspiratorial charm. "Best t' try one of each, yeah? And if you like 'em- well, I've a trinket I've been meanin' to trade your way anyhow."

He fishes something small from a waxed loop at his belt: a pale, small seashell charm, easy enough to get lost in the palm of his calloused hand.

"Randal!"

Alice's voice hovers somewhere between indignant and excited as the older man's shoulder bumps against her. For her part, she's been trying — and failing — to make her hair behave. The stormy upset tore flyaway strands from her braids, leaving her hair slightly frizzy and solidly disobedient.

Frilled sleeves are delicately pushed upwards, and she takes one of the proffered buns, her own eyes twinkling to match the lilt of his voice. Carefully, daintily, she takes a small bite of one piled high with both whipped cream and powdered sugar.

It's good. Really good. Her mouth makes a small 'o', eyes widening in excited-awe for hardly the first time this evening.

(Despite her cautious attempts at eating, a smudge of whipped cream still remains on her nose.)

With this little offering, she nearly can forgive his insolence at the Battle of Eagle and Lion.

Not to be outdone, and sincere for it — "I've been looking to exchange with you, as well."

An offering for someone lacking, a trade of memories. Hand wiped clean of powdered sugar, she removes a pearl from her own multitude of shimmering charms, placing it into Randal's far-larger hand with her own small and soft touch.

"You should be honored. This will complete my set!"

She lingers a moment longer, fingers still hovering over his palm.

He is warm. He is alive. It is still a reminder she needs.

[adheidth]

[ MORFISIAN ] 

Passed from one partner to the next as part of the dancing festivities, Leif finds himself put in the companionship of a blonde woman he's not interacted with before. Then again, that was the point of these dances, was it not? To learn and meet others?

(Well, besides the posturing and bragging.)

“ My name is Leif. I'll be your partner for this dance, ”  Leif introduces himself, taking the girl by the hand and waist. When their hands connect, a burst of flames ignites, entirely harmless but granting a mystical energy to their choreography.  “ Whoa! It's been a while since I've seen something like that happen. ”

He turns his eyes from the aesthetic flames and moves them back to the noble in front of him.

“ Do you mind it? ”

"Uwah?!"

A startled squeak leaves Alice's lips as flame sparks between them, winding around their hands and illuminating their faces in golden-orange-red. She's certainly never seen this happen, no — in the parties she has attended, fire has kept itself restrained to lanterns and candelabra.

So she stumbles, briefly — an action made far more embarrassing than it should be, when she processes Leif's face — but she regains her footing smoothly, as any upper-class woman would. Gloved hand in his, she allows him to lead her, shock replaced with awe.

"I haven't," she admits, sheepishly — the effect is rather grand, isn't it? Magical and mesmerizing, she wonders if she could add her own flames to the mix.

(She's not about to try, not when she's already made a fool of herself.)

"It befits us, no?"

Awestruck, the dance spins by her — she follows his steps, twirling through the crowd, spinning past students and faculty alike. The rise and fall of music is a familiar friend, and practiced steps manage to match Leif's with relative ease.

As the song draws to a close, they separate. Unwilling to part so abruptly — or so impolitely! — she curtsies before him. The interval between songs is all the time she has for her little display —

when she straightens, a pearl is offered up in her hand. Her brows are slightly furrowed — intent focus, as flames circle around her palm, casting the white charm in the same light they'd both been cast in moments prior.

"Ah, heheh. Thank you for the dance!"

With a giggle and a proud grin, she makes her offer, before the night pulls them back apart.

[adheidth]

[ PHOTO-ARTIFEX ] - Niamh had seen these before. She recalls the memories that they were able to capture during last year's ball. The resulting images were still somewhere among her belongings, possibly lost, yes, but never forgotten. Recording memories through images. She wants to share that once again this year. So when she learns of a miniature version of the device, Niamh is quick to borrow one. Eyes dart among the crowd, searching, searching....oh! Stars sparkle in her bright red eyes, though her expression remains firm. Though, perhaps the mask she wears gives her a bit of a sinister grin, huh? At least the mask stands out in a way that draws her friends over, and not away from her. (Probably, anyway.)

"You're here too..." She's slow in her approach, trying not to drop the mini photo-artifex. "A lot happens during these..."

"Could we...use it to remember tonight?" She shifts the device into one hand, and taps on the starfish that's pinned to her coat. "A picture...and one of these..."

"——!!"

Niamh's mask definitely doesn't startle her.

Alright, well — maybe it does, just a bit. She's come to expect the older girl to wear a mask, but this one is... it's a bit creepy, isn't it? Still, Niamh approaches her with earnestness, and is an important part of a party such as this not good friends?

So Alice's own eyes sparkle in return, hands settling upon on her hips.

"Well, let's get started, then!" and the first order of business is the removal of her pearl, cupping the small charm in her palm and offering it to Niamh with all the grace she has.

Assisting someone in need. Again, she follows her noble tenets with a prideful heart.

The photo-artifex, though...

"...I-I don't know how those work," she admits, cheeks slightly puffed, face pink.

[adheidth]

[ FASHION POLICE ]

"Well, aren't you adorable?"

It was a genuine compliment and observation. That flowing, golden hair... the perfectly accessorized dress... Goldmary couldn't help but be caught by the young girl's appearance, and there was something about her sheer amount of presence that reminded the Elusian of Hortensia.

Those two would either get along swimmingly, or clash horribly.

But no matter the case, no one could beat Hortensia in charm as far as Goldmary was concerned.

"I'm curious to know where you got your dress." Goldmary smiles sweetly, "I just adore fashion, and I'm always on the look out for new tailors..."

Of course she's adorable.

The compliment reaches Alice's ears, and she turns and beams, curtsying ever-so-properly at the newcomer. Blue eyes raise, then, taking in the other's outfit — cascading yellow chiffon and matching flowers in her hair, a sense of mature elegance that has Alice almost envious.

(No, not almost. But that's between her and herself.)

A little nod, then, as she follows up where the other trails off — "It'd be my pleasure to provide you with the details. Assisting with such requests is part of a noble's duty, after all!"

A moment's pause follows, as she thinks for moment.

"...and what charm have they given you this evening?"

A little space sits at the end — an oddly shy request for the other's name. She should've asked sooner, after all, been proactive in introduction. Now, playing catch-up with the social strings, she begins to fluster.

[adheidth]

"Y-you should offer me a charm, indeed!"

Flustered by her own gambit, Alice stumbles through her words for a moment, but her voice still rings loud and clear. Her smile fades, but not to something less bright — it simply settles into soft sincerity, a gentle expression on her face for Matthias to see when he straightens.

"And what charm have they seen fit to give you?"

@cielenruine

through cloud-cover.

cont.

[adheidth]

"Can we send off lanterns later, Emma?" The Blue Lion meets her dear friend's excitement with her own, oddly questioning and casual both, equally as enamored with the festivities. She hadn't been lucky enough to attend last year, but there's certainly no time like the present for her to debut into another pocket of society. Around her own wrist is a pearl charm, perfectly suited to a noble like herself.

Her own hair is up while Emma's is down — an odd trade from their usual. Both of them wear blue accented jewelry, swathed in warm colors, but this noblelady is far more used to the feeling of gold against her skin.

Perfectly matched — "the ball awaits, and we'll surely—" here she pauses, a hand raised to her lips to giggle, ungloved fingernails painted in alternating blues and golds "—make a splash! On we go!"

One friend for now — and many more to come.

Seashell: Randal Starfish: Niamh Anchor: Matthias Turtle: Emma Pearl: Leif

[adheidth]

[ STABLES ]

If there is one thing Emma is still confident in, it's her ability to give a good ride.

So of course, she had offered to take Alice herself. What else would she do, make her walk? She didn't have much reason to travel by carriage or boat when flying was so much faster and prettier, and so flying it had been. A calm soar through the sunset skies, and a landing on the beach.

"Aliiice! Look, look at how cute the charm they gave me is!"

After finding an attendant just outside of the landing area, Emma quickly makes her way back to her friend, unafraid to use her outdoor voice upon approach. After all, the ball is outdoors this year! Excitedly, she holds her right hand out, tiny little porcelain turtle sitting smack dab in the center. Its luster shimmers even under the She grins ear-to-ear.

"They don't have any flying creatures... but turtles kinda soar through the ocean, don't they? Do you think they gave it to me on purpose?" Likely not, given the tremendous amount of work it would take to assign each and every ball-goer a charm befitting of them... but anyone would have difficulty admitting to that to someone so clearly pleased. "Do you wanna be my first trade? Which one did you get?"

Alice, of course, patiently awaits Emma's return. A good noble, and a good friend besides that, would hardly abandon their accompaniment so soon after arrival! Even if she's excited, a thrill at being in her element, she would be positively remiss to dive into the festivities alone.

When Emma comes back, grinning, Alice matches her smile — different colors of moonlit radiance, joy reflecting joy.

"I received a pearl," and here she holds up her own bracelet, leaning ever-so-slightly closer to make sure Emma can see. "They simply must've assigned them based on the types of people we are. After all, a pearl is a perfect fit for a noble like myself!"

Emma's voice rings loudly, but so does Alice's — forgetting decorum in this moment, assertion taking hold, and the simple pleasure of being a young girl around a friend the driving force of it all.

"Of course I'll be your first trade! You're in need of my charm, so I'll grant it."

There's a little huffiness, there, in her tone — something like, 'why would you ever consider trading with someone else first', that ultimately goes unsaid.

[adheidth]

Alice has never been an especially well-built girl.

Valjean has always been perfectly suited for tasks requiring physical prowess that she lacks - and, oh, of course a noblelady should be well-rounded, but the circumstances of one's birth are not so malleable. In this case, the circumstances are thus: Alice is somewhat delicate. She feels a bit lost, then, in this crowd of desks and books and boards.

I'll carry the heavy stuff for you - from one blonde to another, and she twirls her own golden locks around one finger as she's spoken at. Not to. At.

She doesn't appreciate that.

Her arms fold, cheeks puffing indignantly as this other student - is she a student? With these manners? - continues her proposition. Alice meets her eyes, blue-to-blue, and lets out a frustrated huff.

"You shouldn't work only for praise," a haughty declaration from a girl who rather loves external validation.

A moment. Two moments.

"...where do we need to move these?"

(Accepting help is also noble. To understand one's shortcomings is perfectly reasonable, and not at all frustrating, and she is not compromising anything by folding quickly under pressure.)

pleased to please ya

restoration: rebuilding rooms (heavy armor +1) (clingy lover rules)

[adheidth]

Alice's chin raises, her head turning ever-so-slightly away. This is the sort of action that should accompany a haughty laugh, but her cheeks are flushed pink. Still she holds out the flowers, and still her voice rises loudly from her chest when she manages to find words again -

(Because Emma asked her, too. Emma asked her. Of course she would! It's an honor to get to go with her. Emma asked her. Her thoughts are racing, heartbeats in her head, and she's not even sure why.)

-- "Yes. It would hardly befit someone of my status to invite you without any flair!"

The smile upon her face is sincere, sunny and ever-growing. Now that she's found her stride, she turns her head back to face Emma head-on, warmth in her chest spreading every-which way. Her traitorous hands still may quiver ever-so-slightly, but that is of no consequence to someone like her.

"Who would be more important than a- a dear friend?"

And yes, it's an embarrassing sentiment - but Alice is a grandstanding fourteen year old girl first-and-foremost. It's a bit awkward, stumbled over halfway through, but she's relatively certain she's doing this correctly.

Expressing care. Offering something to someone in need (in this case: the need for a partner for the ball.) Yes, she's certainly got this down.

girl friends

[adheidth]

As the seasons begin to turn, bleeding into each other with watercolor weather, Alice remembers her duty.

The Ethereal Ball hangs over her as both a promise and a threat – something daunting, perhaps, but something she can surely overcome! She is hardly unfamiliar with the idea of a ball, after all, and is plenty practiced in dancing. She can navigate a party, flash a noble smile, and leave a brilliant impression on everyone in attendance. No, it is not the existence of the ball itself that daunts her, but rather…

Well, here is the truth – Alice does not care much for doing things alone. 

She is surrounded by familiar faces, both in the shape of fable and friend. She would like to think that, by now, she has built quite the rapport with some of her classmates, and even beyond them, she is hardly alone. Oh, Randal may frustrate her, and Niamh may be impossible to find, and Yuzu may be a bit too driven, and Emma…

And there it is. Emma. That is what – who – daunts her. The smile that sits in her head, the ingenious solution to her loneliness. It is perfectly reasonable for a noblelady to invite someone to attend a ball with her, and so there is no reason for Alice to fret so about it. It is equally reasonable that Emma should acquiesce to her request, for attending at her side should be considered an honor. So there is, of course, nothing to fear!

Except it would be unbefitting of her to ask in any way short of perfect. It would be unsuitable for her to not rise to the occasion, to not offer everything she can, for it would be both an insult to Emma and a failure of her own noblesse oblige.

For the entire month, then, she plans.

Notes in margins of homework, distracted unbehoving thoughts. She has an inclination towards the grand, shows of prowess and grandstanding, but she is at least aware enough to consider that that may not be what Emma would like.‘Tis the duty of the aristocracy to serve their people, and Emma surely numbers among that, notably so.

 (More importantly is that Emma is her friend.)

She picks the day with intent – definitely with intent, and not simply the day she finally musters up the courage – and seeks out Emma with intent. Tiara upon her head, braids oh-so-carefully done, a bouquet of flowers in her arms. Prepared, determined, an unsinkable ship, an unfaltering pillar of a future ruler.

“Emma!” Alice’s voice rings bright and booming when she finally finds her friend.

(It takes every last bit of ladylike restraint to not simply sprint towards her.)

“I would like to request that you accompany me to the Ethereal Ball. I swear on my tiara and my honor that it will be a truly enjoyable night at my side!” 

(She holds out the flowers, red-faced.) 

girl friends

[adheidth]

“Um… hey…” This girl was so nice to her, only to be bested so brutally, without any of her healing, and that’s, like, the whole reason Serra was even there… “Thanks. For, like. Checking up on me. After… well, you know!” Ah. Embarrassment makes itself clear on her face with a rush of scarlet. “Here, let me heal you, free of charge! To show my gratitude.” She raises her staff, confidently, smiling as she does so. A rush of light coalesces at the tip of her staff, then gathers around the mage. “There! Feeling better?”

"..a-ah! Thank you."

Before Alice can protest (and she..probably wouldn't have, but there's an importance to at least putting on a brave face), a healing warmth washes over her. She wasn't roughed up too badly - really, the most damaged things were her hair and her ego.

"I'm alright," she beams at the other, and then, with a huff - "really, they were being so unsportsmanlike! Uncouth, even." She would cross her arms here, but right now, she's busy wiping muck and grime off of her tiara. There's plenty of spare towels to go around, at least.

"Are you in need of healing as well?" she asks, rather late into the whole exchange, all things considered. "If you are, allow me! A noble must lend her aid to those in need, after all."

[adheidth]

( hey y'all! i mentioned this in the discord server, but at the end of march, i had a personal emergency that kind of consumed my time/energy. i'm back to it now, but i'll be cutting through my boel ask backlog extremely belatedly first! thank you for your patience, i love you toa! )

[adheidth]

It's a rather undignified fall, all things considered - the first flame she can weather, and the second sends her sprawling, slumping down onto the dirt. How rude!

(He'd apologized. It's a mock battle - of course she's going to be attacked - but still!)

Alice doesn't have time to feel sorry for herself, though. Randal's approach is gentle, and she rubs at her face with her sleeve, determined not to cry over a simple loss on a battlefield with no real stakes. She takes her tiara with a hmph, affixing it carefully onto blonde ringlets, and then turns to Morgan.

"Y-you're every bit the mage I saw you to be!" she says with a quivering lip, attempting to take the noble route of being a good sport.

"Good luck," she says to Sara, a simple statement, but one with warmth. "Although I don't believe you'll need it. Skill is far more important, after all!"

And then, to Randal, quieter, gentle, tempered by their former struggle, far removed from her usual bluster - "thank you."

Although they are still on the battlefield, and enemies besides, she holds out her hand expectantly - anticipating to be helped up.

(And, okay. Her eyes are a little red, but that's just because it hurt, right? She's not a child.)

(...maybe she is, a bit.)

A PRELUDE TO THE HOLY. ✧

BOEL2025: Round 1 - Battle 11

[adheidth]

Alice really, really, does feel bad for it. She remembers Morgan from a wintry night, and his flames burn just the same as hers. He's really quite talented, but - well, he should consider it a compliment, that she views him as such a threat!

Alice hits Morgan 5/5HP with Fire. [Roll: 13-2=11, -2.5, Morgan 2.5/5HP]

Fire again spirals from her fingertips, well-practiced incantations precise. There's a smile on her lips, golden hair bouncing with the motion, the raise of her arm and the plume of red that accompanies it. Randal still sits in the periphery of her vision - she will not be foolish enough to take her eyes off him, no-thank-you! - and she whirls around to check on the loud healer beside her.

..she seems fine.

Breathless, the often rambling noble is left at a loss for words - her focus is on staying upright, tiara secured to her head, tights left clean. It would be rather unbecoming to leave the field scorched or muddy, after all.

A PRELUDE TO THE HOLY. ✧

BOEL2025: Round 1 - Battle 11