carefreemonk

[carefreemonk]

Closed eyes further narrow - a subtle crinkle that betrays the monk's distaste for the knight's flaunting. Oh, look at me, guess who I went to the ball with, tee hee?

Azama steps on Forsyth's foot. He smiles. Oopsie!

"Oh, there's no rush. This humble monk's question can wait until later." Which, for the savvy, translates to: No, I don't need nor want your help. I hope you trip and fall flat on your face into a plate full of spaghetti.

Being that Azama is a holy being, such uncouth thoughts are, of course, sanctioned by the gods - or by some gods, at any rate. Deities can be just as cheerfully spiteful as any ol' mortal, you know.

Case in point :

the Closet™.

Smile twists into a grimace. Nope. Nope!! Such a scenario he could abide in pleasant, handsome company. But being trapped (again!!) with this fellow? He practically jumps on the door handle, violently wriggles it, all to no avail.

"Gods," he murmurs, a curse neath his breath. They've really and truly gone and forsaken him, haven't they?

He whirls on his heels. Their hosts have been oh so kind enough to leave the faintest glimmer of light in their prison, in the form of a small bottle with magical fire gently flickering within. It might not last long, but Azama intends to make the most of his. His glowering face meets Forsyth,

and he sticks out a hand, expectant.

"It would be to both of our benefit if you'd share some of those mints," he states. (It had just been a joke! Just something to bug him. Azama shouldn't have to suffer from it in equal measure.)

And then, like clockwork, the closet groans, whines - oh, great! It's one of them shrinking models again, hm? Faannnntastic!

"Of all the people to get stuck in here with..."

... Not that he recalls his last experience being particularly enjoyable for either party, either, mind you, but. . .

hell is what we make of it

[carefreemonk]

"And the scissors yet escape you," Azama returns in far too casual a tone, especially given the ominous portent the follow-up carries: "But I can fix that for you, if you like."

Where does she get off coming after his beautiful locks when she's got twine of her own to contend with? Ohoho...

Stifling a yawn, Azama continues to pretend at sweeping. Does he know how to do this work? As a royal retainer, of course he does! And as royal retainer to Lady Hinoka herself, he knows how to fake it, too. Ah, what he'd give for a nap right about now. . .

He draws still a moment, knuckles tightening around the broom's handle.

She isn't going to leave him be, is she? Fine by him.

Professor offers student a warm smile.

"Well? Any luck so far?" With their mission, or whatever, is implied.

Boss makes a dollar I make a dime that's why I bother my teacher on company time

Any skill+ prompt .

[carefreemonk]

Did he really have to come here ?

Ugh, he probably did… She'd certainly would be equally upset if he wasn't overseeing the ball, since it's like he's job to do so, isn't it?

Focus, Tine; you shouldn't be holding petty grudges; they hurt you more than the other person, don't they?

Maybe if she masks her frustration well enough, it will actually disappear.

"Professor Azama !"

Her voice is cheery to the extent that frankly feels insincere even to her.

"I hope you have been having a lovely evening. The results of the battle of eagle and lion must have disappointed us both."

Did this man even care about anything beyond their round, he seemed so focused on one of her allies, they managed to beat him by timeout.

Her dear ally, Hubert.

Ugh, never mind the way he was so smug about putting Hubert in the medical tent, is far more infuriating than any of his fashion crimes.

Her aim is exceptional as always, so the charm meets its mark without an issue.

"I noticed you lack a seashell charm, and I have nothing against giving you mine."

Maybe lading it in his hair will convince him to brush it?

Still what a waste of time…

'Professor! Professor!' Goodness gracious, the monk is sick by now of the appellation today. Everyone wants his attention for something or other, and while usually he might delight and revel in it, tonight… He's growing a bit weary. Recognition of his antics must be on his time, on his own terms. Can't he just be a miserly old monk in peace?? Where are all of the prime napping spots around here?!

Turning to the source of the voice (far too cheerful for this time of night, this voice!), brows lift,

then furrow.

Azama scoffs, and shrugs. "I'm not actually affiliated with any one house, so my stake in the game is not so high. It is my lot to be simply content with having contributed in some small fashion."

Taking someone out with him had been a cherry top, of course. Especially since that someone had been one Mister von Vestra.

Azama would have to hunt him down again sooner than later.

In any case, Tine's own crimes are hardly forgotten. The way she had massacred his poor hair. . .

And now, to add insult to injury, she assaults his hair yet again…!

I noticed you lack a seashell charm, she'd said, as if that made it all hunky dory. "My, what sharp eyes you have…"

He plucks the charm for his hair oh so delicately, as if plucking up something gross.

"… all the better to come see me in detention after the ball is over with, yes?"

A pause.

Two pauses, just to let it sink in.

And when it seems, at long last, he might actually really be serious:

"… Just kidding, of course."

[carefreemonk]

[ HOUSE TOUR ]

With the storm comes a grand influx of people all crammed into one place, compared to how wide open the outdoor venue had been, spread across the beach and the vessels upon the ocean as well. The Viscount's home is large, but it still feels overwhelming being in the main ballroom with everyone else. So Lapis finds herself excusing herself, roaming emptier hallways instead, trying to find another place to catch her breath and moment of quiet. The orchestra can still be heard from far off, and she moves more slowly than she would care to, ankle still tender from its sprain earlier even with some healing.

She thinks she might have found some refuge ducking into a drawing room, but to her surprise, someone else is already there.

“ Oh, is this room occupied? ”  She looks around, but it seems to be just him and her.  “ ...Say, do you mind if I take a breather in here? The main party's still kinda cramped and I dunno how many more doors I can check. You know on the way here, there were six different doors I tried to open but then all I heard was two people on the other side going at it?! ”

She really is at her limit. She feels guilty for sounding as exasperated as she does. But even when she sounds this way, she's not moving to take a seat on one of the settees until she gets permission. An idea strikes her then and she pulls on the bracelet looped around her wrist.

“ How about I give you one of my charms? Does that sweeten the deal? ”

He doesn't answer at first, letting her draw her own conclusion. Instead, head cants to the side in question, and he waits...

Waits, and as most people do, she continues on.

He chuckles.

"It is the Ethereal Ball," Azama teases. "The most romantic time of year at Garreg Mach, where fresh young couples so in love are wont to take such time away to themselves without overmuch fear of reproach… And with no goddess tower to poorly hide away in, where else do you want them to go?"

Lips curl into a smile.

Only when Lapis finally offers up a charm does Azama relent, though the timing is unfortunate - left to his own musing, he'd have been like to come to the same conclusion… eventually.

"Well… I suppose I can share."

He nods toward the settee. Sure, she can have it.

Arms cross and he leans back against the desk he'd been sat at before his temporary sanctuary had been invaded.

A curious thought sits with him, then:

"But if you think I'm leaving this place first so you can have it for your own hot date tonight, you can forget it."

[carefreemonk]

[ HOUSE TOUR ] - she hasn't spoken to the deer professor before, but had merely seen him from an arm's length away every now and then, privy to all the chatter about the man's eccentricities. the kind of talk that was enough to raise a person's brow, but for one so often at the center of gossip herself, there was little room to judge and more to pursue him out of curiosity's sake.

"good evening, professor," comes the polite address. dorothea cants her head in curious appraisal before flashing a smile. just as quickly, she turns toward the portrait they both find themselves in front of. "something this size must've cost the viscount a fortune," she comments idly. "have you ever sat for a portrait yourself? i daresay you'd make a striking muse for an artist. there's something about you that feels…." she taps her chin and utters a thoughtful "hm," before turning back to the painting.

"...you have a very particular air about you. detached and untroubled. i think you'd make an intriguing portrait subject."

"Evening," he replies evenly, because while most of the evening has been rather decent, there have been mishap or two irksome enough to preclude it from being wholly good.

If you asked him, anyway.

Still,

she seems harmless enough. A crack of amusement spurs on a small smile. "Probably didn't cost him enough to make any noticeable manner of dent in his coffers, if this party is of any indication," the monk notes in response, humming thoughtfully.

But as for Azama himself.

Hah!

"My liege back in Hoshido was hardly the sort to sit still long enough for a portrait - nevermind putting one of her silly retainers through it alongside her. It'd never get done, wahaha!"

He could picture it now. Hinoka at the front, brimming with restlessness at being made to stand prim and proper. Setsuna humming to herself about this or that inanity. And Azama himself… probably napping, truth be told. To an expert practitioner of meditation, stillness is no encumbrance. It is welcome- invited even.

"I'll admit I'm tickled to have given you such an impression. Do you think…"

He passes her a mini photo artifex he'd stolen borrowed from the stand. "… With your artistic vision, could you snap a shot for me to send home? Here."

He stands in front of the portrait, and poses -- in fashion most certainly intentionally akin to that of the illustrious viscount overhead.

[carefreemonk]

[ TOWEL ] - With everyone drenched, getting dry becomes a top priority for most. Perhaps offering something to dry someone else off with is just what you need to get closer to one another…

The rain had been quite sudden. While Innes had come prepared in many aspects, he had forgotten one key thing - a towel. With his hair being as it was, it was uncomfortable to have it dripping under his shirt and down his back.

But there seemed to be a responsible adult - a professor of some kind, though Innes didn't know him.

"Excuse me, professor, you wouldn't happen to have a towel on you or anything of the sort, would you? I would be happy to trade you a charm for such a favour."

Azama's hair doesn't mind the rain. It's kind of mystifying. Maybe a blessing from the gods? Who knows. That said, the monk himself is not impervious to being soaked overall - and nor is his mood safe from being dampened, either.

Towels in a tidy pile before him, monk looks up and over his shoulder as his space becomes co-occupied.

Though he smiles airily, much akin to his usual self... Azama is grumpy. You would Also be grumpy if you had been trapped in a shrinking closet with your current Archnemesis for any amount of time and forced to smell your own reeking breath to boot. (The breath problem has, mercilessly, since been fixed, but…)

Brows furrowing, Azama stares Innes down hard -- or, that's the impression one might get, despite the professor's eyes remaining shut tight.

Innes's hair… it's not as green as a certain other mosshead Azama knows, but it's still. Sort of? Green? And in a fit of irrationality,

Azama sees red.

Gaze drifts to the towels before him. He moves just slightly, enough to put them within Innes's line of sight. Then...

Then, the monk scoops them up. Buries his face in them. In ALL of them.

"No!" he answers with glee.

Then throws them in the air. They fall in a disarray.

"I've no towels to give, sorry!"

And with a huff, storms out of the room. The offer of a charm had almost been attractive enough... almost.

[carefreemonk]

Azama nods. Yes, the eyes are hereditary...

(Come to think of it, he doesn't also does not remember ever coming across any others with stars in their eyes. What are the odds...?)

As Fogado fearlessly continues, next comes a twitch at the corner of Azama's mouth, usual smile threatening to widen just a sliver. Mitama is rather 'stinkin' witty,' she is!! And though he's proper respectful of that fact, Mr. 'Gado doesn't appear to fear such inclinations from a lady.

Last (for now), but certainly not least. . .

Here, Azama gulps. Leans back a little. This last side of his daughter her friend has just described... Azama hasn't gotten to see much of it. Mostly, he's seen her on the other end, when vulnerable herself, but given the scars he's noted on her, he has no doubt the young man speaks true. She has good friends... but she is a good friend, too.

Which is more than Azama could ever have hoped for.

Thank the gods she hadn't taken after him in that regard.

For a moment, he leaves the conversation in the air. Hardly one to be cowed by such societal anxieties as 'awkwardness,' it isn't because he's in any hurry that Azama finally breaks the silence.

No,

it is simply because he has what he came here for.

With a bloop~ and a splash, Mr. Duck surfaces and, by some miracle, does not sink. Instead, it seemed to make haste in drifting off, off, and away.

"I agree," he says with that same old smile of his. Sometimes it's unnerving. Sometimes it could maybe, just maybe, be reassuring. In this case, coupled with a pensive hum... Which of the two is it?

"I'm glad my daughter has friends like you. She deserves that kind of happiness."

Hoisting himself from the water, Azama hums still, patting at himself with an end of his towel. He glances back over his shoulder. "My apologies, I only just realized I have forgotten a friend I was to meet shortly around this time tonight. Nice chatting with you though, ohoho~"

Nice as it was to hear nice things about his daughter,

Fogado clearly wasn't sweating much coming up with them,

and so the game had lost much of its fun, you see~

fogado gives the duck azama's got clutched in his hand a withered, pitiful look. bubbles surface as the air inside it is replaced with water; fogado distinctly sees himself for a moment in that rubber animal and must refrain from weeping. you poor thing. you were here at the wrong place at the wrong time...

azama appears to take the ' date and not keeper ' line quite well. though fogado had said it to shake suspicion, there is truth to it; regardless of whether that boat ride had gone without a hitch or just plain terrible, he never expected to have her around him for the entire night. the ball is meant for getting to know new folks. what if there's someone here that could draw pictures for her haikus? or who knew about the secretest nap spots in the monastery? networking is important, people!

aaaand now fogado's back in hot water ( ha ha. get it? hot water? wheeeeeeze )---azama has moved on to the next stage of interrogation, which is " how well do you know my daughter. " he's fishing for the right response; is he capable of painting a realistic version of the woman he's come to the ball with?

these sorts of hot-seat queries are just the kind of thing fogado excels at. luckily, however, he does not need to reach deep to find his answers.

" well, for one, our eyes. "

fogado grins. " y'know, that's how we met, actually. i've never met anyone else with eyes like mine! so that's how we got to talkin'. i guess we both have it runnin' in our families? "

next! " but that's just superficial stuff. i also like how stinkin' witty she is. she could set a dude's butt on fire with words alone---i know full well not to mess with her! not that i'd want to, obvs. but when she's not setting dudes' butts on fire, she's really funny! and it makes for good conversations. "

and next! boy, all of these are coming so naturally. what was there to worry about, again? " not to mention totes empathetic. she's understanding if something troubles you, y'know? not in the, like, ' tell me all of your problems and i will fix them all right now ' kind of way. just... a person that'll see you and be there, or give you space if y'want it. no matter what it might be. "

which is why it feels so terrible to hide so much from her. after all of the kindness she's extended to him, and after it being obvious she knows there's more. he can't keep doing this to her for " her sake, " because it was never for " her sake, " was it?

fogado doesn't visibly lose steam, but he can feel a new weight in his chest. " i could go on if y'wanted, but rule of three is pretty neat and tidy. don't'cha agree? "

[carefreemonk]

i'm her date, not her keeper.

"Good answer."

... Azama doesn't say this aloud, unfortunately. Eyes close, pensive. He does like the answer... but admitting as much would be letting Fogado off too easy.

"Right, right..."

Another ducky floats by. Wordlessly, Azama reaches for it. Grabs hold of it. Slowly turns it around in his hands without really looking at it.

He smiles at Fogado.

"My dear Mitama is a delight, isn't she? Tell me-"

He submerges the ducky. Slowly. Deliberately. Were it real, might be drowning by now.

"-What do you like about her?" Bubbles surface overhead poor Mr. Duck's head. Azama could clarify the question with additional queries, like 'as a friend, as a person, or as a date' ...but where's the fun in that?

girl, he's gonna die in this stupid hot bath.

because of course he had to up and give the game away the moment azama came into view. he knows the way an interested body turns; he's done it himself enough times to catch intrigue rolling off like sweat. azama pretends that he dgaf ( Doesn't Give A Flip ), but it is bleedingly obvious that, truly, he dgaf ( DOES Give A Flip ).

it becomes even clearer when one of azama's eyes pops open ( and, for just a moment, fogado allows himself to be amazed. mitama had mentioned that the stars were hereditary, so he shouldn't be surprised, but... y'know ) and focuses right on him. fogado is now under paternal scrutiny, and from what he remembers of it, it's a fate worse than the dungeons.

and he's QUESTIONING him.

" how long... uhh... definitely not recent... " how long ago had that boat ride been? so much has happened between then and now that it's hard to tell. " but she and i split off to, y'know, mingle with others. i'm her date, not her keeper. "

calling himself mitama's date still leaves a nasty sourness on fogado's tongue. he would still like to be that for her, but...

he shouldn't lie to mitama's father. especially not after it was his own fault that he'd crashed and burned this whole shebang... but he also still needs to protect himself. what if azama suddenly gets really buff and angry and starts trying to throw hands? he's gotta be ready for that, man, come on!

and he isn't lying, really. just... presenting things with as much context as necessary. that's all. that's fine, right?

[carefreemonk]

[ HOSHIDO ] - A synchronized dance that must be done by two people. To a slow and gentle melody, the pair moves with fluid purpose, evoking the image of a crane in flight.

Forsyth is not certain how he ended up in this situation, but there is no easy way out of it now. He enjoys dancing, socializing with partygoers and partaking in ball pleasantries.

This current situation, though, is anything but pleasant.

It's not unusual for partners to be swapped after and even during dances. It's a fun experience, usually, being able to meet new people or enrich acquaintanceships, but Forsyth is well-acquainted with this new partner. And he would rather not deepen that connection.

Azama is almost impossible to read at the best of times, but Forsyth can only imagine he is delighted to have him in position. Leading a dance, Forsyth at his mercy. He could detach, seek a different partner, but that would be backing down. Forsyth will not back down.

"How has the ball been treating you so far?" Azama seems experienced in this dance, a further detriment to Forsyth. But he's improved his dancing skills over the years, and he puts one confident foot after the other. If he kicks Azama's a little, throwing him off his rhythm, well. Things happen.

“It’s been treating me just fine, thank you for asking.”

As Azama speaks, he breathes.

‘Of course he breathes,’ you find yourself saying. He’s alive. It is only natural he draw breath. But it is noted here because it is important:

Just moments prior to being roped into this dance, this opportune moment with this most opportune foe,

Azama had fallen victim to a tricksy little scam,

and, well, it’s not his fault if this dance from his homeland had just so happened to need another participant just as he’d swung by and noticed a particular green fellow in need of a partner… before he could go find something to wash his mouth of the taste (and the smell)… He’s nice like that, yes?

A kick hits his boot, and Azama puffs out a breath in feigned hurt - just a little ‘pahh-’ of surprise. Revenge served immediately.

“I hope the ball has been treating you well, also.”

A beat.

“Have you seen our mutual friend in blue anywhere? I had something to ask him.”

He’d make small talk for as long as the dance lasted,

kicks be damned.

[carefreemonk]

[ MINT CANDY or FAKE MINT CANDY ]

“Hello Professor~” Comes a call, before a wayward student makes himself known before the other man. A wayward student who only occasionally shows up to class, that is. Still, he cheekily makes no remark of that sort, instead holding a small handful of wrapped candies.

“Care to have a mint? It’ll help with the mountains of food that they’ve put out for tonight!”

To be honest, he has no idea if the other man will pick out the correct candy or not- the two looked about the same.

All the more fun!

“Well, hello, dear student~!”

Truant or not, the fellow is chipper enough, and Azama will take participation (willing or not) over attendance. Still, whether or not for lack of showing his mug in class, the professor doesn’t have as good a read on this student as he might like,

and so trust is in short supply.

“You know what? I would love a mint.”

These candies are, after all, familiar to the monk. Having handed out a few himself over the past few years, welllll… He may not trust the mints, but he’ll take one regardless.

“Thank you-” Azama smiles, plucks up the offering, and in it goes - leaving him to await his fate.

Ah.

“-most kindly,” he finishes, face neutral. He clears his throat. Coughs behind a closed fist.

Free hand fishes out a starfish charm. The smile he wears, as he holds it out to Lewyn, is genuine. “In gratitude… Augh… If you’ll excuse me…”

He wants to go wash out his mouth, really, he does,

but there’s another stop he needs to make, first.

[carefreemonk]

"Oh, you're…" Mitama's father, she manages to recall in a moment. The man's actual name doesn't matter so much to Sara who has only met him a couple of times at best. He'd been awfully interested in Leif and his history with Mitama when they all returned to the entrance chamber that day, but she could not yet determine if he was a purely doting parent or motivated by something else.

It isn't her place to speculate nor would knowing the specifics of their family change the fact that she has chosen to approach him of her own accord after recognizing him in the crowd of people present tonight.

"Is that a starfish?" Her eyes travel to the little charm admiringly. "I once read in a book they can regenerate lost limbs, though I would be skeptical whether a handmade decoration can perform that feat. Did you know the shape we call stars predate the creatures that live in the sea? This world is full of fun coincidences, isn't it?"

"Azama," the monk supplies helpfully, shaking his head in feigned exasperation that he'd be so soon forgotten. He shrugs, hands on hips, then grins. No harm done.

He lifts his bracelet, better showing off the charm that's caught her attention. It is, indeed, a starfish.

"Is that so? I'm half surprised they would not have featured over the course of study in faith magics, in that case." Of course, such research would not likely be kind to the poor creatures - but then, large leaps in new understanding of knowledge rarely tend to be risk-free. Azama doesn't comment regarding his stance on the matter.

Instead, he performs an experiment he knows to be harmless:

he snaps off a limb from the charm.

"Who knows? Maybe it will have been designed with its muse in mind. Guess we'll find out!" Charm and broken piece are unceremoniously deposited unto Sara.

Then, with a hum, monk shakes his head.

"Coincidences? I wonder. I'm not sure I believe in them. But the world is all interconnected, down to the very dew on the grass on too-early-mornings - that much I do know."

With a slight bow, Azama makes to take his leave.

"I'll let you go enjoy the remainder of the ball now, Miss Sara."

Wow, names aren't that hard to remember, huh?

[carefreemonk]

"Professor," comes the softly-spoken greeting. He is not her professor anymore, but that does not mean she did not appreciate all that she learned from him. Perhaps she may even miss his strange insistence on calling the most quiet, boring student of his midday class. ...Well, maybe by half.

This year her charm sits nestled precariously in the bow of a wrapped gift. Something like last year's bell would have been less easy to lose, but it stands out enough against the dark brown cover that it should be easy enough to spot if it begins rolling its merry way away. Holding it out to him, she bows slightly.

"I think I'll miss your class most of all." Strangely enough, but true even so. "Thank you for looking out for me all this time. I may not have always seemed grateful, but I was. I am."

A second edition of some Archanean text on faith and philosophy, pockets not quite deep enough for a first, but old and well-kept enough to be of some value still.

"Thank you, Professor." Katarina smiles at that, small but unabashed. "I hope you enjoy the ball."

"Hm? Oh, Katarina. Hello."

How curious. Azama is not prone to flights of emotion. But there stirs in him a swell of... something when he is approached by a woman once a student of his, now graduated unto the academy's order of knights.

Brow quirks. "You shouldn't poke fun at your elders, miss." She'd miss his class? It's hard to picture, even as he rescues pearl charm from the top of the gift and attaches it to his bracelet without thinking twice, and then plucks at the wrapping itself without much fanfare. Both brows lift upon the tome's title being revealed - not so much in awe but more so in surprise.

First his birthday, and now this?

What can he possibly have done to deserve such kindness?

Would his eyes be misting were they to creak open? We may never know.

He clears his throat. His old smile is back. He tucks the book to his side with care. With his free hand, he plucks a starfish from his own bracelet to exchange with his-- his not-student.

"Ohoho~ It's not 'professor' anymore, you know. It's just... Azama. This is a poor equivalent to your gift but for the now, I'll admit it's all I have on me. Now then!" He turns on his heel with a small wave of the book. "I must find someplace safe to keep this for the eve. Do try not to have too much fun now~!"

[carefreemonk]

[ from here ] @losojos-decupido

fogado nearly cries when he dips his foot into the warm water. instead of doing that, he tips his entire body inside, basking in the tender embrace of water that doesn't fall out of the sky and isn't freezing freaking cold. like, okay, look, rainstorms are not unique, fogado's been through enough to know how to deal. it's just that they make everything so much worse! looking out at the rough seas, he almost turns green; never ever EVER is he going NEAR a boat until that entire mess dies down. there isn't enough money in the world to change his mind. but this water... now this is nice water. it's warm, it's inside, it's in a fancy room, and he can even press a button to make bubbles. oh man is mom gonna hear about this. he should probably ask this viscount dude who he hired! at some point, a rubber duck ends up on his head. life is peaceful. life is kind. and then. "oh!" fogado blinks his eyes open and looks over. he blinks again. oh. yeah, oh. oh fuck. because who should join him in this pool of peaceful pleasantries than the father of the woman whom he'd just completely beefed their single interaction with?! " azrrblgbg?!?! " fogado blurts with his face submerged. cool it. if that duck falls off, it could blow any semblance of "chill vibes," and then it would get worse. so he sits up only a little bit, drawing his chin out of the water. " err, yup! that's m'name! glad you remembered! " ohhhhhhhhh myyyyyyyyyyyy fawkinggggggggggg dragonsssssssssssssssssssssss. " mitama! yeah, she... went off to get some snacks, last i saw. she'd wanted to peruse the pickins, you know, ha ha... "

Quite a strong reaction for what Azama has intended, for once, as an innocent (?) question. Well, now Fogado's got him nice and curious.

"We shared quite the experience, did we not? Of course I'd remember your name."

Languid and quite comfortable, the monk yawns, stretches. The water runs hot - delightfully so. He sighs, and for a moment, he is at peace. In the next moment, however, he is potentially at war.

One starry eye cracks open, settling first on Fogado's duck, and then on the fellow himself.

"Oh? Off to get some snacks, is she?"

Oh, yes. That does sound about right for her. That being said, Azama doesn't recall coming across her on his way here, nor did it seem to him like Fogado was waiting around for anyone right about now, startled as he had been. Hm.

Hm, hm~

"And how long ago now was that?"

Straight and to the point.

"I wouldn't want to be interrupting... after all, you are her date for the Ball, are you not?"

[carefreemonk]

Mwa ha ha ha~

Here comes the professor of her nightmares, here to tease and taunt and walk ominously toward her, all the while wearing that same old cat's grin on his face--

He's humming to himself, looking pleased as punch. Not a care in the world, and no present regrets - just the way he likes to live his life.

But he's earned his reputation, yes he has~ And gleefully at that - most of the time, anyway. So! It isn't particularly surprising to see a shy one flinch away from his approach.

Not that that's ever stopped Azama.

"Ohoho~! Miss Marianne! You look lovely tonight!"

He beams.

"Why, if my daughter weren't here, you'd surely be in the running for the belle of the ball."

It's... a compliment. Surely?

With a cheerful hum of approval and just a moment's fiddling with his bracelet, monk suddenly thrusts forth a charm: a starfish.

"Here! For you! May the night treat you well, wahahaha~!"

And with a spin on his heels, the monk makes to abscond.

Was he... normal, for once? ? ?

... Or maybe he's just playing the long game and waiting to strike in the future... Who knows!

Grinning Yellows, Spinning Reds

[ FASHION POLICE ] - What in the world is that person wearing, and are you fit to be judging them for it? Or are you instead the culprit in question?

[carefreemonk]

Their family stands out quite a bit in a crowd. Not even taking their eyes into account, bright pink hair tends to be quite noticeable and Azama's hair in turn is quite...attention grabbing. It does not take her long to find him there, and even less time to shrug off the strange amount of relief she feels at the sight of him.

"Father." What preamble is there to offer? That she hopes he has fun? That she expects him to behave? He will do only one of these things, and put in extra effort to spite her if she dares to say it out loud. She focuses instead on detaching one of her charms from her bracelet as she approaches him.

"Here. I expect that your usual jovial personality makes it quite difficult to find people willing to exchange with you, and thus I will fulfill my duty as a good daughter and help you get started." She holds out a little starfish for him to take and, in turn, holds out her own hand expectantly.

"...well? Surely you are not going to deny your own flesh and blood a trinket?"

"Oho~ Now does my daughter not simply look adorable tonight~?"

It makes him wanna pinch her cheeks.

In a rare show of self-preservation, Azama refrains.

(He may, later in the eve, come to regret not ruffling her hair or smudging any makeup just a titch -- she's too cute! And with her wit, doubly dangerously charming. How's a father to expect folks to keep their mitts to themselves, huh?

Ahem. Well. His baby's gone and grown up without him, he must needs remind himself constantly - especially of the part where that was completely his own fault.)

"Hm? What I'm hearing is that you'll need this jovial personality's help to meet your fill of tokens." He pouts. Arms cross loosely over his chest, sweeping sleeves folding into each other. All right. Consideration: over. "Tsk! Far be it from me to refuse in that case."

Can he be normal about his daughter wanting to swap charms with him?

Absolutely not!

(And never you mind that silly pretext she's approached him with.)

He does, nevertheless, feel an incredible surge of warmth in him as he accepts Mitama's token and proffers his own. A starfish for a starfish. At a glance, nothing has changed, but both will know the truth.

Eyes crinkle. "I hope you have yourself a wonderful night, dear. Go and make some memories to cherish, you hear?"

Maybe she'll even deign share some of them with him when next they meet for tea.

[carefreemonk]

This wasn’t the person he was primarily thinking about- a poet with lovely pink hair and starry eyes often sleeping under the shadow of a tree. But hey! Close enough.

A sweet and cheery smile was the first thing Azama would see from the boy, followed by the aroma of roses coming from the bouquet in his hands. “Professor Azama! I didn’t know which flower you liked the most, so I decided on the old and reliable rose. Without thorns, of course.” 

“For this Ethereal Ball, I was thinking about trying something new…and I think you’re just the right fit. Would you like to be my pair this time around? I promise I’ll behave!”

It had been a nice nap he was having, too.

The jury was still out on whether or not waking up to roses made up for it. Taking them in hand, Azama couldn't help but quirk a brow in question. To what did he owe the honour (?) of such a gift...?

"Of course," he parroted, as though, yes, of course, this was all extremely logical and definitely expected. Nothing strange to see here! And on Sylvain continued, revealing his purpose in coming here.

Ah. Well then. Hm...

Hmm...

Hrmmmm...

. . . !

"Ohh, I get it now~" Eyes crinkled with mirth born of sudden realization. "Someone dared you to do this, right? Surely the Sylvain Jose Gautier is not already desperate to the point of genuinely asking this old man to the biggest event of the year. Ha, ha~ Very funny, young man."

Tucking his sleeves back 'neath his head, Azama settles back down into a nap-feasible lean. Cracking one starry eye open at Sylvain, he gives the bouquet a little purposeful waggle.

"... I'll be keeping the flowers all the same, thanks!" His room could do with a little brightening, these days.

[carefreemonk]

Impractical, she says,

but she is onto him before he can fire back a "Why?" with all the glee and whimsy of a child who's decided those three letters make up his very favourite word. Brows pinch as she brings down her judgment with sound finality.

Finger taps at the table in search of a parry. Azama won't be silenced so easily.

"It need not be a battlefield," he counters with a hum. "On the same example as before - the glowing bugs - would it not be romantic to charm one's partner with fireflies on a beautiful, relaxing evening? Ah! But if it were to be applied to a battle... Perhaps siege magics? A powerful Quake is fearsome enough on its own, but if I really wanted to demoralize a foe, I'd perhaps couple it with Freeze or Fracture..."

Perhaps he is thinking on too small of a scale here. Then again, Father had never encouraged him to think creatively. Prayer and devotion were all a man ought ever need.

Vaguely disgruntled, Azama gives a slight shake of his head.

"Then, given the chance, what would you think to fuse together, young miss?"

(Oh, it is very very funny to him to pretend, for now, that she is just another student. Wouldn't want to embarrass her in front of her peers now, would he? 'That's your dad? What??'

... Okay, no, really, he is trying to be on Okay enough behaviour for now, at least where Mitama is concerned. Promise.)

the war eternal