clairatgarregmach

[clairatgarregmach]

With the ruin of Garreg Mach, the ateliers, tailors and cobblers of the surrounding towns become small havens of normalcy for Clair. She's just a girl, shopping for clothes, balancing elegance and whimsy with unerring dexterity — but, as she flicks listlessly through a selection of dresses in one of the larger stores, something doesn't sit quite right. As a Blue Lion and a knight, she holds the privilege of lodging in what remains of the monastery and the honour of aiding in reconstruction, and yet she feels impotent. Strutting around in a whirling skirt and a new pair of heeled boots comes off as crass and thoughtless when she ought to be climbing ladders to repair walls and fixtures. As much as she prides herself on her womanhood, and being able to fuse it effortlessly with the strength of being a noble and a knight… perhaps it holds her back.

She clicks her tongue, brushing away a dress. "Goddess, what to do?"

She walks away from the dress display, noticing someone else perusing the shop's wares. They're dressed in dark blue robes offset by a pair of paler leggings, contrasting their neat pink hair. Clair's own hair is a mess — she really needs a trim, but there have been more pressing matters — and she draws in a breath as she clocks why she might be conscious of that around someone she barely knows — they have the air of a Garreg Mach student, but nothing that Clair can tie to a name.

She walks over to them, noticing that they're inspecting a selection of pants and trousers. Interesting.

"Oh, hello," Clair says coolly, as if she hadn't very intentionally approached this person. "Are you from Garreg Mach? I mean, you know, what's left of it — pffft — I'm Clair, Blue Lions student. I'm intrigued by those pants you're looking at — goddess knows I need something a touch more practical in my wardrobe these days. You seem to have that figured out — I love your outfit. Sorry, am I intruding?"

She heaves in a heavy, shaky breath. What has gotten into her?

clair and present gender

clair can have half a gender epiphany and a little toxic yuri as a treat (feat. @spinnerofhope)

[clairatgarregmach]

clair and present gender

clair can have half a gender epiphany and a little toxic yuri as a treat (feat. @spinnerofhope)

[clairatgarregmach]

Before Clair had met Cynthia, she wouldn’t have expected anyone to be so rapidly amenable to turning genteel teatime into an impromptu shoe shopping trip, but now she understood that this was just the way Cynthia was with, presumably, everything. She followed her new companion down the road to town, unbuttoning her coat as the afternoon sun bore down.

“Where does someone get so much energy?” she muttered, hoping that Cynthia was out of earshot or not fully paying attention as she took steps two at a time. Clair had no such luxury of mobility — she could tease and needle boorish boys about high heels all she wanted, but there was a dull reality that her boots were meant for tea parties and royal courts, not a brisk walk downhill.

Cynthia finally slowed as the way into town filled with milling crowds, and Clair was finally able to push herself into a regal stride and catch up, albeit with her coat tied around her waist to save her dress from a sweat bath (which she had to admit was kind of a cute way to match Cynthia’s energy). She looked around the town square eagerly — yes, technically she was only here for shoes, but with so much to do around here she might as well make the most of the trip.

“Alright,” she said. “New boots first — you can try some on too, I think there’s some styles that would suit you — but then perhaps we could do something else? You’ve been rather a delight to spend time with; why let it end so soon?”

“Huh? Why are you teasing boys?” Cynthia assumed that she didn't mean the fun kind of teasing, where friends lovingly bullied each other. But then, Clair didn't seem the mean type. Cynthia couldn't think of any boy she'd tease.

Okay, maybe one, but that was a whole other story. Ah, Cynthia, focus!

“Ooh, shopping!” That was a topic she could latch onto. “Back where I’m from, we couldn’t go shopping much, so it was kind of a fun novelty when we could go shopping again.” Well, it was less of a where she came from, and more of a when. Cynthia didn’t think Clair needed a whole diagram of the apocalypse over tea. Even Cynthia could tell that was a little too much.

She laughed at her companion, but not unkindly. “You’re not boring, trust me. I get it, new person, you’re not gonna be the most talkative or whatever.” Cynthia was used to shy people. She was also used to tougher nuts to crack open. Honestly, she didn’t mind if Clair wasn’t as boisterous as Cynthia - there would be trouble if they were both hyperactive!

“I mean, I don’t have a lot of money,” Cynthia said, “but I’m happy to come with you anyway. It’ll be fun!” At least if she was walking, she wouldn’t be kicking poor Clair’s legs.

[clairatgarregmach]

[ooc: me omw to be a Fucking Nuisnce and make my own damn ask meme because i found this ask meme theme of lyrics from albums but couldn't find one for my fave]

AJR - The Maybe Man [Sentence Starters]

"Wish I was a stone, so I couldn't feel"

"I'd miss the way we make up and smile"

"I don't wanna know what my friends think"

"You won't believe me when I cry for real"

"Yeah, I'd be loved no matter what"

"Well, I'm not that superstitious, but I knock on wood a lot"

"Someday, won't this be funny?"

"Could you teach me to be ruthless?"

"I won't feel much - at least I won't be feeling this"

"Guess all of the friends that I pissed off all talked"

"Could I start again somehow?"

"So I spent last night blowing up my life..."

"I could hate my guts when the sun comes up, but I like myself like this"

"Bet you won't believe it, but you kinda set me free"

"Don't look at me, don't look at me - I'm just too dumb"

"Don't you like a little better when you don't understand?"

"I guess this is just what I am"

"I'm stuck in this life"

"Got it out of my system, didn't I?"

"Well, I wanted to be wanted"

"Life is pretty long, it could turn into something"

"I think you'll turn out to like it"

"I'm sorry to be that guy"

"This is how you do it, right?"

"The room's spinning all around me"

"I don't know if there's anything else"

"Getting a life's a little like dying"

"Hello, how you doing - am I talking too fast?"

"I'm running on adrenaline and one-hour naps"

"You'd probably think that that was the real me"

"You're losing their attention, buddy - move on"

"Don't wanna hear your problems, 'cause there's just one in my head"

"Now it's late - I really gotta go"

"How long have I been out of town?"

"I'm doing fine, speak for yourself"

"You don't have to try so hard, you know?"

"I think it's too late to figure this out"

[clairatgarregmach]

“Fun.” Clair rolled the word around in her mouth as she withdrew her boots under her chair to prevent any Cynthia-induced scuffs. “You know, I’ve been so busy getting used to the Academy and trying to keep up with my studies that it’s not crossed my mind much — unless teasing good-for-nothing boys counts.”

She felt almost guilty. Cynthia was such a font of exuberance ��� all frilly skirts and silly asides and untempered eagerness; she made Clair look positively stoic by comparison. The rigours of nobility and the Deliverance alike had forged her into something remarkably hard-edged. To her, something as innocuous as drinking tea was a calculated ritual — Cynthia clearly felt completely unrestrained about the matter. The toothpaste jibe still rattled around inside Clair’s skull, feeling vaguely uncouth.

“I suppose I’ve found shopping rather enjoyable lately,” she muttered, taken aback by the lack of confidence in her own voice. “There are so many delightful styles here in Fodlan — even the height of Valentian fashion feels positively dour by comparison.”

Something started to hum in her brain as she took Cynthia in from across the table, and she stifled a light chuckle as she forced herself past the ridiculousness of the thought.

“I tell you what — if I haven’t completely faltered in your eyes with how devastatingly not fun I am, perhaps we could go and check out the new stock at the cobbler’s in town sometime? I’m dying for a new pair of boots — that’s the kind of flavour I need in my life.”

“Mint? Isn’t that what they put in toothpaste?” Cynthis pulled a face. It wasn’t like she didn’t like toothpaste or anything, but still. She wasn’t an expert on tea either, so what did she know? “Eh, it’s fine. It’s all hot leaf juice in the end, right?”

Wait, was that the wrong thing to say? Ugh, Cynthia didn’t know how to deal with nobles. One of her friends was a princess, yes, but it was different. She and Lucina were the same by the end, two soldiers fighting side by side. It was only when going back to the past - or current day, she supposed - that she realised things like status mattered to people. And, well, it was clear Clair was not a common woman.

Cynthia did not know how to deal with that. Anxious, she started to swing her legs.

“Oh, I don’t mind waiting - it’s not like I’m really here for the tea. It’s just an easy way to lure people to hang out with me, you know?” Cynthia always saw lots of people enjoying tea, so she figured this was just a normal pastime in Fódlan. Since everyone else seemed to be out here, she seemed to be right. This wasn’t her idea of fun, but she didn’t want to scare off new friends. Besides, what was the point in making new friends if you didn’t try new experiences?

She kicked her feet into the table leg. “Plus, I can talk for ages, so don’t worry about-” It turned out, it wasn’t the table leg she was kicking. “Oh, shoot! Sorry, I thought that was the table.” She stopped kicking her feet. “Sorry, I’m so bad at keeping still. If I kick you again, please say, okay? I promise it’s not on purpose.”

Now Cynthia was even more agitated. Oh man, she had to salvage this somehow. “So uh, Clair, what do you do for fun normally?”

[clairatgarregmach]

“If I think about it…”

Gears turned in Clair’s mind. She was the kind of girl easy to mistake for a dull, thoughtless noble — a sentiment she resented incisively. She did indeed have a javelin throw or three in her past, and Lysithea’s musings had made something click.

“A javelin, although compact by comparison to a lance, is still a rather large and clumsy implement to handle atop a pegasus. It requires remarkable concentration and patience to use correctly.”

She paused again, more pieces settling into place as she glanced over her partner’s textbooks. Spindly diagrams laid out the dynamics of heavy-looking dark magic spells and incantations — Lysithea was clearly the sort to take this subject seriously, but dashes of it made sense to Clair.

“If I’m not reading this book like an absolute buffoon,” she muttered, running a fingertip over the arcs of an inscription, “then using dark magic from above should require similar skills. You still have to concentrate and keep yourself pulled taut, and when it comes time to hurl your spell, you ought to aim it at the biggest target you can since it’s a bit too mercurial to fly true like an arrow.”

She smiled sweetly, drumming her fingers against the table.

“Tell me if that’s anything.”

Bad Company (And I can't Deny)

[clairatgarregmach]

Clair suspected she was more water and mud than human being by this point. Her stylish coat had quickly failed her under the driving rain, leaving her dress sodden and hanging heavily on her shoulders, and she was honestly surprised that neither of her flooded boots had been pulled from her feet by one of the stickier puddles on this wretched hillside. Her heels had dug themselves into a rut of soft mud, but she could pull herself free whenever she wanted. She just needed to find any motivation to do so — motivation that had been fully drained from her about three stuck boots ago.

She almost didn’t catch the voice behind her over the hammering of the rain, only turning to verify that it was more than just the wind when something nudged the back of her boot. She steadied herself against the hill with one hand, mud oozing between her fingers, and looked down to see one of her classmates — Ashe, a pale-haired boy she shared a couple of classes with — crawling at her feet. Odd.

“Hello, Ashe,” she said calmly. “I, uh, suppose we’ve both made it farther than we thought we would? I don’t need a hand, if that’s what you were asking — I’ll get myself out of this mire when I am good and ready. Judging by our relative loneliness, I think one or both of us should be in a good spot to take this hill… eventually.”

She drew a sharp breath with her last word, her shoulders sagging. She was a brave knight, fought in the Deliverance, wasn’t going to let some puny hill defeat her just because Garreg Mach had made life a bit more pleasant again! It was just… Goddess, she’d be bathing for days if she wanted to make it out of this one with a passing grade. She glanced down at Ashe again — maybe the boy could make himself useful.

King of the Hill: Sopping Wet Edition

[clairatgarregmach]

Oh, the boy was fuming — so delightfully incensed that he was willing to spew falsehoods about a girl he barely knew! Clair wasn’t going to stand for it.

“Ugh — clueless, as expected,” she tutted, slightly lifting the hem of her dress. “This is an official uniform dress; I’ve just accessorised it.” She plucked her hat off her head and flicked it gently across his chest. “Not that you would know anything about style, it would seem, despite your cute boots.”

She readjusted her hat and took a couple of steps backwards — they were probably holding up the line, and it’d be a delightful little slap in Shoe Boy’s face if she could flawlessly walk backwards in heels. A ridiculous accolade? Maybe, but she’d take it.

“And how dare you insinuate that I’m not here to learn? Do you think I just went through a whole morning of classes and seminars for the fun of it? Would I be here in the canteen if I didn’t need food to ready myself for more of them? Typical nobles – grow up. Think before you speak. Do other things, you know? And stop bothering me. I don’t care how much fun you might find it.”

Clair would never openly admit it, even though it was probably written all over her face as she turned back around to order her food, but she was having just as much fun toying with Shoe Boy as she suspected he was with her.

click-clacks and clapbacks

in which clair and @freliasarrow return to their bullshit

[clairatgarregmach]

Clair did not know squat about magic. She’d observed odds and ends in Valentia, but what little she’d been able to glean from her friends in the Deliverance evidently did not transfer to Fodlan’s way of doing things. A group project about the magical tactics of Dark Fliers? She stood no chance, and if the hands-on-hips stance of the tiny girl staring her down in the library was any indication, leaning on the “group” aspect of this project was going to be a tricky ask.

“Hello!” she said, heedless of the pale red eyes examining her up and down. “I’m Clair — you must be Lysithea. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She paused. “I’m not much of a dark magic expert, but I do know a thing or two about flying a pegasus.”

Clair didn’t need dark-magic mind powers to tell that her new partner was unimpressed. She duly changed tack.

“I suppose you ought to know that “dark and brooding” rarely works on me. If we’re going to get this blasted thing even halfway done, we could at least try some level of emotion on each other? Isn’t dark magic born of powerful emotions?”

She neglected to tell Lysithea that that line might have come from a book in the fiction section. Besides, surely the “Dark” half of their strange by-our-powers-combined Dark Flier duo would swiftly correct her if she was wrong.

Bad Company (And I can't Deny)

[clairatgarregmach]

A packed morning of classes and seminars had not stopped Clair from dressing her absolute best - a short uniform dress accented with a capelet and hat, dark stockings, and (as a matter of immense pride and mild spite) knee-high boots with tall, thin heels. Still, all the fashion in the world couldn’t stave off human necessities, and she hustled into the canteen after her final lesson of the morning with a growling stomach.

As she joined the line for her food, she heard another pair of heels clicking up behind her. She turned with a pleasant smile, expecting perhaps the ever-elegant Celica or that Dorothea girl she kept meaning to strike up a chat with, but her lips twisted into a scowl as she was instead met with the equally fouled face of Shoe Boy from the courtyard, still wearing his hypocritical heeled boots.

“Oh,” she grumbled. “Shoe Boy.”

It felt crass to say that Shoe Boy had been spinning and simmering in Clair’s mind ever since their fateful encounter, but it was tragically true. She didn’t even know his name (she’d heard snippets and whispers, but hadn’t been able to nail anything down. Ian, maybe? Angus?) and yet his unprompted vitriol had settled atop her thoughts, forcing her to push through with bitterness and excellent shoes.

She smirked. “I still love your boots, you know? I admire a man with confidence and flair in his fashion like that. How long have you had them for?”

That ought to push some buttons, she thought with wicked glee.

click-clacks and clapbacks

in which clair and @freliasarrow return to their bullshit

[clairatgarregmach]

click-clacks and clapbacks

in which clair and @freliasarrow return to their bullshit

[clairatgarregmach]

Clair snatched the shoe from the man’s grip with her fingertips, still scowling at him.She flicked dust off her stocking, ensuring that it flew in his general direction, then slipped her shoe back on and refixed its buckles.

“I’ll be glad not to. Whatever you think is sensible is probably far too dour for my wardrobe.”

Shooting him one more look to ward off any unwarranted chivalry, she pushed herself to her full height. She brushed off her dress, looked down at her feet to make sure she wasn’t going to stumble again or, goddess forbid, break a heel… and noticed something curious about this bitter boy’s boots. They had heels too – not thin, elegant ones like her shoes did, more of a thick, sturdy block, but definitely at least a couple of inches in height. Add “hypocrisy” to his list of sins.

“You have nice boots,” she tutted, poking one with the toe of her shoe. “As you might expect, I rather like the heels on them – are they specially made for bandit routing? Or are you not sufficiently satisfied with your height?” She straightened her posture to try and meet his eyeline. “Goddess, how dare someone short do anything to improve their stature?”

She flicked a dismissive hand at him and spun on her heel, intending to leave this disaster behind as fast as her shoes could carry her.

shoes (swap), receiver removes sender’s shoes for them (Clair’s being a lazy brat and needs a pathetic man to help her with her boots :p)

( actions speak louder than words ; accepting )

Innes was not a healer.

He knew some basics; it was the kind of thing one had to learn during battle. Don’t rip an arrow out without a healer present, don’t wrap a wound with a dirty bandage if it could be helped, those were the sort of things Innes learned.

So when a girl had tripped in the middle of the courtyard, and no one else seemed to notice, Innes had to help. He wasn’t one to leave someone struggling if he could help it, but he never liked to be a first resort.

“You wouldn’t have tripped, were you wearing less ridiculous shoes,” Innes scolded the girl. Really, who would wear shoes like this to the academy? “This is a military academy, not a fashion show. Perhaps this will teach you some sensibility.”

He looked down at the girl’s foot. Hm. “Sit still, allow me to assess the damage.” Not that he could tell - he wasn’t a healer - but he could take a good guess how much trouble the girl was in. Carefully, he peeled the shoe from the girl’s foot. It seemed fine. “Does it hurt?”

[clairatgarregmach]

At this point, Clair was being stung from all possible angles. Her dignity had been whacked beneath the earth’s surface with her prat-fall, her ankle faintly burned as her dainty shoe was removed from it, and now this pompous silver-haired scoundrel had dared to hurl a jab at her pride and style! She felt the sting most keenly in her cheeks, and settled for focusing it into a scowl.

“I’m quite alright,” she grumbled. “It hurts a touch, but I don’t think there’s any real damage — thank the goddess, really. I’d hate to be stopped from wearing my best shoes.”

She looked up bitterly at the man, who still had a hand on her shoe. Shaking her head, she flicked her arm towards it.

“I’d like that back, you know. Clearly you have no appreciation for it.” She sighed. “Too gracious of me — expecting a dull man to understand the necessity of good shoes. For what it’s worth… two points, actually. One: I happen to have the morning off and thought I might dress for the occasion, and two…” She looked him up and down — willowy, lean, other adjectives to describe a man for whom physicality was not a priority. “I think I could take on a man like you in a pair of heels anyway.”

shoes (swap), receiver removes sender’s shoes for them (Clair’s being a lazy brat and needs a pathetic man to help her with her boots :p)

( actions speak louder than words ; accepting )

Innes was not a healer.

He knew some basics; it was the kind of thing one had to learn during battle. Don’t rip an arrow out without a healer present, don’t wrap a wound with a dirty bandage if it could be helped, those were the sort of things Innes learned.

So when a girl had tripped in the middle of the courtyard, and no one else seemed to notice, Innes had to help. He wasn’t one to leave someone struggling if he could help it, but he never liked to be a first resort.

“You wouldn’t have tripped, were you wearing less ridiculous shoes,” Innes scolded the girl. Really, who would wear shoes like this to the academy? “This is a military academy, not a fashion show. Perhaps this will teach you some sensibility.”

He looked down at the girl’s foot. Hm. “Sit still, allow me to assess the damage.” Not that he could tell - he wasn’t a healer - but he could take a good guess how much trouble the girl was in. Carefully, he peeled the shoe from the girl’s foot. It seemed fine. “Does it hurt?”

[clairatgarregmach]

Clair laughed softly, inviting Cynthia to sit. Her mind was already thrumming: so much to go off — this was wonderful! Where to start…

“It’s quite alright — I’m a pegasus rider too, so I’m quite used to having to clean a stench off myself before I head off to something more proper. They’re wonderful creatures, but they have their… foibles.”

Cynthia settled into her chair, and Clair steepled her fingers together atop the table. She ought to have looked less nervous, but to be fair, her companion was clearly matching her energy.

“Now, on to matters of tea. I hear the mint variety here is quite good. Shall we try it?”

She waved over a server and requested a pot of mint tea. The aside that it was a very popular flavour felt double-edged — Clair could at least surmise that it’d be good if so many others enjoyed it, but it was a pleasant day, and so many of those others were already here. She stole a glance at the slightly frantic-looking server and sighed, settling into her chair and crossing her legs under the table. They might be waiting a while.

“I hope you don’t mind if there’s a wait,” she muttered. “At least it gives us some time to converse.”

She was right: with seemingly half of Garreg Mach wanting a pleasant spot of afternoon tea, the two of them had plenty of time to get to know each other. Cynthia was very eager — her “NEW FRIEND” promise had been anything but half-hearted — so Clair wasn’t sure whether it was eagerness or impatience that was to blame when she felt a soft jabbing at her feet. She looked down to see Cynthia idly kicking in her general direction with her dark blue wedge-heeled boots. Clair pulled her legs back and sighed.

“I like your boots, but you are rather prodding me with them.”

Cynthia did not need an excuse to make new friends. Still, she thought a fancy tea party would be nice. It was an excuse to look nice for a day, drink tea like a proper lady, and all of that stuff. She’d never had a chance when she was younger, and now that she was an adult, damn it, she wanted to be pretty and drink tea with a new friend.

She made sure she was freshly bathed (no one liked a stinky pegasus girl), her clothes were nice (she didn’t have much money, but she still wore her best outfit), and she even tied her hair into one single ribbon at the back (very mature, she thought). Except she had left everything to the very last minute, and of course, this meant she had to rush.

Her knee high boots, thankfully, were sturdy. However, she wasn’t used to running in a frilly skirt, and she barely made it without toppling over. “Phew,” she sighed as she got to the table. She sat her hands on her hips and looked at her companion. “Yep, that’s me - Cynthia!” She really needed to workshop a title for herself.

“Ooh, am I late?” She looked at the clocktower. “Double phew, I’m right on time!” She sat down across from Clair. “Sorry, I was so busy this morning with my pegasus, and then I thought, well I really should bathe - no one likes the smell of horse dung at a tea party, right?” Whoops, that’s oversharing. Clair might not even like pegasi!

“Er, sorry. What tea should we get? I’m not picky; I don’t really know much about tea.” She paused. “Well, maybe not pine needle. Tried that on the road - it kinda sucks. But it might be better here, I dunno. Your choice!”

[clairatgarregmach]

It had been pure luck that Clair had been the first to wander into the Golden Deer common room on a dull, grey day and notice a scrawled message on the notice board offering a “DELIGHTFUL TEA PARTY FOR NEW FRIEND”, but as she sat in front of her mirror applying a few final dashes of makeup, she wasn’t leaving anything to chance. Her soon-to-be acquaintance, who she had learned was named Cynthia, ought to be nothing less than dazzled. She fiddled with the bows in her hair, pulled a thin coat on over her dress, and neatly laced her gold-trimmed boots.

Perfect.

The weather hanging over Garreg Mach’s tea gardens was more pleasant than on the day she’d accepted Cynthia’s request, and she briefly shielded her eyes from the sun as she sat down at an open table. Clair pondered making a request for some tea, so she wouldn’t have to wait for it once Cynthia arrived, but the potential for rudeness tamped that thought down. After all, she was clueless on her new friend’s tea preferences.

When she spotted a girl with pale brown hair bounding across the gardens, energy uncontainable even by stylish attire, she readied herself for something fruitier than she was used to. She waved cordially as the girl skidded to a stop in front of her.

“Why, hello! You must be Cynthia. I’m Clair - it’s a pleasure. Did you… think you were running late?”

She chided herself internally for that last quip. Probably not as funny as she’d wanted — perhaps Cynthia simply lived her life in a rush? Clair supposed she was about to find out.

@justicespeared

cc'd in

a non-mission board thread feat. justicespeared

[clairatgarregmach]

cc'd in

a non-mission board thread feat. justicespeared

[clairatgarregmach]

Clair jolted backwards hastily, all too eager to avoid the foul fate that had befallen Celica. Her once-sleek uniform boots were heavy, laden with mud and loose foliage - she was barely surprised or displeased when her heels settled noisily into a blessedly shallow mud puddle. After all, Celica had it much worse in the present moment, the hem of her dress now hidden below the murky water's surface. When the princess had said that "things" happened in these swamps...

"Are you alright?" Clair spluttered, finally gathering enough composure for coherent speech. "I can't imagine it's particularly comfortable down there."

She scanned the treeline, making sure that none of the other swamp-things might happen to them while she made an attempt to rescue Celica. They hadn't yet seen any indication of the archers they were supposed to be looking for, and yet they'd already found a way to be in trouble. Simply fantastic. Truly a wonderful position to be in.

The water rippled against Celica's dress as she half-heartedly attempted to free herself, and Clair refocused.

"Okay," she breathed. "Take my hand - I'll try and get you out."

Celica reached out, and Clair stepped forward to meet her. There was just one minor issue: the mud her boot-heels were stuck in was somehow simultaneously slippery, sticky, and every other thing you wouldn't want a substance to be. Clair's body moved a lot faster than her feet, and a thoughtless tug at her boots sent her flailing forward. A pegasus knight learns an awful lot about how to fall when they start training, so she caught herself with her elbows and managed to save at least a smidge of her dress from smearing against the sludgy swamp floor.

She glanced up at an increasingly sunken Celica.

"Well, that makes two of us. How's life?"

@anthieseofvalentia

Sapphire Skies, Mud Up To My Thighs

November 2024 Mission Board - Flying +1

with clairatgarregmach