crevassier

[crevassier]

There are only so many bridges left to burn before you find yourself an island.

Sylvain quietly wondered whether that was said as a warning or a threat- but then again, he always knew that was the case. The realization that most of his bonds, perhaps all of them if he had to be brutally honest with himself, were all at the mercy of the sands of time. Some would vanish into dust faster than others, but all were fated to eventually disappear if he was lucky, or explode in his face and carve a crater in the space they once resided in his heart at the worst. It wasn’t a matter of how, just when.

He wondered how much of it was salvageable- if any was salvageable at all. He’d continue to be tied to Dimitri, Felix and Ingrid at least by duty and their noble titles, all houses closely serving the crown and each with a vow of undying loyalty to their liege as knights. They’d continue to see each other, work together, attend events together, but with a crevice clearly separating him from the rest. There would be no warmth, only neutral, professional tolerance. In fact, he could almost feel the beginning of it right now.

Could he salvage this?

Or- as his conversation with that knight before had gone, had he added so much to Dimitri’s plate that the prince chose to cut off his losses? Was there any benefit to keeping Sylvain around as a friend to begin with? Felix, for all his bluntness, covered in thorns like an awful berry bush, was caring and stubbornly loyal- him and Dimitri’s synergy in battle was ideal. Ingrid was the very image of what a knight should be, on top of being a most lovable horse geek with a heart of gold. What does he offer to the prince? An endless stream of problems.

He saw the cape’s fabric wrinkling into Dimitri’s fist, a gust of freezing cold brushing past his chest. Giving up or lying would be easy, just say he’s tired and that nothing really happened.

But while everything seemed so obviously lost- man, he wanted to fight for it. He really did. To claw at and skin his fingers into the rocky wall of that well ages ago trying to climb it in vain, to not just lie down as a dying horse. 

“I saw Dorothea getting near Miklan.” Sylvain clenched his teeth, keeping it all at bay. “So I tried to drag her away because I don’t want my brother getting near any girls. But she exploded at me for it, and we had a fight. Ferdinand then showed up to back her up and things died down after.” A pause. “I gave her a piece of my mind. The same way she gave me a piece of hers.”

Truths he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know or not, but perhaps that he needed to. That nasty, unfulfilling bitterness swirling inside his heart at having gambled and won but the prize wasn’t enough to fill the void of addiction left behind. 

“Ever since that festival I’ve been trying, Your Highness. Father told me to try to do better so I tried to, but each time I would get either yelled at, punched or slapped. Even when I did or said nothing. She even had the gall to compare me to Miklan lf all people, and then got shocked when I got mad at her for it.” Even remembering it set the tired ashes in his mind blaze, even though no embers were able to find sustenance. 

It all just proved to me that trying just wasn’t worth it.

“I can tell when you got stuff ready on your tongue. Come on, just say it already.” Stop with the princely theatrics. Sink those claws and fangs as deep as possible and rip chunk after chunk.

"I know what you feel when you see me, Dimitri. I can see it in your eyes."

Disappointment. Weariness. Annoyance. Anger.

"Say it."

@blaiddllodi

la chancla (it's areadbhar)

continued from here | @blaiddllodi we're really in it now homie ong

[crevassier]

- a month home [side missions!]

Sylvain received a letter mentioning possible tensions near the border as reconstruction efforts are ongoing, and with the upcoming winter he felt it would be best for him to spend the month in Gautier and help his people. Not quite to engage in battle, but rather to serve as a living deterrent. The Lance of Ruin is still active, so watch it!

But there is also a personal factor to his trip. After everything that has happened in consecutive moons, the war, the festivities, the Battle of Eagle and Lion and finally the ball, Sylvain acknowledges that his mental state is simply put: at its worst. Sylvain just…really wants to visit his mom and get a hug. Hi mom.

As a result though, Sylvain will not be available for any of the Mission Board prompts! But instead I’ll be creating a set of little prompts for anyone who wants to tag along. You can assume it as your muse going on a sidequest, and Sylvain will be personally accompanying you.

______

Llefelys, Southern Gautier - A merchant town closer to the borders of Itha that suffered a hit to its economy after the war and is still trying to get back on its legs. Merchants claim the routes are still crawling with all sorts of Ice Beasts that have only gotten bolder and more aggressive as winter approaches, while others say the town’s entertainment scene has gone dry as artists have yet to resume their activities in full. 

Tasks: Search through snowy routes for Ice Beasts, Kickstart some fun within the town to encourage performers. What fun? I don't know, you do you.

Glaísne, Capital - The heart of the Gautier territory, dealing with leftover issues but otherwise stable. Citizens prepare for raging blizzards, in particular farmers trying to ensure their livestock survive the winter. At the Gautier Estate, Sylvain seems to be going through documents with the Margravine.

Tasks: Aid farmers with livestock, tea time or a tour at the Gautier Estate. Say hi to the Margravine!

Ruad, Northern Gautier - One of the towns closest to the border with Sreng, it is mostly inhabited by soldiers tasked with patrolling the area day and night. The atmosphere is tense- there have been reports of movement on the other side of the Ruska Mountains, even though raids during winter are rare due to weather hazards.

Tasks: Join the border patrol and report any suspicious activity, Aid Pegasus Knights in preparing their mounts for winter flight.

Camp Laëtitia Zoe, Northwestern Gautier - A camp named after the first wielder of the Lance of Ruin after Gautier himself, it serves as the main training facility for those who wish to join the Margrave’s elite Garde Rouge. Schedules are tight and rough, training is absurd, but those are some of Faerghus’ fiercest warriors.

Tasks: Swim on a frozen lake to prove your might, Learn how to tank magic blows (yes, tank. with no shields. Just take the blow and hope it works)

Neara, Western Gautier - A rather big shore city, fishermen are setting sail towards cold waters for game. The seas are unusually rough this time around, and some wonder if there may be beasts waiting under the surface. At the docks, taverns are lively with soldiers and sailors, and some have begun a brawling tournament like the good ol’ times. Which means, it’s in the snow, shirtless.

Tasks: Help the fishermen prepare their ships, try the tavern fight. (REWARD: a basket of exotic butters)

[crevassier]

The return from the ball was a mixture of relief and further anxiety. Finally free from that miserable shore plagued by storms, surrounded by people who either stared at him with disgust, abhorrent curiosity or false pity, in a country with people who so far only proved to be either maliciously ignorant or rotten to the core. But now, he was left to his own devices- living at the end of a hallway where the mere act of trying to reach his safespace meant doing a walk of shame before his own friends. Usually this wasn’t something he cared about, but now their presence burned into his skin.

You’re making things harder for your prince. You’re stressing out your friends. You’re hurting your family.

Thoughts still rolling around in his head, stubbornly banging against his skull and refusing each and every attempt to push them down. The constant reminded that everything that he did- his revenge against these women who saw him as a prize, his want to destroy himself in the process, all of it, had a kickback aimed at anyone who dared to care for him.

Sylvain wanted to ask why- why even care? But at the same time he didn’t want to know the answer. He didn’t want them to rethink their decision and then choose to abandon him.

That’s why when he saw a glimpse of golden- braided, long, lacking the deep blue of house Blaiddyd and instead glinting with the emerald eyes of Galatea, he tried to keep a thin, tattered veil of normalcy. If he at least avoided being scrutinized too closely by Ingrid he’d be able to avoid another scolding or questions prodding at his core, digging into his heart for things he didn’t want to talk about.

Or rather that he did, but felt he couldn’t. Because far too many people would scoff at it, laugh, use it as a sword against himself, and Sylvain knew he was at a point where these actions would have an effect. He no longer had the thick shell of varnish to protect himself with, his skin exposed and raw, feelings barely slipping out of his sleeves which, contrasting to his usual ways, were rolled down and covering up his forearms. His jacket, often open and showing off the white dress shirt, was too buttoned up giving him a look similar to the average student roaming the Academy halls.

It was just the clump of wild red hair, painfully Gautier, that made him easily identifiable.

“A…hey Ingrid. Uh, sure.” He should’ve known that there was no way to escape the keen eyes of a pegasus knight, much less if said knight was Ingrid. Kneeling onto the ground, torso straightened so as to avoid bending at the middle, the ginger began to refill each hole with a handful of dirt. “So…I didn’t see you at the party haha. How did it go?”

Just keep it at small talk. Maybe make some scathing remarks about flirting with girls and annoy her enough to make her stop asking things.

“I got to see a bunch of pretty ladies myself. Hilda was looking like a jewel on my arm, I’m a lucky guy.” Though even that lacked the teasing smugness. It almost sounded earnest- cute for most, but for Sylvain, absurdly wrong.

@burningquake

wormwood in the garden

[crevassier]

Sliding hands into his pockets so as to keep them busy, Sylvain listened to the margrave’s words while trying to keep a casual front. “Maybe…but I’m just wearing it to match with the girl I came to the ball with. She’s pink all over, so.” He knew the costume wasn’t to Matthias’ preferences- Sylvain stuck out like a bright pink thumb, but it was for Hilda. It could slide, at least in his book.

Then the dreaded question. He could lie- or try to, and end up with a half truth at his lap because the margrave was more intelligent than that. “Not the best, but it’s going. Got to talk with some friends, have a dance or two. It’s fine.”

“And yours?”

[ TOWEL ]

Sylvain has tried to avoid crossing paths with his father even after their exchange- though now it was less for the situation with Miklan, and more for the fact he didn’t want Matthias to see him like this.

He knew his father too well. He knew Matthias hurt every time he saw Sylvain getting into trouble, getting hurt be it emotionally or physically, that no matter how hard he tried to make it seem like he didn’t care or that Sylvain should’ve ‘done better to avoid it’, it still reached deep into the man’s heart much to the ginger’s own anguish.

This pain should be to himself only. It should never dig into the flesh of his loved ones.

But they cared, and to care for Sylvain is to stand within a bomb’s detonation zone.

“Father? Hey. Uh…here, you could use some of those.” Trying to hide behind rose lenses while knowing his efforts would be futile, Sylvain held up a pair of folded towels to the margrave, eyes carefully trying to take in whatever details he could from his father. He just looked drenched, as if he had jumped into the sea for whatever reason- or stood outside motionless as the storm roared.

Sylvain's voice is unmistakable on his ears and he resolves his back to stand firm. Towels held out are taken within gauntlets and he first dries his face and the water drops threatening to fall from lashes. "I know this is Adrestian gathering, but that is still quite a vibrant outfit." There was much to be said of it but...reprimand could be saved for later...whenever that ended up being. "And your evening?" He knew why the boy hadn't asked but that wouldn't spare him from Matthias's scrutiny.

[crevassier]

[ SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN ] - A few determined souls refuse to let the night end without a spark, so they chose one closet in the mansion to mark as the grounds for a game where two people are shoved into a confined space for seven minutes and momentum is meant to take care of the rest. Anyone might very well be the next victim…

Giddy with delight, Mercedes laughs at the suggestion, face aflush from dancing. The suggestion is ridiculous but she laughs along, allowing herself to be guided into the closet, clutching a plate of sweet buns close to her chest. It would be a real tragedy to lose them, after all. She steps back as the door closes, bumping into a firm, warm body behind her. Twirling in place, Mercedes squints in the darkness, before giving up and whispering an incantation to summon a tiny flame above her fingertips.

"Sylvain?" Mercedes whispers, taking in the lines of his face in the low light. Something about his expression and the downturn of his eyes bothers her. It's gone within an instant. She settles down, crosse legged on the floor and looks up at him. "Care to share these with me? Today is my birthday, you know. So I'm pretty sure you're obliged to indulge me."

"I know this might not be what you were hoping for playing this game but I'm sure there's worse company, too."

Had this been many months ago, before everything in his life seemed to have decided to take the quickest way downwards, Sylvain would’ve been the first to ask around for that specific game. Seven minus inside a closet, with any girl who decided to say yes? That fell right in line with his modus operandi. A cramped dark little space, filled with giggles and flushed cheeks, a fingertip brushing here and there, a stolen kiss in the darkness, ears deafened by a racing heart.

Right now it felt more like a prison though. The only thing making this bearable was the person he shared this far too small space with- one of his classmates, a girl with a heart of gold and one of the kindest eyes he had ever seen to the point it almost burned to lock gazes with her.

“Oh yeah, it’s your birthday too isn’t it? Happy Birthday, Mercedes!” Some of the excitement was true, but it had to be gathered from the floor and given a bit of a push. It sucked- he really did feel happy for her special day but finding the energy for it was difficult. “Are you kidding me? You’re the best company possible for this type of thing. Beautiful, kind, and always offering some of the best pastries around. The Blue Lions are the most blessed house for having you.”

Grabbing one of the offered sweet buns with a small smile in gratitude, the bite he took was slightly small. He wasn’t exactly hungry, but he could snack on it idly. “So, enjoying the party so far? Any plans afterwards? Dates?” The tease came too soft, too casual. There wasn't the typical edge- rather, just a slight upwards tug on the corner of his lips.

[crevassier]

[ WATER ]

“Here.” They were classmates until recently, and he’s never been in the habit of turning a blind eye to someone who looks troubled—hide it as they might try to, like the Gautier heir right now. He won’t claim to understand, not without at least a proper conversation first, but silence too is often easier to bear alongside company than alone. So Kris slides a glass of clear water across the counter to him, his fingers lifting away from the base to reveal a pearl charm tucked against it. “Stay hydrated, at least.”

“Ah- hey Kris, I didn’t know you had attended.” It came as a bit of a surprise- they had never really talked much, even back when the swordsman was still a student of the Blue Lions. Not because of anything in particular, Sylvain just never found any reason to go out of his way to approach Kris. He could appreciate his skills from afar, almost like when he’d watch Felix practice. 

When Kris chose to join the Knights afterwards, Sylvain quietly supported his endeavors. “Haha, I gotta say I sometimes forget about that. Thanks.” Catching glimpse of the pearl against the cup, he made a quick job to detach his own anchor charm and slide it to the blue haired man. “I hope you’re doing okay with the Knights. They’re no joke.”

[crevassier]

“He…is really kind, yeah.”

Dimitri had always been such a kind person. He could be scary when he wanted to, particularly when he was angry, but Sylvain always saw him as nothing more than kind and attentive. Someone trying their hardest while carrying the world on his back, still suffering from that tragedy. He wished for so long to be able to help him, to be closer to him and offer the prince a shoulder to cry on if needed.

But he wasn’t Felix. He wasn’t Ingrid.

He was Sylvain, and he just brought trouble to Dimitri’s door. A horde of messes to clean up after, dismantled bonds, a rising tide of tar.

“I want to.” He answered quietly. “But I can’t.”

I’m far too gone to walk back now. He didn’t even feel like he deserved punishment by Dimitri’s own hands.

@grxstnnefealltoir

bro is that fr | sylvain & darios

continued from here | toa ethereal ball 2025

[crevassier]

“Maybe. Who knows.” He didn’t want to go further into it- he saw no reason why. To him this topic was useless as ultimately he was aware anything could happen- including him changing for the better, or for the worse. Or maybe he won’t even be alive to see that day and think about all of that again. Fate had its cards and Sylvain wasn’t privy to any of it.

A dagger slowly pushed into his chest, the blade cold as it cut through flesh and pushed against bone, the tip poking his beating heart. 

“No.”

“He already has too much on his plate. He has been suffering for too long now.”

And yet there he was, adding to it. Giving Dimitri unnecessary stress, dismantling his bonds, interfering in his relationships, possibly even staining the image of their banner. Only more work for the prince to deal with on top of everything he had.

@grxstnnefealltoir

bro is that fr | sylvain & darios

continued from here | toa ethereal ball 2025

[crevassier]

Precisely, then this guy had no place in blaming him for not sharing his truth or why he did what he did to the world. There was simply no room, no reason, for anyone to know about it. “We can never take bets on the future though. Who knows, maybe I’ll change by then. Maybe I won’t. I can’t look into it and I can’t assume what’ll happen then either. Speculating too much about ‘what ifs’ is a waste of time.”

Besides?

He knows he’ll tank it. He’s confident in it, because by now he’s well acquainted with the feeling of sacrificing bits of himself, if not entire pieces, if it means standing his ground for whatever reason. He’ll tank it, for better or worse.

At the mention of what Dimitri must feel however, he goes quiet. Something Sylvain wouldn’t dare ignore, but at the same time didn’t have the heart to fully face lest his knees buckle and his heart come completely undone. By hurting others and hurting himself, Dimitri suffers as well.

But instead of rethinking his actions, Sylvain just goes further into the pit he dug for himself. 

“Yeah. I deserve it.”

@grxstnnefealltoir

bro is that fr | sylvain & darios

continued from here | toa ethereal ball 2025

[crevassier]

“Why do you care in the first place though? You don’t know me and I don’t know you.” A question that lacked edge, but the voice behind it was solid all the same. “Don’t you think it’s a bit weird for me to open up about my issues to a guy I just met?” He followed with an empty chuckle.

“I’ll face that when the time comes. Swallow it down and just keep going.” Because the day he becomes margrave, he won’t be able to allow such problems to weigh on his heart. He’ll be far too busy with much more pressing matters.

“You can’t tell me what to do.” I don’t need to listen to you- his lips pulled into a small smile, defiant. "You're not my prince."

A short hum. “I’d rather go for neither. Lying suits me better either way, and nobody needs to know the truth- or rather, nobody would care for it. People never want the truth or justice, they just want revenge.” A fact I know all too well.

@grxstnnefealltoir

bro is that fr | sylvain & darios

continued from here | toa ethereal ball 2025

[crevassier]

The guy’s words had merit to them- Sylvain wasn’t stupid. He was well aware those things were all true, of how no matter what he did his actions would always splash into his friends and family one way or another. That was why they scolded him, wasn’t it? Because it would always reach them in the end, and they wouldn’t simply turn their back to it all and ignore it.

Sylvain didn’t know what to think of it. He wanted to hate this, that they’d continuously bark back instead of ignoring barbs coming their way by accident, but he also was thankful that they even cared in the first place. Cared enough to say something, to fight him on it, instead of simply leaving him behind.

“...none of this is your business, though. It’s my problem to deal with in the end. My problem, my friends…” He didn’t need-or rather, didn’t want to hear all of that again. He knew that burn already, uncomfortable and persistent deep in his heart, but his protest was weak in tone. There was no stern push against Darios’ words. “...and it’s not like you’d understand why I do things either. It’s not like you’d care. So there’s no use explaining it all.”

I’m not doing this for fun.

An empty chuckle. “It’s easy to say those things. I wish I could just let go of my problems when it’s convenient to myself but too bad, real life isn’t like that.” This wasn’t just some summertime sorrow he could forget about for a night. “I lie to myself more than enough. You’re repeating things I’ve tried too many times by now.”

@grxstnnefealltoir

bro is that fr | sylvain & darios

continued from here | toa ethereal ball 2025

[crevassier]

"because I do not wish to become like you. are you not hurt? living the way you do? asking me to hurt you, anyone to hurt you, so we may be ruined, too?"

Yes.

No.

It was a consistent stalemate within the heir’s head. The want to enact revenge upon the world at his own price, fully willing to offer his own flesh and blood as sacrifice if that meant taking others down to the tar pit his soul was trapped within, wanting to crave its loneliness through disgrace and pain alone. He wanted to see hurt that echoed his own, to witness those who wronged him battling through the same piles of rotting bones and blazing charcoal that he did, because they deserved it. Revenge, suffering, hurt, all of it- deserved. They hurt him, so they surely should hurt as well, just as much. Make things fair and square.

But too existed the fact Sylvain simply didn’t know what a life without hurt looked like. One where his hand was tightly closed around a blade, the edges cutting deep right to the bone, knowing it too was deserved on his end- because he knew his actions were foul and deserving of punishment. He had never experienced a reality where his mind didn’t frolic through fields of glass, forcefulling pulling others within his own nest of thorns until it no longer mattered whose blood it was covering their bodies.

He didn’t know what it meant to not hurt, and to not be hurt in retaliation.

Somehow, Ferdinand’s decision to not act with violence hurt more than any blade cutting through his skin or magic burning into his essence. It was to exist outside of an exchange, to be left behind in a dark forest with no blade to defend himself with nor means to draw attention for help. It was to be left to burn in his own pyre with nobody to transfer the flames to.

Once gentle breezes picked up speed, bringing with them dark skies announcing an upcoming storm- Sylvain knew it was best to find shelter quickly before the tide rises and waves come crashing and dragging anything in their path into the deep blue- a fate almost enticing, but ultimately fruitless. 

It wouldn’t heal him.

As the prince and his selkie disappeared into the horizon, tears clouded the kelpie’s vision through pouring rain, a water horse left behind by the shore without prey to feed on nor means to join others on land.

-end.

[ ♫ ]  ─  * (𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐧) 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

toaball2025 mini | continued from x:

[crevassier]

"You cannot continue in this way, Sylvain."

Had it come from anyone else, he would’ve allowed these words to brush by his cheek like a slap and continue his day. A reminder of something he already knew more than well enough by now, it having become far too big for him to possibly force himself to not notice or ignore- that he didn’t even want to ignore in the first place. Even if it had come from any of his closer friends, such as Ingrid or Felix, it would’ve been in vain. Perhaps it would’ve stung, but the feeling would’ve been shrugged off. Even if it had been said by his own father, it wouldn’t have settled heavy in his chest, or at least not so immediately.

But it came from Dimitri. His prince.

The man that gave meaning to his existence, who he vowed to stand by and protect and who he’d later completely dedicate his life to as knight and margrave. Someone he was bound to by duty, unquestionable devotion and familiarity from a shared childhood- though the latter seemed to have gotten tattered, a ribbon with frayed ends coming apart little by little.

Had it reached him? The fiasco with Dorothea and Ferdinand at the shores.

“...so, what about it now? Did any of the gossip reach you?” Dimitri’s scoldings were far from new to him, the Gautier had heard them enough times to memorize most by now- but this time it felt different. Before Sylvain always found a way to weevil himself out of it all, add a laugh or two, lighten the situation in an attempt to lift the heavy curtains and make a run for it promising ‘yeah yeah I’ll be careful’, but now velvet was replaced with steel bars and he was trapped. Whatever the prince had in store for him now, he’d have to listen whether he wanted it or not.

“Look- whatever it is that you heard, I know okay? I won’t play dumb.” He could still try- as even a rabbit trapped by a heron’s beak knew to struggle when facing certain death.

la chancla (it's areadbhar)

continued from here | @blaiddllodi we're really in it now homie ong

[crevassier]

[ TOWEL ]

"Dude."

Shez doesn't think Sylvain looks like he's had a good night...but who else was he going to tell.

"I haven't confessed to someone before, but I think I just did."

The towel dries at tinsel laced hair and he looks down at drenched boots. His heart was racing now after he'd tempered it so much during the whole thing.

His eyes trailed down to his bracelet and a seashell was offered to Sylvain while he showed off the pearl.

"She said...she'd tell me more about her...and see if I still felt the same way."

It was crazy to think back on even if it hadn't been long at all.

"Do...do you think she likes me?" He felt so stupid asking but how was he supposed to know?!

He hadn’t seen Shez around so far- at most glimpses of his striking hair color somewhere in the distance, but nothing else. Sylvain assumed he must have been just enjoying the party and hopefully not getting into any of the madness that had been taking over the beach- as it turns out fights and drownings were becoming rather common. It almost makes him feel a little bit better than his own altercation, even though it didn’t end up physical in nature- but he felt exhausted from it almost as if it had been.

But from what he hears from the young merc, Shez seemed to be doing leagues better than him. “You confessed to a girl? That takes a lot of courage! Congrats dude, she seems interested in you.” The ginger placed his folded rose shades on his lap, bringing up a towel to dry drenched red locks and try to keep them styled despite everything. He took the offered seashell with a small smile, offering his own anchor in return.

A tiny, tiny part of him begged for her to not be of the Black Eagles. He had had far too much trouble with that bunch so far- and while Sylvain wanted to support Shez in his love endeavors, he too wanted to at least try to preserve himself even if by just a tiny slight bit. 

“What’s her name? Is she from our class?”

[crevassier]

A hum. If Fogado didn’t know what a margrave was, then the government structure of his land had to be a tad different from that of Fódlan. “A Margrave is just under the duchy in terms of rank. Pretty high, but still within some distance from the crown itself.” He looked down at the hem of his sleeve, playing with the pink fabric mindlessly- just trying to find something to busy his eyes with so he wouldn’t have to lock them to Fogado’s starry ones. “My family protects the northern border of Faerghus. If we fall, the Kingdom is pretty much doomed. His Highness is stupidly strong and he has Areadbhar with him and all, and Felix is also the best swordsman you could ever hope for, but both have their own problems to handle. The northern border is on us.”

If Gautier were to be overwhelmed by the srengi, it would still put Faerghus in a less than ideal situation. Not even as a matter of them taking over Fhirdiad, but a weak border on one end would make it easy for the country to be sandwiched if anyone else decided to take the opportunity. 

i check on people 'cuz i care maybe if it's just to complain, or even if you just wanna sit in silence for five hours, i'd love to be that guy for ya

Sylvain truly didn’t understand. It’s not like he and Fogado met enough times to forge a proper bond, their interactions so far rather fleeting and often coated with varnish, too shallow to truly form anything of substance at least in the ginger’s eyes, yet for some reason Fogado was insistent on getting to know him, on getting closer. On being there to support him for whatever reason and hear out his woes- for what purpose? Was it a source of gossip, to get Sylvain to blurt out his inner feelings and then expose them to the world in the form of a backstab?

That seemed far too complicated for far too little payout, unless Fogado was a professional sadist. Unless he and Dorothea were truly in cahoots to destroy not only his image, but Sylvain himself. But that begs the question- would either of them be even willing to waste so much time on flaying him publicly like that? 

The photo-artifex finally went off, flashbanging both knight and archer, though Sylvain was spared from much of it thanks to his rosy shades. He glanced at the picture that materialized, his attention not quite caught by it, as gears slowly rotated within his head. It was only after they left the contraption’s cabin that a breath slipped past his lips, uncertainty and the blade of hesitation on his neck. “Why though? Why do you care about what I feel so much?” Shielded by rose lenses, his eyes were piercing. “Are you trying to get gossip on me by faking a friendship? Getting closer and closer until you shoot me in the back? Or did Dorothea send you after me for whatever reason? Because if that’s the case I’ll already burst your bubble. Nothing that I tell you will have any effect on what people think of me, for better or worse.”

“So if that’s your plan, drop it.” It wasn’t the gaze of a growling fox, but rather a defensive gesture from a cornered animal. “There’s no more dirt to be found here.”

@losojos-decupido

bandage on a severed limb

ethereal ball 2025 | cont. from HERE

[crevassier]

[ FIREWORKS ] - She sensed that something was amiss.

Hilda may have appeared to be entirely self-absorbed, but she was, in fact, very perceptive. And whilst Sylvain had not explicitly told her that was unhappy, she had been watching him from a distance for a while. Firstly, she noted, with silent approval, that he had dressed according to her instructions. And he wore it well.

But then, her appreciative appraisal picked up hints of... something else. His light, his spirit, seemed... dimmed. Like he was simply going through the motions.

That left her with a dilemma. Sylvain was her friend, but they had never been the touchy-feely type --- not emotionally, anyway. Even if she marched up there and demanded to know what was wrong, would he tell her? Or was it better to try to give him a sense of normalcy, and a moment of respite from this charade he was putting on?

She opted for the latter.

"Sylvain!" she trilled, marching up with the full force of her energy. "I'm glad to see that you're dressed appropriately. Very dashing." She held out a hand. "The fireworks are starting in a few minutes. Want to come out and watch with me?"

Sylvain wasn’t in the mood to put up his mask.

Even if he wanted to- the energy just wasn’t there. He knew the result wouldn’t be whole, instead a crumbling façace constantly shedding pieces and crumbs along the way, leaving a trail for anyone to follow and point out something wasn’t right. At this point he knew it was quite visible he wasn’t in his typical state, but between having the world catch wind of it through a cracking trainwreck and keeping it low profile the latter was much preferred.

The only exception to it all was Hilda. She was his pair for the ball, the one he coordinated his outfit with, and one of the very few people- if not perhaps the only one, that he knew understood him and didn’t judge him for who he was and what he did. Sylvain never sought for someone to ignore his sins, but rather someone willing to see the whole- the good and the bad, like accepting that a garden with withering flowers and rotting trees can still be pleasant in the end. Hilda saw it. He knew she was aware of what he did, and yet she stayed, keeping that same level of easygoing playfulness they shared, unchanged. 

She was completely free to turn heel and leave, spit in his direction or not want to associate with him due to what could happen to her own image. She stayed close, regardless. The heir of Gautier genuinely didn’t understand how or why, but nonetheless he was thankful for it. Her insistence was the tiniest spark of hope somewhere in the dark well he called normalcy.

“Heeey, Hilda! You always look your best, but you’ve outdone yourself here! Easily the most gorgeous girl in the whole party!” The comment came surprisingly easy, not weighted by friction or vengeance, instead airy and smooth. Truthful, even- because it was a fact, she did look very beautiful. He reached out to grab her hand, pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “Of course! Though these fireworks are gonna have to put in serious work to win against you in the eye catching department.” The ginger then placed her hand on the crook of his elbow, so they could go with linked arms towards the viewing spot.

As they walked, Sylvain gave her hand the smallest squeeze in a silent form of gratitude.

[crevassier]

[ RELAX ]

“Ah, hello, Sylvain.” Compared to their other meetings, Elffin approaches Sylvain rather quickly this time, trying to find him before an ill-mood sets in. It’s unclear whether he succeeds, but he has a glass for the other student.

… Filled with juice, of course. No alcohol. Elffin himself does not partake, either.

“How has your night been so far?” A pause, he takes a glance at the other’s demeanor. “I hope it hasn’t been… too exhausting. Here, this is for you.”

The drink is set down, alongside a seashell charm.

“If you are up to it, I’d like to share a dance with you at some point.”

Sylvain had already noticed how each time some sort of festivity or celebration happened, it was a matter of waiting until something went terribly wrong on his side. Even if much of it could be said to be his fault (though the previous time it wasn’t), it still set a feeling of mountain dread within his core- perhaps some would call it deserved, at this point Sylvain didn’t care anymore. The conclusion was simple, the very idea of these festivals coming along made him feel uneasy to begin with.

The Ethereal Ball was no exception to the rule, of course.

But amidst all the stress and myriad of horrible feelings seeping through flesh and bone like acid, of miasma suffocating his lungs and burning his throat, there was always a silver lining. Little things that would give him the slightest yet much needed tug to not completely lose it all in the first half an hour. 

“Ah- Elffin! Hey there, how are you doing? Man, you’re always going far and beyond when it comes to the outfits, great job.”

Elffin’s presence was one of those things. His classmate’s gentle and always so careful demeanor, insisting on approaching him despite everything and always treating him kindly- if the ginger had to be honest, it almost hurt. It was such an odd feeling, to have someone come to him like that seemingly filled with nothing but care and good intentions.

Even if they only knew each other for a brief time, if Sylvain had to be completely honest, he’d say something in him trusted Elffin. He couldn’t exactly define what or why, but his heart felt always at an odd ease. He took the offered glass of juice with a touch softer than expected, and in his expression a smile was perched. It wasn’t big, glittering- rather, it was small and gentle. But genuine. “It has been going okay. Girls, you know…haha. But thanks for asking, really. It means a lot.”

Much more than you think.

“Sure! I know some fun dances, we can try something fun out there!” Sylvain unclipped the anchor from his necklace, offering it to his friend, before taking the offered seashell and putting it inside the pocket to the left side of his chest.