disinclinedknight

[disinclinedknight]

neglected space

boundlesshart​:

Was that Ignatz just now? Claude turns to his fellow student, grinning out of reflex. “Oh, hey!” 

Ignatz’s innocent question helps Claude relax, and the soft, amused laugh that comes from it brings some much-needed genuineness to his smile. “Why do you ask? Do I seem suspicious?” he teases. There isn’t anything to lose by telling the truth: “I dropped something during sky patrol. My uncle’s pendant, so it’s, ah–actually a pretty important something.”

Claude glances back at the cathedral, thinking about how he should leave. He can’t help but wilt at the thought of all this rubble outside being inside as well. Gods, and this pendant is small enough to fit through any crack it comes across. A thought crosses his mind as he turns back to Ignatz. Maybe…  

“Hey, you don’t seem busy,” Claude notes in a chipper tone. “You wouldn’t mind helping me, would you?” He pushes his eyebrows up, giving Ignatz a sheepishly apologetic look. From what Claude has seen, it only takes a… helpful little nudge to push Ignatz in the right direction. “There’s a lot of nooks and crannies that thing could have wedged itself into. I’d appreciate the extra set of hands…”

Ignatz approaches, offering a wave of his hand in greeting, his expression betraying a hint of curiosity and confusion alike, but a smile quick in reaction to Claude’s own. “N-No, of course! No more suspicious than I’d be, for sure”, he chuckles, though his face instantly turns serious once Claude explains his reason for being here.

“Really? That’s awful! You need to get it back for sure...”

And it looks like they both thought of the same thing simultaneously. He nods eagerly when his House leader voices his request.

“Oh-- sure! I’m not doing anything important at the moment, so I was actually just about to offer”, he laughs. Well, he was about to go paint, but that can wait... And though he is not overly enthusiastic at the thought of actually going inside that poor building... If he were to actually study it to try and paint it someday, he’d want to do it eventually anyway. May as well do it now while it’s still standing.

His eyes wander towards the building.

“... Do you remember more or less which part of the cathedral you were flying over when you lost that pendant? It would at least be helpful to narrow the area a little, scouring the entire structure could take a whole day if not more...”

[disinclinedknight]

Better Arrow Dynamics || Ignatz & Innes

freliaes​:

     An arrow whirs through the air, cleanly striking its target. As always, Innes’ shots were precise and true, but that was no excuse to slack off. If he wanted his skills to stay sharp, maintaining a constant training regimen was a must. It was a bit of a hassle, trying to readjust his schedule now that he had classes to deal with, but thankfully it wasn’t any more than what he usually had to deal with. Audiences with citizens, war meetings, training drills, espionage missions—the life of a future king was a harsh one to bear, but it was one he was prepared for.

     What he wasn’t prepared for was the sad scene next to him. Though Innes had put most of his focus into his own training, his gaze would occasionally flicker over to the student training next to him—someone who struck him with an odd sense of familiarity, much stronger than what a passing association should warrant—and the pitiful sight is enough to wear at the prince’s own nerves. The other’s stance was flawed, his hold around the bow awkward and unsteady. Moreover, his arms trembled from clear exertion, and Innes knows that his peer is not likely to make any clean shots in this state. 

     At the very least, the man’s perseverance was admirable.

     Still, it would do him no good to continue on in this manner—in an actual combat situation, he would be more of a hindrance than a help. And so, under his breath, Innes quietly sighs. 

     After shooting one last arrow (the tip striking true, right into the bullseye mark), the Frelian prince lowers his bow, turning to the bespectacled archer. His free hand comes to rest on his hip, brow raised quizzically. “Don’t you think it would be wise to take a break? Even I begin to grow fatigued, watching you.”

“Hm?... Oh--”

Ignatz turns as the older archer, whose stance he had been admiring before, speaks out with words clearly addressed to him. Pausing the training (he has to admit, his body appreciates this excuse to stop for a bit), he winces as the pressure slowly leaves his now lowered arm, but threatens to return with renewed force with every movement he makes.

“I’m... sorry”, he sighs. “You’re probably right, it’s just...” I’m failing at the one combat skill I was supposed to be somewhat good at and I can’t handle it, his thoughts complete the sentence for him, but the words remain unspoken; the other student surely has better things to waste time on than Ignatz’s personal struggles. So he decides to only focus on the bare facts.

“... My usual equipment broke beyond repair, so I had to pick up a replacement for today’s training session, and... the one they had in the best condition might be a bit too heavy for me”, he explains. A bit might be something of an understatement given the condition of his shoulders, though.

He keeps quiet about the other reason for why his arm is tired for the time being. That was nothing more than irresponsibility on his part and he has no choice but to make do.

“Um... Have you ever had to use a heavier bow like that?” He inquires. He hates to waste the other man’s time, but perhaps he could receive some useful advice... “Do you know if there’s some technique to handling this, or should I just go find a lighter bow?”

[disinclinedknight]

Bringing the Heat || Ignatz & Pent

houseofreglay​:

Designing and crafting novel applications for magic was, in equal parts, both an art and a science… But that evening, for all the artistry there was in the discipline, Pent could not deny that the exercise was distinctively and technically innovative. They were to be tinkerers, sinking their fingers deep into the threads of magic they woven as a child would dig into the soft, damp sands of the shore. Sometimes there was no better way to learn than to do.

The sort of thought process and synthesis that could not be replicated from behind a desk—not without getting one’s hands dirty, anyway.

Another crackling explosion sounded from somewhere down the training hall, echoing down the rough-hewn stones in a sort of a… thuddier way than the last explosion (that one had been much drier in texture, and Pent was almost certain it left a scorch mark in the stone… but he wasn’t going to go out of his way to tell Seteth about it if no one else did). 

“Too much energy too quickly,” he called idly over his shoulder at… whoever that was, from where he had been scrawling last-minute calculations and diagrams into his notebook. The worn leather of it scratched against the wall as he scribbled, crossing lines of equations out where the modelling didn’t fit—or didn’t seem to fit; he hadn’t tried it quite yet—when a little green blur appeared in his peripheral vision. “Oh. Ignatz.”

(And that was approximately the extent of what he knew about the boy.)

“It goes…” He squinted at the page, satisfied, then back over to the student. “It does go. Are you here to conduct something of your own, or looking to lend a hand? There are plenty of trials in progress if you wish to partake—why, I am about to start on one right now.”

Without much thought, Pent extended the open notebook to Ignatz, page open to… the frankly illegible mess of numbers and lines over lines over curves over lines over shapes. “A cage of flames, you see. Theoretically, it could be useful for gaining areas of control over variable terrain.”

“Ooh.” Choosing to ignore whatever mildly terrifying and bizarre scenes he witnessed just now, Ignatz puts his hands behind his back and tilts his head slightly with a curious expression. “This is something a little new to me, but I’m very interested in trying to assist if there is any way I can.”

It is then that Professor Pent shows him a page of his notebook and Ignatz adjusts his glasses as he attempts to read-- make sense of... whatever that all is. He marvels as he aggressively masks the utter confusion that comes over him with a look of interested inquiry. Mages are incredible people if this really makes sense to them, he cannot help but think to himself - indeed, the Professor’s notes could be written in some ancient tongue the meaning of which has long been lost to history, and Ignatz would probably understand roughly the same amount.

Luckily for him, Pent also explains the base concept of the experiment he has in mind. “A cage of flames?... That sounds amazing”, Ignatz says, this time with full belief in his words and a light smile on his face. “So to try it out, you want to conjure it up, and... try trapping something? Or someone? How are you going to test it?”

Why does he feel like he should not have asked?

[disinclinedknight]

Healing Hands || Ignatz & Manuela

grandeiva​:

There are stretches of time, some years—more in the lull of summer’s heat, students settled into their routines and wide smiles plentiful—where it is almost too easy to forget what blood makes concrete. First and foremost, before status, before family, for the year they are a flock in Her house, they are soldiers.

Manuela does not have the luxury of forgetting, not when she cradles their lives between her palms so regularly. Before students snapped to attention, Professor on their lips, she had been only Doctor, with little time to ruminate on how she’d stepped so readily into the profession she’d vowed, with all the ferocious precociousness of a teenager, not to follow her family blindly into.

The Goddess has a funny way of working through others; Manuela does not have the luxury of dwelling, not today.

There are no idle hands, and no time to place the blame any which way: this was no fault of any professor, nor of any one knight in the party. A training exercise, students in tow, and they’d been ambushed, no lives lost but a whole swath of trained professional and hapless young adult alike suddenly out of commission, and in her hair. Less immediate cases in one of the little meeting rooms that hardly see much congregational use—those that require her immediate attention soothed into sitting down among the infirmary cots.

When there’s movement at the door, head shoots up, rag in her hand tightens, breath held and silent prayer of not another one—no, only a student. Not one of hers, but fresh from class all the same. A volunteer.

No time to be choosy. Manuela’s smile is pleasant, but her patience is clearly frayed, a pause nonetheless for a name. “Mister—Victor, right? Happy to have you.”

No time for formalities—barely time for niceties. “There’s a bunch of supply boxes in the corner over there,” she continues, nodding towards them when she breaks away from sparing the student a glance, “that were supposed to be unpacked today. Clearly, other things took precedent. Grab some fresh gauze, and come with me.”

The rag in her hands is tossed into a basin on the floor, just one of several stained a ruddy red. “Hate to ask this of a student, but how far along are any of your magic studies? I can’t say I’ve seen you at any of my own seminars—"

With how much hurry she understandably is in, Ignatz considers himself lucky that she even found a spare moment to offer him a smile and search her memory for his name. “Yes-- but just Ignatz is fine.” He shakes his head quickly.

An eager nod then immediately follows as instructions are given and the greenhead runs over to the boxes the Professor pointed at. He gathers as much gauze as he can carry without risking that he would drop and dirty it and comes over to Manuela to see how he may assist. His face really wants to wince at the sight of the wounds and blood, but he masks it to the best of his ability - the injured students surely already feel awful enough, the last thing they need right now is him looking at them like he finds them gross for something that is not their fault.

He then freezes for a moment as the Professor voices her question.

“I, well... I’m very much a beginner with that, sadly. My magic is still at a level probably too basic to try any actually useful healing”, he explains himself in an apologetic tone. “I have experience with first aid that does not require magic, though, if that could be of any use.”

[disinclinedknight]

Activity check: October 2020

Status: passed

Skill points earned: 1; 7 → 8 Bow: C → C 1/2

[disinclinedknight]

nature or nurture

minorindech​:

“I-It, um. It does seem s-strange, doesn’t it? To have students handling all of this work, and so close to school starting?” She felt bad criticizing the school like that. She wondered if she would get in trouble if any of the faculty overheard her? Surely there had to be a reason they were having students do all these tasks, wasn’t there? She’d feel horrible talking about the staff like that if there was really an important reason they all had to be doing this…Or worse, if they got angry about her saying it and sent her back home.

“B-but I, uh. I guess it’s also interesting? I-I’ve never gotten to take care of the horses this much. Or, uh. Pegasuses? I-I tried to get to work in the greenhouse, actually, but they said they didn’t need my help there.” Which was…a little disappointing. She was excited to get to see the greenhouse and what plants they had. She wondered if they would let her plant some plants of her own.

Her wrist jerked abruptly and she looked back to the fawn to see it was tugging harshly at the nipple of the empty bottle. Bernadetta laughed nervously as she gently pried the bottle from the creature’s grip. “A-alright, that’s enough. Here, um… Let’s uh, try something else.”

It was hard to get back to her feet with the little fawn tumbling all over her lap, but she made it. She carefully stepped her way over to the table where the brushes were scattered about. Even if her father insisted that taking care of the horses and other dirty work was below her station, she always liked brushing the horses she rode. It was relaxing.

Bernadetta crouched down on her knees, beckoning softly to the fawn nearest to her. It stared at her curiously, but trotted its way over to her. Softly whispering, Bernadetta raised the brush and softly moved it along the fawn’s fur. Quickly enough, the fawn started neighing and shuffling happily, causing Bernadetta to laugh. “A-at least they’re cute.”

Ignatz nods, listening and letting her say as much as she wants and needs. Though nowhere near as shy or anxious as her, he knows too how good it feels to be heard out once one actually does wish to say something.

He wonders briefly as she voices her disappointment with the greenhouse affair. “Really? That’s sad. Hm... Maybe once the year starts and they have more work, they’ll look for volunteers?” He offers. “It may be good to check again in a couple weeks.”

He hopes so. Everyone should have the right to nurture their interests, he thinks.

Still wrestling a little with the hyperactive foal he’s been feeding, Ignatz watches as Bernadetta grabs one of the brushes off the table. All the babies are now nice and fed, so she has the right idea - time for the next task. As the baby next to him desperately sucks the last drops of milk from the bottle, the greenhead chuckles while observing the adorable scene in front of him.

“They really are, yes. Looks like you found this guy’s sweet spot.”

Once he manages to free himself from the clutches of the eternally hungry foal, he makes it over to the table to pick a brush for himself as well and starts brushing one of the other babies, attempting to mimic Bernadetta’s technique. The pegasus she’s working with still looks a bit more pleased if one were to ask him, but the one he began brushing is not protesting in any way, so he continues. “This is... kinda relaxing actually”, he chuckles.

As if to challenge his statement, the rowdy foal he had been feeding before waddles a bit off to the side and starts jumping around, waving its small, downy wings. Ignatz raises an eyebrow. That’s probably a bit too early for this guy to start learning to fly.

“Careful, don’t hurt yourself”, he throws its way, as if it would understand him.

[disinclinedknight]

Pspsps

ceaselessblade​:

Ike watches as the cat vanishes into the distance, gone with the wind. Even the ringing in his ears from its long yowl has faded. Where it’s gone is a mystery, one likely to remain traceless, at least for a while.  Looking up at the sky, Ike grimaces. The knight-in-training’s points strike true– that entire debacle had likely taken a few hours, and all of that for a single feline. Finding, and sneaking up on the rest with finesse would likely take them to dinner, and should the cats choose to raid the kitchens again… There’d be no point. “Let’s just go back.” Ike agrees. “We’re better off tearing the problem out by the root than trying to corral its spread.” The mercenary raises an eyebrow at Ignatz’ second comment– judging from what they were paying for mere errands, money clearly isn’t a concern that the monastery has. After all, half their clientele were royalty, or clearly loaded.  Perhaps it could be a reference to its stocks of food, but worst be, it’s not like the cats made off with the fruit and vegetables. Sighing, Ike pats down his trousers for the fur scraps they’ve gained from their excursion. There go his hopes for a hearty meat-stocked dinner, but truth be told, it is already a blessing that nobody here will go hungry.  “I think we’ve done all we can. You did good back there.” Turning to Ignatz, he passes him, a casual hand sent to pat his shoulder. It’s no exaggeration– not everyday do you see a human get the jump on an animal, no matter how preoccupied it may be.  Well, perhaps he could put it on his resume. Out-sneaked a cat. A ringing endorsement, really.  [End] 

[disinclinedknight]

Pspsps

ceaselessblade​:

Ike watches with bated breath as he stares at Ignatz’s attempt at sneaking up to the feline. He keeps his eyes off the cat itself, knowing the creatures have an innate sense of whatever’s staring at them, so when Ignatz gets close enough, he closes his eyes, opening them only when he hears the harried yowl of the cat.   …He’s good!  Ike pumps his fist, turning to open his mouth to yell words of encouragement, and faces a set of furry claws reaching out for his face. His voice cuts out into an undignified yelp as he ripostes, bouncing the cat off his shoulder. He reaches out for it– but it extends its claws again and Ike knows there’s no point– it’d probably just fight the entire away it was carried. Wait, unless… Changing his mind, he makes a grab for it. His hands are still outstretched, so he doesn’t need to reach far– it’s just a change of direction.  His fingers come down on the back of the cat’s neck, on the loose skin he knows lies just between the shoulder and neck itself, and instantly the feline melts into a limpid droplet.  Surprised, he pauses, testing its weight. It probably wouldn’t be healthy for the cat if they carried it all the way back like this… He stares at it for a hard moment. Does he really have to bring this feline back to the heads? They’d asked for it, but– Ike thinks it’s learned its lesson.  He lets go. The cat darts off, tail upright in fright as it scampers across a wall and out of sight.  “Well, that was useful.” A lot more effective than he’d thought, actually– that cat had practically turned into hovercraft from sheer disgust after a bite. “If it’s that good, maybe we should just tell them to proof the kitchens with that.”   

Ignatz merely registers Ike’s movements in the corner of his eye, focused more on safely climbing down the wall without breaking his limbs or - more importantly - his glasses. By the time his feet land on solid ground again, Ike had already released the poor cat, which runs off in directions unknown. How interesting - Ignatz had no idea Ike was such a professional cat wrangler. Note for future reference - cats don’t fight when picked up by the scruff on the neck.

The greenhead scratches the back of his head as he watches the scene; he can’t help but feel a bit bad about what he had just done, but he supposes orders are orders.

With a few quick steps, he rendezvouses with Ike. He nods to the taller student’s observation as his eyes once again shift towards the buildings between which the feline had vanished. “I knew cats dislike lavender, but I had no idea they hate it that much”, he admits. “They could probably use some of that, yeah...”

“So what do we do now?” He asks as he turns back to Ike. “Should we hunt for more cats, or just go straight to the kitchen? I don’t know if there’s a point in trying to find more of them, I mean...” He throws a glance at the half-eaten fish splattered where the cat had dropped it. “... They’re not going to try and gather the food the cats had taken and make something edible out of it, right? The monastery’s not so poor that they can’t affort to just make something fresh. It’d probably be best to just tell them how to avoid this happening again...”

[disinclinedknight]

Taken somewhat by surprise, Ignatz seems to almost shrink and melt a little under Claude’s Look (geez, he could probably win several bandit skirmishes with his eyes alone), but the question his House leader asks quickly provides him with all the context he needs to understand his reaction. Okay, he didn’t do anything that’d make Claude angry, it’s just...

“Oh no, did someone try to play one of those on you?”

He winces. While innocent jokes are fine and all, he wasn’t sure what he thought of that onion one. That is gross and getting rid of that taste from your mouth can take hours.

With a mixed expression of concern, sympathy and fear, the greenhead eagerly shakes his head. “I-I promise I wouldn’t ever dream of it! My parents didn’t even import the prank onion snacks at all.” He chuckles sheepishly. “I swear it’s a real, actual, genuine apple. I’ve got a smal knife with me if you would like to cut it and make sure?”

[Caramel Apple] "Claude!" Ignatz's voice is heard through the crowd as he approaches his House leader with two caramel apples, one in each hand. "Um... My father gave me an extra one of these to share with someone, and..." A sheepish smile on his face, he holds out one of the apples towards Claude. "Would you perhaps like it?"

On one hand, it’s Ignatz. On the other hand, Claude knows better than anyone than an innocent-looking face means nothing in the world of pranks. But on the other hand...

Claude takes the apple with some reluctance, looking it over. These lumps, they look apple-y to him. But are they apple-y enough... “Ignatz,” he says, looking over at the other student. Claude fixes him with a Look, hoping that he scares Ignatz into telling the truth. “You wouldn’t give me a caramel onion, would you?”

[disinclinedknight]

[Frog] There is a youthful mirth that glows in her eyes as the saint makes her approach, a grin that could only be described as 'shit-eating' plastered on Flayn's face. "Oh, Ignatz!" she calls in a singsong voice, "There is someone I would like you to meet!" Sitting atop her cupped hands as if they were his throne and he, a monarch, a rather plump frog greets him with a low ribbit. Flayn strokes his head gleefully. "Is he not a fine creature? His name is Phillip, and he is my newest friend!"

“Huh?”

Ignatz turns upon hearing the cheerful voice behind him. Flayn approaches, eyes gleaming in the sunlight, celadon hair fluttering in the light breeze, the warm smile on her face reminding him of the paintings and effigies of the Saints he had often admired and studied. He cannot help but wonder what is it about her and her charm that makes it so that he cannot help but think of the divine as he sees her.

But before his mind can process any more of this train of thought, she brings his attention to something in her hands. He adjusts his glasses as he leans forward and his gaze meets that of the... frog in her hands.

“Gah”! A surprised half-gasp half-scream escapes him, though he does his best to quickly regain his composure so as to not hurt the feelings of Flayn and her new friend. “O-Oh wow, Flayn! I knew about your love for fish, but I had no idea you were also partial towards amphibians.” With that, he smiles brightly as he offers a small bow. “It is an honor, Sir Phillip. I’m Ignatz.”

[disinclinedknight]

[Turnip] - Carving turnips instead of pumpkins was certainly /different/, but Celica saw no harm in engaging in such a harmless tradition. With a brow furrowed in concentration, the Valentian royal attempts to draw a face onto her turnip, failing to account for how thick the skin is. As a result, she presses a bit too hard, causing the tip of her writing utensil to break. Her mouth falls into a frown, shoulders deflating in a withering sigh. "Oh, great..."

Though carving is nowhere near as strong a suit for him as painting (for whatever good his painting is worth, anyway), a little patience and fantasy eventually allows him to carve out a smiling face. Ignatz can’t help but wonder what Claude would think if he knew he was the inspiration for this.

Now, can he inprove this somehow...

He’s awoken by his thoughts by an exasperated sigh near him and turns to see Lady Celica, as well as the cause of her frustration - the broken utensil in her hand. “Oh dear, that’s bad.” He takes one more glance at his own creation - it’s not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but it’ll do - and hands her his tool.

“Here, please use this! It’s the same as yours was, so you should have an easy time using it, and I’m done anyway.” He chuckles and scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “I hope it helps.”

[disinclinedknight]

jump scare / there's suddenly the sound of metal shaking and rattling in the plaza. the metal grate in the floor, where the rain usually drains to, suddenly shifts violently before it settles back into the ground. she's practiced all year for this trick, though it's hard to plan for who would be on the receiving end. still, it's as the person approaches that cynthia forcefully presses her face to the grate and extends her hand outward. "RUN. BEFORE THEY GET YOU TOO."

“What the--”

The sound alone is enough to make Ignatz jump, and the movement on the nearby floor scares him the same way a gigantic spider would.

He did not see clearly what exactly happened. What was that? Is that a monster? A ghost? Is the monastery being attacked? Should he alert the Knights or something? Should he check if someone is in danger first?

He stands there, unsure, then takes a deep breath. Be brave, Ignatz, be brave for the Goddess--

After a moment of hesitation, he slowly takes one hesitant step towards the metal grate he could have sworn he’d seen moving, then another step--

Only to be met with a pair of wide open eyes accompanied by a barely visible face, an outstretched hand, and an ominous voice.

And he reacts the only way he knows how.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!”

Aaand he’s gone.

[disinclinedknight]

* ✶ ⋮ arts and rafts!

herrings​:

nobletoatea​:

Talking about his opinions was one of Lorenz’s favorite pastimes.

“A deer for certain, and perhaps we could make use of Crests?” Lorenz held his palm out while he spoke while his other hand rested on his collarbone. “Leicester prides itself on having no king, but five great houses that work in tandem.” This was for Claude, though. House Leader, next in line to the highest position of power in Leicester-

“A deer would be lovely, with Reigan’s moon behind it, or perhaps framing its antlers.” He paced around the boat, incredibly invested in their presentation to the rest of the school. “I’m partial to roses or floral designs, but waves would be appropriate as well. The capitol is known for its waterways.”

Lorenz put his hands on his hips and looked to the other students. “Well? I have the brilliance but someone must get to the nitty gritty work!”

@herrings

there’s a fine line between bravery and sheer stupidity and linhardt finds that he doesn’t quite know where claude stands. undeniably, there is a level of boldness exhibited in their house leader to be courageous enough to let the whims of his members spearhead their visual representation. claude had never struck linhardt as witless, either. perhaps claude cares little about victory in something as asinine as a mere boat competition or perhaps their house leader is volunteeringly setting himself up to play clean-up after the golden deer are done putting their hands all over the boat. either way, linhardt can admit he feels a sense of admiration to claude’s audacity to bravely set himself up for failure.

“i second the crests,” the hevring heir boy responds, his agreement totally not having a pre-formed bias at play. he watches as lorenz, the eldest of them all, directs a commanding look upon them. now, linhardt has little desire to be of any true aid to decoration, nevermind the fact he has still a half of his pretzel left to devour.

“hilda sketches on her assignments during class,” linhardt pips up and teetering upon the edge of his tongue is the frequent topic he often sees his fellow housemate doodling. perhaps as mercy for willingly throwing his friend out to the hounds, he decides not to blurt the specifics. “with how often she prefers to dedicate herself to interesting artistic pursuits rather than the lecture, i’m sure she’d be a lovely contender to handle our underlay sketch and give our boat much needed ‘pizzazz’.” but what about the other two? lorenz seems to have a clear vision of the boat, which means he would do best as the head painter, but what about ignatz? truthfully, linhardt knows little about the archer.

“i suppose lorenz can help with drafting on the left and ignatz can handle painting.” seeing as though that’s the last task needing to be distributed. “meanwhile, i’ll give keen foresight and ensure everything looks cohesive from afar.”  @disinclinedknight 

“Okay...”

That is all Ignatz says, a mildly concerned and doubtful look on his face, thinking and considering as his Housemates throw around ideas. But as his mind’s cogs turn faster and faster, an idea begins to form and take a more solid shape in his head.

(If there is one thing his brain is good for, it’s picturing and imagination, he supposes.)

He throws Linhardt a look of not in the slightest masked mixture of confusion and suspicion, but wastes little time for words; he should get to work as quickly as possible, before this fleeting imagery leaves his mind once more for nothing sensible and worthwhile to remain. An artist must know how to capture the moment, after all.

“Okay, so, how about...” Before he begins with the boat itself, Ignatz spreads on the floor before them a clean sheet of paper. Taking out a pencil he always has on him, he begins to frantically sketch. His hand’s movements are quick and fluid, desperate to capture the idea before it vanishes forever; he presses his lips together into a near straight line as he concentrates, while also attempting to draw as fast as he can.

Within only two minutes or so, the basics of the concept are portrayed: three deer silhouettes, two to the edges jumping gracefully in opposite directions towards the outside of what is going to be the boat, with the third in the center, in the pose well known to everyone from their House’s banner. Behind and above the central animal, framing its antlers almost like an aureola, the Crest of Riegan; to the left and right, between the deer, four other Crests, two on each side - Gloucester, Goneril, Charon and Cethleann.

“We can always add more to this, like waves, or flowers, or whatever we like!” He explains, a light smile on his face, but a clear hint of uncertainty and embarrassement in his voice. “Well... W-What do you guys think?”

> @flowerofgoneril���

[disinclinedknight]

* ✶ ⋮ arts and rafts!

herrings​:

a sweet aroma wafts through the monastery grounds, a blend of saccharine confectionary sold throughout the stalls and the blooming flora whose petals wash limestone and wood in a pastel rainbow. the weather is great, the sun warm against robust, candy-stuffed cheeks and the wind a pleasant murmur. linhardt thinks, it’d be amazing to take his siesta here among the plush grass and muffled hum of carefree commotion, but his appetite for pastries demand otherwise. thus, he supposes it’s a fair trade off: an indulgence of the floralia festival’s candy in exchange for his insight to aid the golden deer in their decorating endeavors.

though, now that linhardt finds himself at the scene, he finds himself at loss of what to advise. he’s heard vaguely of what direction his housemates wanted to take for their dragonboat, but the method of execution fell lost among the thrilled shouts of ostentatious demands and limitless imagination. even now, as the hevring heir sits within one of the decorating teams, he doubts his teammates have a cohesive plan as well.

“say,” the adrestian noble finally speaks up, the soft pretzel he had been nibbling on lowered as blue eyes drift to gaze at his peers, “does anyone happen to recall what claude’s vision for the boat was, or is it true that he preferred to leave the boat’s decoration process to our own mechanisms?” unspoken is linhardt’s doubt, as his attention passes by hilda and lorenz, that the boat will look anything else but flamboyantly pretentious.

UP NEXT: @disinclinedknight (ft. @nobletoatea and @flowerofgoneril ) 

One of the benefits of having a merchant family is, without a doubt, the easier and cost-free access to some special, unusual treats on an occasion such as this.

Nibbling slowly on a piece of toffee from his father’s own caravan, Ignatz processes the situation that their group has found themselves in. The Houses are going to have a decorating and racing competition in dragonboats, and now it is their mission to make their watercraft stand out among others. Preferably in a good way. The toffee melts in his mouth more and more as he stares at the rather unusual blank canvas in front of him. The ideas are certainly there - still unspoken, floating among them in the form of thoughts that they know they share by the virtue of knowing this and that about each other and their ways of being - but putting them together into a cohesive, practical form will be the part both most important and most difficult.

The greenhead turns to Linhardt as the other student raises his question. “Um, I think he just wanted it to uh, make sense, but other than that he mentioned being open to our ideas.” The question is, what exactly are those ideas.

Finally, he finishes up his piece of toffee and stretches, as if getting ready for a spar or a training session. “So... the boat should represent us as a House, right? What aside from the obvious - a deer - can we decorate it with to convey who we are?”

A hint of hesitation is present in his voice. How okay is it for him to be open about his passion for art? And just how useful can his amateur skills be here? He will naturally do his best for his House - he always does - but can his best possibly be good enough?

> @flowerofgoneril​ or @nobletoatea

[disinclinedknight]

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[disinclinedknight]

Healing Hands || Ignatz & Manuela

@grandeiva

At the Officers Academy, news and rumors spread quickly, and it was not long before the word of mouth reached Ignatz as well; news and rumors of a mission miscalculated, and though no lives were lost on the monastery’s side, injuries were plenty. The information caused disturbance, only fueled further by the many frowns on the faces of both knights and the House leaders alike, and finally culminated in an official announcement: Garreg Mach needs help and seeks volunteers, for their medical team does not have enough hands.

Given the troubling circumstances, it was natural for Ignatz to sign up. He does have at least some experience he can offer, he thinks and hopes. After all, during their travels, the merchant caravans were often on their own, forced to fend for themselves, and though mercenaries would sometimes be employed for protection, rarely did they include monks or other healers. Thus, though not destined to take over the business, Ignatz was nevertheless trained in first aid. He doubts his contributions would be enough, but it’s better than nothing, right?

As soon as the already shortened for the day lectures are over, without even taking the precious time to carry his books back to his room, he sprints in the direction of the infirmary. Quietly - spells might be performed and focus required, after all - he opens the door and slips into the room. Luckily it turns out that silence is not required at the moment, so he relaxes and smiles lightly at the sight of a familiar face.

“Professor Manuela”, he bows shortly in greeting, before tossing his bag into the corner and washing his hands with water and soap prepared for the purpose for the medics to use. “How may I help? I know a thing or two about stopping bleeding and bandaging wounds, but I’m happy to assist with anything else if I can!”

[disinclinedknight]

Bringing the Heat || Ignatz & Pent

@houseofreglay

He has to admit, he was not sure what he expected when he came to the training grounds to check out the ongoing situation, but shrill screaming and a sight of some random poor student running out of there with her skirt on fire was not one of those things.

He freezes for a moment as his eyes follow the figure until she disappears into the hallway, re-evaluating some of his recent life choices, before he sighs and makes the final steps required to reach his destination and see what... achievements the others have been into.

Well, first off, that’s one less desk for the Academy, because that is probably not salvageable anymore. Why were they experimenting with a desk, anyway? Did they get the permission to drag the poor thing all the way out here? Around the scorched remains stand three students, all frantically taking notes, including the guy whose parchments are ever so slightly charred. Something about this scene makes Ignatz not want to ask too many questions.

He walks past them, then past another group, this time of four, trying out various spells - some of which Ignatz has never seen before - on a dummy and a random iron sword it was made to hold. It seems to go okay for a while until the poor victim spontaneously explodes, the students avoiding getting hit with pieces of it by running, accompanied by a mix of screams and laughter.

By the Goddess, magic can be crazy.

And just a little further, Ignatz spots the face he knows well from lectures, looking for something in a book. Professor Pent is not accompanied by any... assistants at the moment, and though the greenhead can’t help but wonder whether or not he will come to regret this later, he makes the decision to walk over to him. He came here in order to further his studies in the Reason arts, yes? Surely some... risks will be involved, and he knew that.

“Hello, Professor Pent”, he says with a light bow of respectful greeting as he approaches, attempting to hide his mild anxiety behind a smile. “How goes it?”