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[draconiium]

bases & growths analysis time!

some time ago, @redmessenger and i were having a conversation on how stat bases and growths might translate into narrative. what we eventually tentatively decided was that:

base stats reflect the individual’s life circumstances and how much they were able to train themselves, to what extent they had the resources and ability to develop their combat skills.

growths reflect the individual’s innate potential for each stat and is inborn.

we figured this more or less lines up with what we see in the games: units that are just poor combatants typically come with mediocre / average bases and growths. units that come with low bases but good growths are typically people who don’t come from combat backgrounds but have an innate talent for it; they’re usually people who don’t fight on an everyday basis. units with good bases and growths are typically knights or otherwise highly trained. 

it doesn’t apply perfectly in every scenario, but it seemed like a good foundation with which to look at unit stats. with that in mind, i just thought it’d be fun to talk about zeiss’:

zeiss’ bases even in NM are pretty good for where he starts out. as fe6′s est archetype, he begins low-leveled, which means he has a lot of room to grow ( or fail, which would be sad ).

he is, however, one of the units who gets downright ludicrous HM bonuses:

+9 HP, +5 strength, +3 skill, +3 speed, +2 luck, +3 defense, and +1 resistance on this particular person’s file. HM bonuses can also vary +/-1 point depending on how rng rolls as well, and the bases shown here are actually not his highest possible according to the serenes chart, according to which there is a chance that zeiss will come with 20 strength, 13 skill, 12 speed, and 9 luck.

that’s capped strength at level 7 un-promoted.

i just wanted to give that for context, so into the breakdown we go:

HP ( 80% ). he comes with a really unnecessary 80% hp growth. that’s quite high, but there are fe games with HP growths over 100%. in general i think that being hardy and having good stamina is a trademark of bernese soldiers. they’re like big, filled-out people there. the rigorous training also helps to maintain that. this counts for both him and rubley though. wyverns are not easy creatures to kill; they can take a lot before going down.

STRENGTH ( 60% ). zeiss’ trademark stat. it’s just nuts. even on NM, he’s easily going to cap strength before promotion, and on HM, as mentioned, he comes with it either capped or close to capped. on average, if you promote him at level 10, he’s going to hit his promoted strength cap at level 8. he smashes his head right into that cap. ig i don’t have much to say about this other than zeiss is strong. he can benchpress you and everyone you love. probably. ( no word on whether he can benchpress rubley. )

SKILL ( 50% ) & SPEED ( 35% ). these are the stats that give him trouble, especially speed. skill is salvageable with a 12/13 base and a 50% growth being decent enough that he’s not missing frequently, but even zeiss in his support with shin knows that accuracy is something he needs to work on. i think the fact that he actually has a good skill growth though reflects the fact that he comes from a strong lineage of wyvern riders; being a rider is in his blood, and he’s born with the gifts to be a great one. with that 12/13 base, though, it’s just at the moment unrefined. 

speed is where he trails behind, both his base and growth being below miredy’s. while wyvern riders are known for being the slower fliers, it highlights his preferred role as a tanky bruiser of a fighter. he prefers to soak hits and then dish them back out with that capped strength. also, wearing all that heavy armor does tend to hamper one’s maneuverability. zeiss’ speed can go either way, but he typically benefits from a speedwing.

LUCK ( 20% ). he’s a wyvern rider. it runs in the genes. the narrative value of the luck stat is debatable, though, so i’m not going to think too much into it. i couldn’t find a good way to incorporate it when i had mathilda, and i can’t think of a good way to do it now either orz

DEFENSE ( 25% ). with a base as high as 15, you’d think he’d have a good growth to boot, but in fact both he and miredy have poor defense growths, which was interesting to me. i have no idea how to interpret innate defense since most humans are more or less the same level of naturally squishy, but his high base can definitely be attributed to rubley and the fact that wyvern riders rely on a lot of protective armor.

RESISTANCE ( 5% ). what is resistance. this is why bern hates etrurians :’D in general though i believe wyverns have a naturally low tolerance for magic; it’s in their biology since they’re a distant relative of dragons, which, as we see in elibe ( aside from fae??? ), are weak to magic of any kind.

[draconiium]

nordionknight:

“I understand,” Ares insists as Zeiss trails off. Just because none of the wars in Jugdral ended with such bad blood didn’t mean it never existed – Verdanites called savages, north and south Thracians at each others’ throats, smaller pockets within cultures across the continent. If he hadn’t had such warm relationships with the other kings when the rebellion ended, he was sure Augustria would not be nearly so open, either. It paints a grimmer picture of Bern than the weather already has. 

And then Zeiss finishes and Ares’s lips part, though he stops himself before his mouth can actually fall open. His eyes are suddenly bright behind his wet bangs; almost childish.

“Do you mean it? We’d be more than glad to host you, just – you really do want to come?” 

for a moment, zeiss wrestles silently with whether he should have said that much. he had wanted to make sure king ares didn’t come away believing that he had some misgiving about the match, but perhaps in his explanation, he had been too transparent about the state of his country. there’s no way to know what the man thinks, though; if he has planted a poor image of bern in his mind, he can’t tell.

in reply, he nods once, relieved that he had managed to bring this conversation back onto a better track. ❝ i would be honored, your majesty, ❞ he says — firm and official in spite of ares’ barely-concealed enthusiasm, though he then offers a small smile of his own. ❝ if you’d give me some time to obtain leave, and learn a little about your country. i would hate to come without knowing anything . . . ❞

normally, he wouldn’t be so quick to sound certain of the arrangement, but he can’t imagine there would be any difficulties. there isn’t much for an army officer to do in this peacetime except act as a figurehead and deter the occasional bandits. he isn’t so vital to be needed in the capital at all times, and this would be just the opportunity to expand bern’s relations beyond elibe. it would do them good for a kingdom in the far-reaching lands of — jugdral? — to know something about them, too.

Title That Precedes || Ares & Zeiss

[draconiium]

( liminal ) ; && pent

for : @countreglay

after the recent string of collaborative efforts between bern, lycia, and etruria, traveling by wyvern is no longer as dangerous as it had been before. zeiss has no illusions about the whole thing, however; there’s plenty of talk that etruria’s new willingness to accommodate bernese transportation is only the next phase of some larger scheme. whichever the case, given the circumstances of his first foray into etruria after the war, he’s glad — for now — that he doesn’t have to worry about being shot down again. 

as though laughing at him, the universe had been quick to correct him for his naive assumptions.

plenty of anti-bernese sentiment remained in etruria and off the coasts of it. in particular, those rebels that had been ousted from aquleia, stripped of title && wealth, are quick to damn the kingdom that they had turned to during the war, accusing them for not providing asylum when they had betrayed their own etruria to support them. zeiss had had a taste of them and their animosity once before on that strange, dreamlike night the first time he had met lord pent. in hindsight, it shouldn’t have surprised him that some of the exiled noblemen had turned to piracy. he should have been more careful flying over the open waters of the strait dividing the mainland from the western isles.

it had all happened so quickly. the small unit of fliers making the long journey back to bern had been caught off guard by arrows and spells whizzing into the sky, the whistling of incoming fire their only brief warning before all had erupted into the screech of wyverns and the cries of men.

several had been shot down, tumbling from the air, the heavier underbelly armor that would help protect their mounts from these attacks in battle foregone for the light, easily penetrable gear designed for long-distance flight. the more fortunate ones had no choice but to scatter, unarmed for combat and unable to do anything but save themselves.

in the panic, which had lasted a total of less than a handful of minutes, zeiss had been caught off guard as rubley pitched and rolled, trying to escape the volley, and lost his balance in the saddle. he recalls only the frenzied swarm of wyverns overhead against the clear blue sky and the sound of rubley’s alarmed screech before the roar of water silenced everything. 

he doesn’t know what happened after that, but his mount does. at once, he’d folded in his wings, plummeting through the air in pursuit of his rider. it’s just as well that the thalassan line of wyverns had been bred from a native coastal variety, biologically outfitted for the ocean. sleeker and stream-lined, blue scales for camouflage, and a third, clear eyelid to protect the eye when underwater all equip rubley for the brief swim that enabled him to hook his claws in zeiss’ shoulders as he might the body of a wriggling fish in the wild, thrash his tail once or twice to put some distance between them and the attacking vessel, before breaking the water’s surface in a spray of droplets, unconscious rider in hand.

intelligent enough to know he wouldn’t be able to safely carry zeiss for long like this, yet simultaneously reluctant to leave his bonded rider alone and vulnerable, rubley deposits him some stretch of time later on the sands of reglay province’s beach. after making sure that the area is otherwise deserted, he creeps close to zeiss, sniff and bumping the familiar head of red with his snout, uttering soft chirps. when there is no response, a low, keening sound rumbles from rubley’s belly. he turns to kick some sand up over zeiss’ body to hide him and provide warmth as he might with a batch of eggs, before taking to the air with a screech to find help.

[draconiium]

✖

                                                            headcanon prompts [ x ]

✖ : Describe a way to make them uneasy or apprehensive.

it’s not that hard to shake zeiss up, despite the fact that he’s over 6′, broad, and looks all manly and bernese like he could never be anything but intimidating and serious, ever.

anything to do with putting him in a spotlight, or drawing unwanted attention to him, would make him uncomfortable. he really doesn’t enjoy having attention on him, since he usually freezes up and reacts poorly. ( as he gradually becomes more and more celebrated within the military, of course, he slowly acclimates to being more in the public eye over time, but it’s more or less exposure therapy and was gradual plus miredy helped him a lot with that. )

as i’m sure we’ve noticed, speech is hard for zeiss — specifically, articulating himself verbally is difficult. so asking him to talk about something before he’s ready and prepared for it ( in both the mental / emotional sense and literally prepared, like he has his words hashed out in his head and everything ) can really throw him off track and put him in a tight spot that tends to be self-fulfilling because when he gets nervous, he gets even less articulate.

if you make rubley uneasy, you make zeiss uneasy. he’s very good at reading rubley’s body language, and is of the opinion ( as are most people in bern, in general ) that animals have a phenomenally superior sense of perception than people do. if a rider’s wyvern doesn’t trust you, chances are good the rider isn’t going to trust you either.

[draconiium]

shinonthegrumpy: 

‘Just take it easy’

It’s easy for Zeiss to say, Shinon thinks, but never voices those thoughts. They are high above the ground, and with the wyvern’s harsh movements, it takes everything in him not to start freaking out. Both from pain and the dizzying distance from the below. 

“Just outside Felirae, it’s a small Crimean vllage” He utters strained. “I’ll be able to get there on my own once we get to the gates” 

He doesn’t want to trouble this young rider any further, even if there are still risks that he will subdue to his injuries. Or worse. Through his haze, that he will choose the wrong passageway and end up in the outrealms instead. But those thoughts are quickly brushed away. Those are what ifs, he doesn’t need that. 

at night, surrounded by sky, time and distance seem to blur together into a standstill, made all the more negligible by his keen concentration on scouring the landscape for any signs of a gateway. when at last — ten minutes later? thirty? — he spots that subtle distortion, well-concealed against the backdrop of darkness, he sits up with relief. ❝ shinon, there! ❞

trying to bring rubley to a smooth landing is easier said than done. normally, no one has much of a care for how rough flight is in the middle of a battlefield. thankfully though, rubley has some experience with exercising care with injured people, and manages to come to as gentle a landing as possible.

which still isn’t much, but at least there was effort.

he can’t do more from here, as much as he would like to follow the man through the gate and see him safely to a healer. he’s already spent enough time away from camp, and further delay in a wholly different continent means he’ll likely miss the relocation, and the amount of trouble he’ll find himself in would very well get him discharged.

                                    ❝ be safe, ❞ he says with a concerned frown.                                           ❝ we need to see each other again. ❞

( reincarnated ) ; && shinon

[draconiium]

lacunael:

@draconiium

It wouldn’t be the first time he found himself in such a position - that is, wandering about some stretch of the continent that he didn’t recognize. Etzel found it a bit ironic that it was becoming a more frequent occurrence; once he had been the one to clutch a map while his companion ran ahead like an untameable wind without a care in the world. He was unsure what to think of that quality now that it appeared to have rubbed off on him. The mage even thought nothing of passing through the distortion he had come across, letting his curiosity of the arcane get the better of him. (Well, perhaps that was a lie. The part of him that grew desperately careless beckoned him towards it, as if it would reunite him with his other half.)

Regardless of how circumstances lined up, he was currently trekking through an expanse of forest and mountain. It wasn’t as if he was unused to the effort it took to hike through similar terrain, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he ended up in the uncharted lands to the north of Archanea. Or maybe he had taken a turn towards Macedon, if the call of wyverns in the sky were anything to go by.

The sight of the beasts didn’t frighten him. Dracoknights found themselves among the ranks of his comrades and Anri’s Way had every kind of large reptile one cared to look in the jaws. What he did find novel was the sight of a person reclining in the saddle of their docile wyvern mount, immersed in a book. From his shallow knowledge of Macedon, its warriors didn’t have much of a taste for scholarly pursuits; the scene struck him as a bit contrasting. How peculiar…

“Reading on top of a wyvern isn’t the most practical place, you know.” The observation passed his lips before he could contain it, fatigue chipping away at his prudence. Etzel silently hoped he hadn’t stumbled upon a hostile stranger, because if they hadn’t heard the comment, their mount certainly had.

sunshine pours down from bright cornflower skies, impeded only by the fluffy tufts of cloud cover that rest suspended high above. a gentle breeze, guided in from the oceanbound currents, rustles low-lying vegetation ripe with late spring. by all standards, it’s a beautiful day in bern, and if more people could experience this, surely there wouldn’t be so many tales of the place being as foreboding and bleak as the long shadows of its mountains in winter might imply. at least, so zeiss believes.

reclining on his back in the saddle, lanky frame curved along the slope of rubley’s long spine, the rider partakes leisurely in the idyllic afternoon with a book in hand, its creased edges and faded ink suggesting it’s been well-loved. uncaring of the added weight on his back, the reptile rests, belly to the ground, eyes closed, snout occasionally twitching when a shifting blade a grass tickles his scales. it’s a picturesque image, disturbed only by the sudden voice.

rubley, long before aware of the stranger’s arrival and detecting on him an unfamiliar scent, has opened his eyes by the time etzel appeared on the scene, bright golden and lucid. lifting his head from the grass, he now turns to peer at the mage, curious and alert but not yet hostile, though the flared spines that crown his head form the beginnings of a display — keep your distance. for his part, zeiss isn’t nearly as attentive, and it takes being addressed for him to start, nearly dropping his book in surprise.

but the panic that had gripped him with the thought that he’d been discovered by one of his officers fades as soon as he sees foreign robes, and turns to confusion. unsure if the other had expected him to apologize for such a pastime ( or indeed if he had been expecting an answer at all ), he simply stares in bewilderment. then, after a moment, slowly ventures: ❝ can i . . . help you with something? ❞

perhaps it’s a testament to the tranquility of the day that he does not respond immediately with suspicion, even knowing at a glance that this man is not from bern — or elibe, by the looks of it. he doesn’t really want to engage in any kind of conflict today. even so, he can’t help but add, blunt but inoffensive: ❝ or did you just want to say something about my reading habits? ❞

practicality // zeiss

[draconiium]

HC: ❤, ❥

                                                             headcanon prompts [ x ]

❤ : Describe a physical action that shows complete trust.

i think i’ve mentioned this before, but going out of his way to let you fly with him on rubley. it doesn’t count if you have to because of convenience, a battle situation, etc. i mean like if he’s going for a leisure flight and invites you to come along, or offers to give you a ride on rubley. as i’ve said, these flights are really his me-time to calm and rejuvenate himself, so letting someone else into those is like letting them into a private space.

❥ : Describe a verbal way they would express complete trust.

honestly, it doesn’t take an enormous amount for zeiss to trust someone enough to talk to them as he would anyone else. if he believes that you’re a worthy and admirable individual, he’ll open up to you naturally and share his dreams / doubts with you, sometimes seeking advice. those that he believes are trustworthy may find themselves on the receiving end of a sudden heart-to-heart when he finds that he needs others to unload his thoughts on, even if they’d never spoken to him prior to that. he does a lot of assessment of people from a distance, without indicating that he’s doing so.

[draconiium]

⊗

                                                              headcanon prompts [ x ]

⊗ : What is something that causes them to question themselves?

before the war, superiors like narcian were the source of no small amount of cognitive dissonance. in bern, soldiers are taught absolute, unwavering loyalty to their commanders, and that their commanders always know best, and were chosen for their position based on merit. of course, this only really works if that is the case – which, as we see and as heath told us 20 years prior, is hardly always, or even often, the reality.

the entire situation with the war, too, shook zeiss’ sense of identity and his previously blind loyalty. fighting on the ‘enemy’ side, he was able to see the bernese initiative for what it was – violent, senseless warmongering and bloodshed. this wasn’t about self-defense, like the higher-ups had made it sound, or even about national pride. it was about subjugating others without a noble cause.

how the country that he loved so much, whose values he believed in, had become capable of this, is something that he struggled with, and continues to struggle with. he had rather frequent spells of disillusionment and identity loss during the war, as he watched the tenets he had proudly shaped himself around become associated with terrible things. what did it mean to be loyal to bern, to be a dragon knight of bern – a beacon of strength and hope for the country of his birth?

in his last conversation with galle on the battlefield the day he died, zeiss was able to figure some of that out. the rest, he had to hash out on his own. eventually, he decided to take the road that heath couldn’t: to return to his country and love it enough to acknowledge its ugliness, and seek to change it.

[draconiium]

gradiivus: 

      It didn’t take long for the guards to find them, even with the brief distraction. Without looking back, Zeke could tell by the sounds of footsteps alone that there were two on their tail already, likely the ones he had hoped to avoid. But it didn’t matter much now; all around them, activity stirred as the men were awakened by the horn and called from their tents. Quickly, he drew his sword but did not slow his pace, as doing so would only make it easier for them to be surrounded. His focus now was on recalling a path to the exit - a task more difficult now that they had taken unplanned turns within the labyrinth of tents and supplies.       But they also needed to lose the men behind them, and Zeke hooked sharply to the right… into three more guards. Instinct opened his mouth to shout a command, but a quick glance toward his companion found him already barreling ahead. Zeiss appeared unimpeded by injury or weakness, which brought Zeke some relief in such dire circumstances.       “Fine work,” he said instead, dropping low to dodge a swipe from the second man, then grabbed for his wrist as he came for another swing. In one fluid movement, Zeke twisted, changing the man’s trajectory and sending him tumbling into one of the tents, his weight dragging the tarp down and entangling him inside. The cowardice of the third didn’t surprise him much, but was a blessing for now, as long as they could shave off a few more seconds.       Zeke began at a sprint again, looking back only to ensure that Zeiss was still following.       “No,” he answered, calm despite the chaos. “We have but a quarter of an hour to make for the camp’s perimeter before my men set the place ablaze.” They rounded another corner and Zeke so that they could catch their breaths, and he could reorient himself with their surroundings.       “How are you faring? You are not feeling weak now, are you?”       The question was, perhaps, merely his habit to ask after his charge as he searched for a new path for them to take.

there isn’t time to acknowledge the compliment verbally, but — muted by the rush of adrenaline and urgency — zeiss feels his chest swell a little regardless as he looks around to check for other immediate threats. to his right, the man struggling in the collapsed tarp would be comical if the situation wasn’t so dire, and anyway his cries are only going to draw more attention to this corner. they need to keep moving.

zeke realizes the same, unsurprisingly, and zeiss dashes after him, muscles tight and wound to react to the first hint of attack. torch lights flicker and flash by in his periphery, scattered smears of fiery light serving equally to illuminate their surroundings and deepen the shadows. 

the answer to his question makes his stomach sink; he had thought that when zeke had said there would be men setting fire to the camp, that they would be riding in as a raiding party to reinforce them. this was all intended to be a two man — or one, in the event he had been unable to move or fight on his own; had zeke prepared for that? — endeavor? the need for constant motion suddenly doubles, and restlessness fills his veins like a drug; if they’re surrounded in this case, that’s the end of it.

&& even if they should manage to survive, if they don’t make it out quickly enough, they’d be engulfed in a blaze, same as the enemy soldiers. it’s just as well it’s not in him to question attack plans; they just need to execute it. he’s certain that if sir zeke had agreed to go along with this, he’d had to have good confidence that it would be successful.

pressing his back against a stack of supply crates, zeiss takes a moment to breathe, trying not to cough even though his throat burns from the exertion. he looks over at zeke, scanning the area for their escape route. ❝ i’m fine, ❞ he replies, straightening up again. and it’s true, for now — the earlier weakness of disuse that had shaken his step has vanished in the rush, and he only hopes it doesn’t debilitate him later.

                                              ❝ do you know the way out? ❞

Amidst the Storm [Zeke & Zeiss]

[draconiium]

Skull, moon

                                                              headcanon prompts [ x ]

☠ : Are there any recent / daily thoughts they have about death or dying?

zeiss thinks about death fairly often – not his own, but definitely in a general sense. he’s a soldier, after all; it happens all the time, and he struggles with survivor’s guilt ( and just guilt in general ). though he’s personally never had suicidal thoughts – any more than is considered normal for the average person, anyway – he’s often wondered why he’s alive, and whether he should be. bern doesn’t really believe in faith, and he struggles to understand why he had lived when so many others who were equal to or better than him have died.

in a couple threads and metas now, i’ve touched on his preoccupation with fighting against bern in his country’s last stand outside of the dragon shrine, and the ruin of his countrymen he witnessed there. that was an experience that had an immense psychic impact on him – more than galle’s death, which he’s begun now to understand and accept.

loss of life still troubles him, and always will; he’s never going to be fully comfortable with taking life, even when necessary, though for the sake of his profession, he compartmentalizes it well enough not to suffer for it. but if he were ever asked to kill outside of war or self-defense, he’d feel deeply conflicted. for a seasoned soldier, he still somehow manages to remain a softie. the zeiss that couldn’t bring himself to put a hatchling wyvern out of its misery in my ‘fairly odd parents’ thread with zeke is still there.

☾ : On a sleepless night, what would they be found doing?

if zeiss can’t sleep, he’s going to try and do something, because it’s usually out of restlessness. he’ll get out of bed and work on a project he needs to finish, typically quietly by a window. he might get up and polish his armor is he’s troubled by something; slow, repetitive motions like that help to calm him down. though one might expect he’d read, he’s usually in too restless a state to do that for long if it’s to the point where he can’t sleep, and if he should try, he’d end up putting the book down after 10 minutes and getting up to do something else.

if he really needs to get outside, he’ll take rubley for a flight. more than anything, that’s guaranteed to help clear his mind and get him to relax. flying at night, when the rest of the world is silent and dark, just empties his head and fills him with a sense of peace. it almost always works.

[draconiium]

✏

                                                               headcanon prompts [ x ]

✏ : What are their creative outlets?

zeiss isn’t really an artistic person; he doesn’t have any natural talent — or inclination, really — towards writing, visual art, acting, or music of any kind. he doesn’t even really like doing crafts much, unlike his father, who used to do a bit of woodworking in his spare time to sell at local crafts fairs on occasion just for the fun of it. that’s not to imply he isn’t good with his hands, but he doesn’t just create things for the sake of it; if he’s crafting, it’s for a practical purpose: adjusting rubley’s gear, refining a spear tip, mending his clothes.

one might consider cooking to be a creative outlet, though i’m not sure he would answer that if you were to ask him, since he doesn’t see that as something artistic or creative, himself — it’s functional. but he enjoys it a lot, and likes trying out new recipes, making up his own adapted recipes, and experimenting with stuff he’s seen before.

i would also argue that his occasional journaling is a creative outlet, though all he does is record his experiences and impressions of interesting things every now and then without trying to make it into some kind of story. but it’s a way for him to express himself, and he also uses it as a way to be in conversation with his own thoughts and feelings, so in that way it’s a kind of creative outlet as well, albeit a bit non-traditionally. 

[draconiium]

♡ [hc meme, not me just sending you a heart - even though I would, definitely]

                                                                headcanon prompts [ x ]

♡ : Is there a certain scent that brings about nostalgia? If so, describe a memory this scent brings back.

this is such a you question, ree

the smell of cooking sauerkraut brings him right back to home, every time. it’s not an uncommon smell in bern, but it was a routine thing back in his household growing up, to the point where the whole house kind of subtly smells like it, which he only noticed when he came home for the first time on vacation. so the smell of it in a pot always reminds him of his childhood, his mother’s cooking, when he had nothing to worry about, when his father was still there. there isn’t a specific pinpointed memory it’s associated with, rather just the sensation of home and warmth and comfort.

[draconiium]

redmessenger:

“I suppose so,” Lukas says as he balances himself with his lance. “Where are you going after this? If it’s in Zofia, I believe I can point you in the right direction.” The wyvern alone marks Zeiss as a foreigner, never mind the lack of knowledge of the war embroiling half of the continent. Maybe he’s here to seek Mila’s advice? He’s in for a nasty surprise, if that’s the case. “At least to guide you away from the worst of the fighting, so that you don’t get shot down by the Rigelians-”

The sound of horse hooves interrupts Lukas, and he quickly limps around Rubley towards the source, momentarily lifting his lance in case this newcomer isn’t an ally. A bow knight comes to a stop right beside the Deliverance’s archers. His massive horse dons the trappings of a (former) Knight of Zofia, stamping nervously at the sight of the wyvern. His rider is not nearly so perturbed, rather tightening his grip on his silver bow. Except for his lips pressing together in a tight thin line, Lukas’ expression is neutral. Years of etiquette lessons have taught him that he must bow his head to his social betters, but he ignores them today. “Sir Felix.”

“Sir Lukas,” the knight greets pleasantly, dark eyes cold like a stone. “I imagine you must have an excellent reason for being here, instead of with your group over at the catacombs. And with a…” Felix’s face twists in disgust as he regards the wyvern again, “a… dragon. Which- which is still alive- why is this monster still alive, again? Can any of you explain why a giant fucking lizard five feet in front of you is still alive?“ He’s addressing everyone as he asks that question, even Lukas, and something about that sparks anger in Lukas’ heart.

"Allow me,” Lukas says tersely. “I ordered them to stand down. Will that explanation suffice?”

Sir Felix splutters, face turning red in anger. “You- you have no right! As their captain-”

“As your lieutenant, my orders take precedence over yours,” Lukas snaps. “You may take your complaints to Clive if that is what you wish, but until then this wyvern and his rider are not to be harmed unless they prove themselves to be a threat.” He fixes the archers with a hard glare. “Do you understand me?”

The archers nod quickly, mumbling their “yes, sir”’s as they avoid Lukas’ eyes. Sir Felix does not answer as they do. He dismounts from his horse, approaches Lukas, and takes a deep breath before asking to speak with him in private away from the rest of the group. They speak quickly, the irritation and frustration clear in their voices only mounting over time, and the wyvern rider is brought up enough times that those in earshot of their conversation turn their heads over to him occasionally.

Lukas is frowning when he’s finished with his talk, exhaustion growing more obvious as he limps back over to the wyvern. “Zeiss,” Lukas calls as soon as he’s close enough, the sharpness in his voice from negotiating still present. He clears his throat, speaks more softly, more conscious of keeping his stewing frustration aside, “I’m sorry, but he- we cannot let you go just yet. We would like for you to come with us to our base, as another witness to what happened at the catacombs.“ And to make sure Lukas isn’t wrong in trusting him, as Felix had snidely put it. Lukas couldn’t convince him to allow Zeiss to go on his way, but this is surely better than getting feathered with arrows.

“The others would feel safer if you dismounted and kept a closer eye on Rubley,” Lukas adds. “With where we landed, the walk shouldn’t take too long.” Even Lukas could walk to this area of the forest with little trouble, and if Zeiss is as healthy as he looks he’ll be fine as well. As for himself… he’ll have to manage, unfortunately. Sir Felix and his horse are going ahead to inform Clive of their arrival, and in the shape that his hip is in right now he has no intention of getting back on the wyvern.

The scratches on his arms sting terribly as he offers a hand up to help Zeiss dismount, the other hand pushing the shaft of the lance down to get his "cane” back.

tell him where he's going? the alarm that had been suppressed by the easy comfort of the flight && then the lurching adrenaline of emergency now surges back full force, making his stomach tight as he stares down at lukas for what feels like a small eternity. he's gleaned enough of the situation he's gotten himself into to know that telling them he's on his way to rigel is not an option — they'd have no qualms about feathering him in a heart beat, then. he'll have to make something up, or maybe he can name a location in zofia further north, so at least he'll be on the right track.

fortunately ( or perhaps not so much so, in a moment ), the sound of hoof beats takes the attention off him, and all eyes turn to the bow knight riding in through the shadow of the trees. it takes only a look to read the startled hostility on his face when he looks at rubley for zeiss to guess that this situation's only going to go further downhill for him.

                                                      he's not wrong.

it takes all his self-control not to bark out in protest when the man spits out the word ' dragon ' — this isn't his place to interject, and anyway he guesses they wouldn't know the difference here, in this land where wyverns are foreign, strange beasts. but then he calls rubley a monster, and zeiss' hand tightens imperceptibly on the reins, jaw shifting. his returned stare at the bow knight has narrowed, taken on a steely glare. fine trappings, speech inflection and patterns that leave no contempt to the imagination — he's reminiscent of those etrurian bluebloods that look down their noses at the rest of elibe.

however, lukas is quick to jump to his defense, with a barely-concealed ire that catches zeiss off guard, as though the bow knight had somehow offended him too. stunned, he looks down at the bruised and battered knight, impressed to see the way he boldly holds his ground against a man who — as it becomes clearer and clearer by the moment — is determined to disregard him.

          ( it's frankly incredible to zeiss. unaware of the class difference, all             he sees is a subordinate officer antagonizing his superior, even             calling his orders into question. such a display would have him             immediately discharged — at least demoted — in bern. watching             lukas' retreating back as he steps away to speak with the archer,             he's baffled — why is he capitulating to this insolence? )

that stretch of small minutes is agonizing. lukas had told him he could leave, but it doesn't seem right to just take off again now when the six bowmen are still watching him warily and he hasn't even had a chance to thank the man and see how this all resolves. unsure, he sits quietly, keeping himself occupied with making sure rubley remains sedate; the thick, powerful body beneath him is tense with aggression, and a continuous, low rumble emanates from the wyvern's chest like subtle vibration. all his training and natural instincts are telling him to strike; zeiss is truthfully relieved he had managed to hold him back so well.

crunching footsteps through the grass return his attention to lukas, who looks even more worn than he had a moment ago. at his initially terse tone, zeiss instinctively straightens up in his saddle as though his own commander were addressing him. then it slowly sinks in, what he's telling him. go . . . with them, to their base? apprehension rises up, thick and solid, in his throat — he's already delayed his own travels his long. ( he's beginning to regret diverting himself to help with those terrors. ) rigel is expecting him to deliver the news, and if he gets waylaid too much, there may well be trouble.

but what other option does he have? refusing here would put him in treacherous position. with a firm ❝ yes, sir ❞ that masks his misgivings, he swings a leg around to dismount, stepping down on rubley's flank to stand now face to face with the armed soldiers around him. he slides his hand up the reins to clasp them at the base where they connect to rubley's breastplate so he can lead him firmly without any slack. with a stern glance to his mount that rubley knows means ' behave ', he turns to follow lukas deeper into the woods, choosing to keep quiet and as low and harmless a profile as one can with a war wyvern crunching through the underbrush beside him.

No Caving Under Pressure || Lukas and Zeiss

[draconiium]

"You have a bearded dragon?" Lukas peers curiously into the glass of Rubley's terrarium, watching with interest as the reptile swallows its cricket. "My brother wanted one when we were younger, but our cat doesn't like other pets so our parents wouldn't let him," he comments. "What's his name?" (rev your modern au engines)

he’s just dropped his backpack in its usual spot at the foot of his bed beneath the window when lukas’ question catches his attention. ❝ huh? oh . . . uh, yeah. ❞ he crosses over to the terrarium positioned on top of the dresser against the far wall, kicking a t-shirt lying on his floor under his bed on his way over, to watch the lizard take up position to wait for the next cricket to pass by, his eyes seemingly staring into space but in fact, zeiss knows, watching the insect’s every move.

hearing that lukas’ brother had wanted one is a bit of a surprise. he doesn’t often hear about other people getting bearded dragons, or even knowing much about them as pets. the most exotic he’s ever heard of is a high-school classmate who used to brag about his ferret.

❝ rubley, ❞ he replies, blushing. the name always sounds silly when he says it to other people, though he’s never personally felt embarrassed for naming him that, and had certainly thought it to be a fine name as a teenager when he’d first gotten him. ❝ don’t lean over the top too much; you’ll spook him. ❞ 

stepping away from the terrarium for the moment, he returns to his backpack && begins to dig through it, pulling out a massive notebook with papers sticking out at every angle. a couple fall out and drift to the floor as he flips it open and lays it on his bed.

❝ so you finished the, um, problem set four, right? ❞ after some searching, he manages to locate the semi-folded packet and frowns at his frustrated erased attempts to solve the third question. despite having only been assigned two days ago, the sheet is already looking a bit threadbare. ❝ i’m still kind of . . . stuck. ❞

[draconiium]

gradiivus:

      The darkness and the low hanging mist perhaps served as the only cover for Zeke and Zeiss, as both men were tall, broad, and difficult to miss, armored or not. Creeping from shadow to shadow like a thief was ill fit and out of character for Zeke in particular, and on more than one occasion, he stopped abruptly - with barely enough warning for his companion not to collide into his back - at the smallest sound or sign of a guard’s approach. He was skilled in combat and in commanding, which were the only reasons he had been selected to be the one to infiltrate the camp. No one in his unit entertained the delusion that the rescue would be completed without some sort of fight, not even Zeke himself, and his hand hovered constantly over the hilt of his blade. It was simply a question of when, and how many.       A fine rain had begun to fall once more by the time they reached the supply tents, and a pile of iron weapons - now collecting droplets of condensation on their sharpened edges - had been left conveniently unattended outside of one. Zeke nodded toward it in a silent gesture for Zeiss to act on what he had advised earlier, but the young rider was already in motion. The instinct to be constantly armed was bred into every soldier, and difficult to eradicate once it took root, but for now, it minimized the necessity of communication.       And Zeiss found a blade not a moment too soon. The voices around the corner stopped Zeke mid-step and he strained to hear the muttered conversation between two of the guards, their shadows thrown on the ground before them by the torchlights. There was, perhaps, even a third one who had not yet spoken and it would be far too risky to peek around the corner to check which direction they faced.       Zeke searched their surroundings for an idea, the shadows growing ever larger, but his fingers tightened on his sword and he lowered his stance; it seemed they would have to fight much sooner than he anticipated.       The long, single note of a horn rent the uneasy quiet and Zeke pounced on the opportunity to move. It was instinct to look up - he himself fought the urge - and afforded them but a second or two to make it past the corridor while the guards were distracted. Zeke clasped his hand on Zeiss’ wrist and dragged him quickly to the other side. And kept moving at a steady, quick pace.       “Be ready,” he whispered over his shoulder. “They know now that you have escaped.”

few times in his life has zeiss ever faced the sensation of time slowing down as much as it does in the moments after the voices crop up close, in the moments where life or death relies on a split-second decision. he sees the shadows, elongated and distended silhouettes of men, stretching on the dirt, warped by the dry grass. he hears what the voices are saying but his brain isn’t translating the words into comprehension.

the bellow of the horn is what kicks motion back into fear-paralyzed limbs, like a signal to take flight. adrenaline pumping in his blood, he has to fight to keep calm and not panic as he hurries after zeke, slipping by the soldiers while their heads turn to the direction of the alarm.

he doesn’t even have time to confirm. not a moment after they’ve crossed by, the men seem to catch the rustling — or perhaps the tail end of a shadow; zeiss doesn’t care to know which. ❝ hey! ❞ one of them calls, and without casting a look over his shoulder, zeiss hastens his step, breaking into a brisk run, trying to remain light-footed while being quick.

another horn bellows, sounding closer this time, and now the camp erupts into motion, voices filling the air, the sounds of tent flaps opening. are they going the right way? ❝ sir zeke— ❞ he hisses, intending to ask, but at that moment, they round the next row of tents into three men who turn to face them.

❝ you there, st— unh! ❞ zeiss wastes no time in barreling forward, driving into the man’s simple leather breastplate with his shoulder to knock him off balance before lifting his sword to deliver a single blow to the side of his skull with the hilt. the loud crack quickly crumples the man to the ground. they can’t afford the time to stand their ground and fight everyone who comes to engage them; they’ll be swarmed that way. 

as one of the other two men bolts — either for help or out of panic — zeiss looks around quickly. ❝ you said there were others coming? ❞

Amidst the Storm [Zeke & Zeiss]

[draconiium]

redmessenger: 

The bright smile on Zeiss’ face as he speaks of the wyverns he adores so much excites Lukas, and he finds himself listening intently as Zeiss speaks, leaning forward and nodding along.

Zeiss’ mention of growing up with wyverns interests him. Had Zeiss learned to ride them early on in his life? To ride such a creature at a young age must have been a true test of bravery and mettle. Lukas would have kept his distance from the wyvern, wary to approach more than he must. Even Markus, otherwise brash and daring in his youth, would have been intimidated. Perhaps it’s a conflict of cultures, one incorporating flight into their everyday lives and the other content with their feet on the ground, reaping their goddess’ blessings.

Still, to hear Zeiss talk so fondly of his mount, to consider Rubley as family… there’s something heartwarming about it. Despite how inappropriate it is to liken the two, it sounds as though Zeiss is describing a beloved family dog instead of a creature with a small degree of separation from true dragons. He could almost see a younger Zeiss running down a grassy hill, laughing as a small blue-scaled wyvern playfully chases after him. It brings a touch of a smile to his face.

Zeiss’ question brings Lukas back to the conversation at hand. “We’re unable to support dragon knights, since we lack a native wyvern population. And I’m afraid that we Valentians don’t have the affinity for dragons that the Bernese have.” Mila is the Earth Mother first, the kind, gentle sister of Duma, and considered at dragon last. Her true draconic form is rarely seen, let alone mentioned, and every artist depicts her in the human form she takes when she welcomes her children into her temple. “What dragons are to the people of Zofia - all the necrodragons and fire dragons and water dagons - are things that must be killed. You understand, yes?” Lukas flips through the book in his hands, eyes scanning the pages before he finds the word he’s looking for and points to it. “‘Today we know this war between the humans and the dragons as the Scouring, and no Elibean alive will be quick to forget the horrors that the dragons unleashed upon humankind.’ The situation is not quite the same, but the sentiment is similar.”

of course, zeiss knows that bern is the only place to support a native wyvern population, except maybe the eastern fringes of lycia — && that’s only because it borders bern. but even knowing that, it’s difficult to imagine a home without wyverns, a life without wyverns. 

they’re ubiquitous in bern — one sees them not only as a soldier, but as a day-to-day civilian. they’re much more effective mail carriers than horsemen, and anyone who spends some time in the bernese wilderness will likely see wild screams of them densely packed together. nobles often raise and flight them for competitions, though such practices are often looked down on by those from military backgrounds.

people must take so . . . long to get everywhere without wyverns. and wyverns are so much more intelligent than horses; zeiss can’t really imagine a bond between a man and his horse being anywhere near as intimate as that of a rider with his mount. 

❝ yeah, but — ❞ his protest is cut off by lukas directing his attention to the biography in his hands, and zeiss nods. any child born in bern — or anywhere in elibe, for that matter — knows about the tyranny of the dragons. ❝ wyverns are different from — i mean, i know the name is misleading. ❞ who had come up with the title of ‘ dragon knight ’, anyway? though now it’s used interchangeably with �� wyvern knight ’ and nobody gets any misconceptions, he’s hardly ever stopped to think about the potential for misunderstanding. 

❝ they’re — well, i guess they’re related. ❞ he thinks back to all his training with wyrmslayers, and how the wyverns of bern are equally as vulnerable to the same weapons that pierce a dragon’s scales. ❝ it’s like, a big tree. and . . . the wyverns branched off from dragons a long time ago, ❞ he explains, miming the metaphorical tree and its branches with his hands.

which brings up something he’s been wondering. ❝ so, what about ‘ mila ’? i asked someone if she was a goddess, since a lot of people sound like they worship her, but they told me she’s the ‘ earth mother ’, a divine dragon. ❞ he furrows his brow, caution worming its way into his tone as his speech slows a little. ❝ how does that . . . ? um, if dragons are the enemy here too? ❞

( cedar dusted ) ; && lukas

[draconiium]

shinonthegrumpy:

“Not too far from where I met you” 

The words comes out in short breaths as the ground gets further away from them. Both from pain and discomfort. Shinon isn’t too fond of heights, but it’s something he absolutely does not want to share with the other. Perhaps the pain plays a positive part in this. This way he doesn’t have to worry too much about the distance between them and the ground. Just don’t look down.

Shinon closes his eyes and tries to lean forwards with a slight hope that it will soothe the pain so, mistake. Gritting his teeth, his breath hitches painfully while hands clenches into fists. 

“Few hours walk I think, shouldn’t be too hard to see the gate from here” He manages to get out in pained grunts. 

He supposes riding horseback wouldn’t have been much different when it came to the pain, but they’d be closer to the ground. 

❝ just take it easy, ❞ he says as they’re gaining altitude, holding on as rubley balances himself out on the air currents, trying to even out his flight as much as possible. flying over floodplains like this means that turbulence shouldn’t be a problem, at least. he hopes — an afterthought that flashes through his mind and is gone quickly after — that shinon isn’t the sort to get airsick.

it would be better if this were daytime. vaguely, he worries that they’ll fly right past — or into — the gate without even knowing it. it wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened to him, and if he ends up being branded for desertion ( though the thought itself is ludicrous ) on top of everything else right now, he doesn’t know what he’ll do.

            a few hours’ walk typically means less than a half hour’s flight,             so fortunately shinon doesn’t have too long to suffer.

❝ where does the gate drop off? ❞ he asks once they’ve more or less steadied out — partially recalling that shinon prefers conversation to silent martyrdom, && partially because he doesn’t want to leave the sniper miles from help when he returns to his home world. wouldn’t that be just luck.

( reincarnated ) ; && shinon