frauleindermorgen - Tumblr blog

[frauleindermorgen]

The stage’s gears turn beneath her feet as the Garreg Mach there reconstructs itself, this time using the fuel of Pelleas’ passion; Micaiah grimaces, raising her shield as the glimmer of his blade’s light strikes both the prop strings and her eyes both.

It’s just in time too, for as soon as Pelleas’ introduction is over he is running and Micaiah, not expecting this speed, would not have had the wherewithal to protect her clasp if she had not already been prepared.

She needed to close the distance between them, that was clear enough. Time running short, indeed. Micaiah rises from her instinctual crouch and takes with it one of the bell tower’s cut strings with her, throwing it upward.

Again, the gears turn; again the scene changes.

Pouring out, spilling over

Your feelings and

The hourglass’s sand

Can’t you see It’s already slipped through our hands?

She stands a top a piece of old scaffolding as it rises on strings supported by wings unseen; trying to find the gleam of Pelleas’ dagger once more this time as attacker Micaiah lets loose her shield fly as a discus.

It clangs against the church bell with a sound that has her need to hold onto her bit of scaffolding so not to fall, but Pelleas remains hidden from her. She grimaces, stepping onto the bell tower just in time to grab her shield from its aerial rotation.

You keep running in circles, refuse to make a stand!

revue of chance

Mission Task Board: Rumors of an underground opera company spreads all the way from Enbarr to Garreg Mach’s own halls, describing an air like no other show. Two actors take the stage, costumed and outfitted with an assigned weapon by the opera manager, dueling to undo the star-studded button clasping one another’s capes to their attire all while singing and dealing with an elaborate and dynamic stage. The mysteries surrounding this opera company are numerous: their means of production, their motives for hosting these given the lack of an audience, and the strange reports that the actors on-stage always seem to lose control of their emotions somehow… Could strange magic be afoot? You gain your opportunity to investigate when a letter of invitation is sent to you, asking you to take to the stage yourself as one of those very actors with the promise that winning the duel might very well grant you a prize you could not even begin to fathom… [Grants Any Skill +1]   

[frauleindermorgen]

@chaos-named

The routine of helping with the med tent during this year’s Battle of the Eagle and the Lion was a comforting one; especially, after everything that had happened with Pasithee.

She had enjoyed her time fighting for the Black Eagles last year, but now any thought combat - even in good sport – made her stomach curl.

She focused on being in the here and now, and teaching steadying breathing techniques to any of the newer students, still shaky, who needed such lessons. Things were alright here, and she was in good spirits.

Though upon passing one of the tent’s cots and seeing a familiar shock of red hair Micaiah wondered if she had been caring her herself properly. Surely, she was just seeing things; surely this could not be –

“Yune?”

Micaiah bends down to take a look at her, although it’s clear she’s already been seen to; she holds a hand out, and then wavers. She has never touched Yune in her non-avian form before, never had the chance.

“You’re hurt,” she says, frowning with a slight chide to her tone.

a song i heard, reminding me that i'm not alone

[frauleindermorgen]

for the meme! from RD Chapter 3-13, there was too much to copy/paste, but i'm sure you know the moment...

Micaiah: “All right… I’ll do it… I’ll do it for you, and for Daein.” Pelleas: “Thank you, Micaiah.” (Pelleas hands Micaiah a dagger)

wow radiant dawn spoilers!!!!!

rune & co click away now : )

SOME PEOPLE LIKE TO THINK ABOUT CH 13 AND SUFFER. Luckily for yall I am some people. In order to talk about this line and Micaiah's response I think we need to look at Pelleas' reasoning

13-2 pre battle dialogue

"Individual lives taken before your eyes weigh more heavily than the many lives taken during the chaos of war. If that life is someone dear, the burden is even worse. It's only human. Isn't that true? Micaiah. It’s your caring soul I admire. That's why I want it to be you. I want you to kill me.”

Of note, in the Japanese version, Pelleas specifically says human nature is at its core self-serving, that care for another’s life is based on one’s ego/connections. He continues:

[ペ���アス] ミカヤ…… 僕は、そんな君が好きだよ。 だから…君に頼みたい。▼ Rough translation: Micaiah…. That’s the part of you that I love. That is why I want it to be you I ask this of.

(the scene continues on as it does in the localized version)

To put this in further context prior to chapter 12 and the revelation of the blood pact (i.e. Micaiah finding out that no matter what Micaiah does the Senate’s control of the King and his Kingdom means loss of all life in Daein) Micaiah had been pushing herself both mentally and physically to be a general who minimized death and unneeded damage.

Sothe: Micaiah, it's over. The front line is broken. The apostle's army is crossing the bridge. Micaiah: All right, then... Order a retreat. Inspector npc: Wh-what?! No! Are you a simpleton? Just destroy the bridge! [...] Micaiah: Inspector. While I respect your opinion... The final decision is up to me, as commander in chief of this army. Sothe, order the retreat. Get those men out of there before they're routed. -Ch 11, post battle dialogue

Then, in chapter 12 she discovers no matter what she does if she and Pelleas do not follow the Senate’s orders precisely, their entire nation, Micaiah’s reason for fighting all this time, will perish. Micaiah is nothing if not determined.

The apostle’s army, previously, toward whom she showed mercy she now prepares a rockslide/rain of fire death trap for:

Micaiah: All forces, get in position! Our target is the apostle. We will attack her while General Ike is distracted. If we let her through, her army will cross into Begnion. That will surely anger the senate, and the senate will move to destroy Daein. We must fight with everything we have so that Daein may live on! Sothe: But, Micaiah... Is this really necessary? Can't we avoid all of this fighting and somehow pretend to obey the senate? Taouroneo: Micaiah, it was you more than anyone else who used to hate plans like this... Micaiah: The apostle's army has incredible numbers. We wouldn't stand a chance taking them head-on.

The only thing that stops Micaiah from killing Sanaki and her Holy Guard outright is Tibarn taking Sothe hostage and Micaiah freezing up at the prospect of losing the person she cares for most in the world, despite it meaning her entire army would be routed.

Sanaki pleads on Sothe's behalf and Tibarn/Ike's army leaves but Micaiah is shaken. And then when back in the castle Pelleas immedaitely calls for her, asks her to kill him, and upon her refusing citing her recent revelation re: Sothe and Tibarn has the gall to say:

"Even if it hadn't been Sothe in front of you, you would have reacted the same way. That's the kind of person you are."

I think she's fucking PISSED!!!

There's much to be said about Micaiah and her lack of agency in the narrative throughout both part three and four but Pelleas is saying this to her, right before his own request can be nothing but maddening.

From the start, Micaiah has felt kinship with Pelleas and believed in his kindness. In their private moments together Micaiah drops the 王 and refers to Pelleas with just -sama, he may not be part of the Dawn Brigade but he is firmly someone she thinks of as a comrade and perhaps more.

And he's now using that gentle/kind nature that she once so admired to shove Micaiah into a corner. To kill him with her own hands. GRANTED, the game does give you a chance on playthrough one for Micaiah to refuse and Pelleas accept that. BUT STILL!!

Of note, too, Micaiah is tearing up and stammering throughout this exchange in Japanese. I think Micaiah is used to handling grief, I do not think she is used to handling this kind of anger. This is further supported by the fact IF Micaiah accepts Pelleas' request every single line of hers in Japanese is "...". She refuses any further conversation with him, even when he directly asks her to pass on a piece of jewelry to Almedha.

Her last words to him are: わかり…ました…… あなたの……ために…… ………わたしが………▼ "I... understand. If it's for you.... I... I will...."

(there's no mention of Daein here which, while I think is in the back of her mind. does indeed make the scene all the more charged and intimate)

N has thankfully (?) asked me for the rest of the (optional and ng+_ dialogue here so ending for now. But yeah, I think rather than saddened (which she is. The scene in fist playthrough ends with Micaiah breaking her silence to sob openly ala localized) Micaiah is also quite furious in this scene. And it's something I have a lot of fun thinking about. :upside down:

[frauleindermorgen]

Send me a quote/scene from my character’s canon, and I will explain (ic or ooc) what went through my character’s head during said quote/scene!

[frauleindermorgen]

( fe10 spoilers )

She notes Naesala’s opinion on titles, pausing at his next quip; he may no longer be a king, but as a fellow thrall to Begnion’s blood pact she imagines he may well speak of worries she has long mulled over, even if only to pry at her for the fun of it.

“Of course I have. Daein continues to grow strong by its own merits and will continue to do so all the more after everything I have learned here.”

Saying this, she turns back to the flower; noting Naesala gentle touch of its stem, “mm,” she admits, “you are not wrong. It is quite easy to let one's own emotions affect how to interpret another’s. Especially something as sedate as a plant, but I cannot help but think I am on to something.”

Putting the notebook down, Micaiah circles around to Naesala’s side of the flower; but stare as she might, no more flashes of inspiration come to her. She hums.

“If I were a flower meant to mark such a tragic event I think I might dislike to grow myself. People seldom like to be reminded of what they have lost.”

She stills for a moment, letting that hang in the air; were there raven branded she wondered? Had Naesala in his long life known any, or merely avoided them as so many laguz did? It mattered little to their current circumstance, but certainly - at least in the realm of the political - was something to think about.

“But,” she continues, “people do seem to want to remember it despite all that. Maybe we just need to remind it of that fact? I suppose we could put on a play right here.”

Her eyes twinkle, amused, as she attempts to catch Naesala’s own.

it's getting late little moon finish the song

[frauleindermorgen]

Winning was not exactly her intent when she  had initially reached out to Pelleas to keep him from doing anything rash, but if it meant he would stop and ponder in this moment with her she would gladly take it.

“It does sound similar,” she admits, once Pelleas has explained again the meaning and his interpretation of the dark sigils; “though chi… there isn’t anything quite like it in any of the arts I’ve practiced.”

Besides Sacrifice, that is; and besides the seid magic she had seen Rafiel perform but she keeps that as an aside in her own mind for now.

I think, he says, a casual filler word in any other discussion they’d have that still manages to fill Micaiah with unease, still, right then and there she decides she will trust him if only because she is here to pull him back from the brink.

“Alright. It’s true that I too draw on my own vitality at times, but never as an outward force — if that is truly the kind of power we need to access the weapon then it makes sense you would be the one to wield it.”

He’s already caught on to her own plan and she nods, taking his hand again as she glances down at chi. She doubts he needs to stand over it exactly, but the circle itself… that needed to be complete.

“We discussed this when we first came to Fodlan, remember? How our differing magics correspond to Order and Chaos. The completion stage on my end is one of balance, as I mentioned, so that’s exactly what I plan to do. When you call upon your spirit and it asks for its price I will be there to support you.”

In other words, Pelleas, if all went well, would take hold of the spirit and dictate its direction while Micaiah would herself hold onto Pelleas’ life force.

Already, Micaiah’s eyes fall back to the Faith magic sequence as she goes over each symbol in her mind - she repeats them one by one in an inner mantra before catching Pelleas’s gaze

“When you are ready, then. We begin.”

tête-à-tête

[frauleindermorgen]

december activity - passed! 1 skill point gained. 43 ->44 Allocated to Faith. Faith at 19 points

january activity - passed! 1 skill point gained. 44 -> 45 Allocated to Faith. Faith at 20 points

event claims:

1x knowledge gem toward Faith (Faith at 21/S+)

1x FAST OF THE CHARITES 1x Gospel of Pi 1x Mage's Bauble

[frauleindermorgen]

@childempress

Micaiah set up the perfect afternoon tea as best she could by herself. For really, who could she ask for help? Sephiran, she supposed, would be one person to ask concerning the empress’s preferences but he had spent years learning those things and selfishly Micaiah wished to do the same, even if their time together could never be as long. She wanted this for herself.

Sothe would not have refused her, but he was still growing used to Pelleas who was remarkably less new. Sanaki, here - beside Micaiah, well, it hardly felt real.

But, Micaiah thinks smiling, as she watches the way Sanaki takes the seat across from her, it is.

“I wasn’t sure what types of blends you before so I had some people in the kitchen suggest a few. I prefer bitter myself. Oh, but there’s sugar! Would you like some?”

She picks up the container of sugar cubes, and places it closer to Sanaki. She deftly managed to avoid upsetting the tea cake tray they also have before them, though nowhere near as gracefully as the empress has taken her seat. This causes Micaiah to giggle (with nerves certainly but also something near elation), as does the whole situation.

“Sorry, what a thing to ask after everything. But it certainly is a simpler question than asking you about Begnion, isn’t it? I thought…. If you did not mind, we could start with smaller things.”

where this warmth is headed

 RD ending spoilers follow for this thread !

[frauleindermorgen]

When the harrowed husks drag themselves back to the monastery, Sothe does not return to his room.

He seeks out Micaiah, instead - where else could he go? He is in her room before he has bandaged his wounds, every inhale still a stabbing pain. Dying is a memory in his blood, the burning pain of venom, and he selfishly does not want to be alone. He is sure Micaiah suffered, too. But he cannot bear it.

He sits on her floor, legs folded beneath him, whittling at a block of wood. The noise of breaking wood fills his ears - he carves too heavily, though. Large chips fall to the floor. Harsher, harsher. Distress rolls of him in waves, a palpable thing. He cannot breathe.

He doesn't dare to speak to Micaiah, either.

No more secrets.

But if he doesn't speak, he can't lie - and he can't bear to tell her that he died, that it felt so real, that he wasn't strong enough.

She wants to find them all, as she always does, after it happens. Why, why do the missions keep happening? She realizes now, after seeing Pasithee in tow behind them that she may never know, and she no longer wants to; not if such horrors were the cost.

Most of all, she wants to go home with all of them; but home comes in many forms and while she cannot return to Daein right away she finds Sothe waiting for her. She manages not to cry, just pulls the quilt off of her bed and places it around the both of them as she takes her place beside him.

Her notes are beside her but this time, she is unsure if writing will truly help; and she wonders if she starts if her scrawl might take the form of names of family not her own (not ever), so she focuses instead on the sound of Sothe's carving. Eventually she pushes her own papers away and wraps the quilt more tightly around them, putting one hand around Sothe's far shoulder (so large now, but he lets her do this and so she can), leaning her head against the closer one.

[frauleindermorgen]

@justices-blade sent:

"Micaiah!" Clarion clear, like jolly bells — In fact, Edward does jingle over to her, the bell on the hat he's donned tinkling with every step. There's a considerable bag of various stuff slung over his shoulder, calling to mind a particularly festive Nevassan paperboy if you look at him at the right angle — The illusion dispersed mostly by his still decidedly in school uniform, though, save his usual blue sash that he's traded out for a red and green one, bought for the occasion. Once he comes to a skipping skidding stop in front of her, he reaches to rifle in his bag. And rifles. And grumbling a little, rifles a little deeper, before: "Aha!" Grinning from ear to ear, he produces a little package, though it's hardly packed; A pair of short black fingerless gloves pulled over eachother, fashionably stitched with red thread, with a very rotund crocheted bird nestled into them, its sleepy face peeking out of the opening. (It's occurred to him, sure that he's never seen her hands wholly bare before, no matter how much blood or muck was on them, no matter if she's handling oil or water. Her fingertips are gentel, soft-seeming, but he doesn't know what's beneath. If you asked him honestly, he doesn't really care, even if she ended up having fur on her forearms or something. Or, well, he cares, but not like that. Her secrets are hers alone to give, to share, and if she ever does, he'll take hers to his grave.) "These don't stain easy, so you can get into all kinds of gunk without having to take 'em off! Also," He plucks the bird out of its little hollow, squeezes it a little, then trills, before laughing and handing her the gifts. "From me to you, for the season! Happy Winter Festival, Micaiah!!"

Before she had met the Brigade winter had been her least favorite season; it had forced her to mingle with people far before she felt ready to, just to have some warmth, but she could never explain why the hearty soups even given with the best of intentions made her sick or why the prying eyes and thoughts of men beyond the bonfire made her shiver.

With Sothe, it had been better; though he was an entirely new person to be concerned over, she found he worried about her too in turn, and the knowledge of that most times was enough to warm her by proxy and drive away the unwanted feelings of others that seemed to so often crowd her.

Together, with Nolan, and Leonardo, and Edward was the first time Micaiah had danced on bonfire night, even if it was only a tiny fire lit for the five members of their brigade; and it was in that moment, insisting Nolan come let loose with the rest of them that she first started to appreciate the merits of winter.

Now, especially at Garreg Mach, she could not hate winter if she tried.

Particularly not when it is Edward of all people acting as its emissary at her quite literal doorstep, she giggles as he digs into his bag and wonders idly how many other stops by dorms and offices he might be making.

“Oho?” She responds to his exclamation of triumph, her own curiosity replaced by swelling affection as she takes the soft packet from him as soon as its thrust upon her though carefully so might truly have a chance to look at it as she turns it over in her hands.

“Oh Edward, they’re wonderful… and whenever I look at them now I can think of you. Why, I should put them on now!”

It had been said without thinking, at first; but as the words fall from her lips they feel right. Edward had not hated her for whatever she had done in that horrible dream, and perhaps too he will not hate her now – that she has to trust.

She has to trust.

“Come in for a moment?” Micaiah asks, stepping backward so he can enter her room. The lamp at her desk is still lit, and she steps over to it, package still in hand; she carefully places the package next to it on the surface there before slipping off her right glove. The curled edge of the brand there on her hand stands out starkly in the candle light, but Micaiah makes no attempt to hide it; merely nodding at Edward again.

She picks up his package once more and walks over to him in the quiet of the moment, placing her bare hand on the little bird there as he had; she has to remind herself he won’t be cursed.

“Thank you,” she says, leaning into Edward, hand brushing up against his bag of gifts as she does so, “it’s so warm.”

[frauleindermorgen]

@cremisii

She had not heard of any local magic practitioners in Garreg Mach’s castle town or the settlements nearby it, but when Micaiah hears that this was a job for a nearby lord everything makes a bit more sense; though she had only visited other regions of Fodlan for brief missions she had already gathered that nobility and commoners did not mix in the same way elsewhere as Garreg Mach; and furthermore, the nobility here like so oft elsewhere always seemed to need to outdo one another.

(She thinks of the Adrestrian duke she and Pelleas had investigated regarding a magic “weapon” and hopes this time for something less dangerous, perhaps a little desperately).

“Shall we split up for now?” She asks, looking up at Hubert (Adrestrian like most non Foreign born Black Eagles, a mage, and dedicated to Edelgard; other than most unreadable even to her); “I can begin taking care of the first aid myself, but I would like to know what exactly caused this explosion - magic or otherwise. We can each report back to each other in say… two hours time?”

good cop bad cop but it's light mage dark mage

fracture / faith + 1

[frauleindermorgen]

“I think… prayer, like any conversation, is just putting your thoughts out in the open, even if we do not know who it is we might be conversing with — it’s worth it for the people we pray for, to keep them in memory.”

Micaiah does indeed pray to Ashunera, more out of habit than anything else; but she wonders what it means to pray to a goddess even when one knows said goddess is asleep. Perhaps there was no true purpose beyond her own comfort, but when Soren mentions Greil she nods; it made sense to her that Soren would look for someone kind, a leader among the dead for his prayers. That was probably one reason the Apostle had taken place in peoples’ hearts as a role, she thinks.

“Yes. Grant them peace,” Micaiah repeats rather than share any of her own thoughts. Soren of all people needed no sophistry in this moment.

He needs to talk, most likely always has (but she cannot blame him for choosing who he entrusts his words with carefully, they were the same in that); still, she is surprised he chooses her now to speak with even if it is the most obvious choice.

“Hm, well,” she responds easily, “it wasn’t really me but Yune, was it? She was the reason I was able to lead the Dawn Brigade so well back then, not I truly knew it or you would have believed it.” Surely, Soren knows that Micaiah is to become a symbol once again, though this time as Queen; still, talking about her time as general like this helps her keep a clear head with memories she knows to be real.

“Looking to another for hope is why we have community, is it not? When people are not born to people who love them they find their own families, and in moving through life they find similar-minded people and friends. You hardly need a goddess for that.”

Her own arms are wrapped around herself, but she inclines her head again in Soren’s direction - a smile playing on her face, muscles working as if they don’t quite believe it themselves.

“If I am a source of hope to you, then I think the same of you. I’ve thought of you as a friend for a while actually.”

They could never be what the Greil mercenaries were to Soren, or the Brigade to Micaiah; but nonetheless they had become something in their time together. How peculiar, she thinks fondly.

despair and grace they share a face

[frauleindermorgen]

Sleep offers little respite against the pains of the waking world. You drift off, and always you feel as though you are being scrutinized, but when you drift back into consciousness, the feeling fades, not unlike the coming and going of the tide.

One restless night, you are at last approached by The Watcher.

"You have a decision to make."

A feast materializes before you. You can smell it, can nearly taste it, you can feel the warmth and care put into every bite.

You already know, whatever the decision ahead, you can only choose one.

Little bird, wings once clipped,

There is something you can't do without.

Will you starve, or will you carry on, eternally cast from the hearts of those dearest to you?

Here it was, a meeting she had anticipated but never desired. Hunger gnaws at her persistently but so too does hope.

all partings lead to endings. All endings to new beginnings...

“I always thought I should leave first, but back then it wasn't because I wanted to hurt him. It was because I was afraid to be hurt. Do you understand?”

It didn't matter if the creature did, really; she steadies herself and turns away.

"I could trick myself into thinking that by eating now I could regain enough strength to return to Sothe, to everyone. But I don't think it will work like that…” no, that would be too easy.

"Even if Sothe and the Brigade forget our bonds or Pelleas my promise, I will remember. That is enough.”

She did not like it but before this she had accepted that eventually those memories were the only things she would have left to hold.

[frauleindermorgen]

"We were just about finished," Micaiah reassured Leonardo, readjusting the bag on her hip as she did so. There's tension in the air but even for Micaiah it's difficult to tell where it might be coming from, and why.

(Perhaps the village itself was the source of that uneasy feeling. There was a thought).

“The beast?” Micaiah says, for lack of anything else to call it. “Where?”

When she and Soren look in the direction Leonardo indicated nothing seemed to stir; Micaiah frowned anyway, for she had always trusted her archer’s eyesight more than her own.

“Let’s not venture far in that case… weapons ready?”

Perhaps an unnecessary warning, but it’s what she says as she takes the lead. And they are all silent as they continue forward - alert, and continuously unsettled, though once Micaiah finds a few small nettles at the side of the road she waves to her companions.

“There could be food here,” insects is what she means, but the nettles might come in handy too, stooping down she slowly picks hr way throughth path

Roll: 3. Failed to find food.

And that’s when she feels it. The unmistakable sensation of eyes upon her.

Roll: 3. Micaiah has also has been spotted

“We’re being watched,” she says, quietly to her two companions.

You, Me, And My Bestie The Horrors || Leonardo, Micaiah & Soren

[frauleindermorgen]

“I don’t mind,” Micaiah says honestly, for she had expected something like this even when offering the trade; “you’re tired, more so than most. Here.”

She hands him a small, rough disc of “flour” or what accounted for that when Micaiah had no real flower but plenty of vegetable roughage and time to press it. She had another half in her bag,, but was keeping it as long as she could; still, if she wanted to ask favors she could at least offer something as paltry as it might be,

“It looks as good as it tastes, but it’s something… If you can get that down I have more peppermint too. But you should let that melt under your tongue if you can - for the energy, you’re going out here too right?”

Or had been, at least. Coming to stand beside the knight sans his lance she looks beyond what she can see of the valley and wonders what a beast would be doing here in the first place. There was nothing, and Micaiah wonders if perhaps they could walk forever and still there’d be nothing.

Maybe Sylvain is rubbing off on her. Maybe the worst bits of all of them are, on everyone.

“If we go in that dream, none of us will have to be discarded. That’s what Keranes and Celephais think anyway; they want to cast this spell before we all turn on each other.”

She looks at Sylvain then, truly looks at him; she wouldn’t last long against his physical prowess even weakened as it was now, and perhaps he was right that Leonardo or Soren would think her foolish to risk it like this but so too was going further into the wilderness.

“I want to go home, to my real family,” she tells him, honestly, letting real hang in the air for a moment, “I’m prepared to do whatever I need for that. And keeping myself alive while looking for this beast, well… that seems important. So please, I’ll take whatever magic you have. I know well how even prayers are sparse now.”

white cedar

[frauleindermorgen]

aopi paralogue @gauldheri

She’s packed what she can, hastily-made medicine and what few rations they had in her small bag and so now she waits for Soren and Leonardo at the edge of the village.

A beast awaits, or so they say; but Micaiah cannot say if that is the reason for the trepidation she feels now.

When something does emerge from the trees she finds it Sylvain, lance in hand - perhaps he had been out hunting? It does not seem to have gone well, if so.

She nods at him; and then realizes, this may be her one chance to fortify herself for what is to come.

“I need a favor. You know Faith magic, yes? Before I trek out there I could use healing… and in return, well, I’ll give you what I can. What I have with me here, or I can lend an ear if that’s what you would prefer.”

white cedar

[frauleindermorgen]

@unsungblade

Even without her powers it would be simple enough to recognize how thoughts of Keranes’ and Celephais’ plan hang over the village like a fog; aside from hunting the beast that’s said to have appeared on the outskirts of Ruthalia there is little Micaiah can do but wait.

The shared dream is her best bet for getting back to Garreg Mach.

It is also, she knows, Aphaea’s doom.

She returns to the “doctor’s” house after finding nothing but what the mice have left behind in the garden; here, though she knows from Soren the medicine is elsewhere, there remain some supplies from what Euphorie and Electra had gathered.

She starts to grind what herbs she can, but finds both her thoughts and eyes drifting to the graveyard outside. Better to get this done in her own home, she supposes, that at least she thinks will be faster and then she can give what she’s made to the elders. And then…

She’s not sure; merely exiting with the little she’s found as quickly as she’s come in but as she emerges onto the door her eyes find Kris’s as he walks by on the village’s one dirt road.

She had seen him digging those graves alongside Sigurd and Python but they have not spoken since the “forum” (it would be something of a joke to call it that, if any of this were funny).

She looks down at the things in her hands, suddenly guilty, though this is the least of her sins. She opens her mouth, but only his name comes out: “Kris.”

If he wants to speak, she is able, for all the good it may do.

your sins are written somewhere