fuonno

[fuonno]

[fuonno]

Crimson and cadmium yellow? uwu

copic color headcanons

crimson: how passionate is your muse about the things they love most?

tharja will dedicate her entire being to the things she cares about, mind body and soul. for example she works on her hexes with little regard for her own well-being, as long as the end results further her goals. she pursues the things she wants tirelessly and it helps(?) that she has few moral boundaries in her way

she’s an aries, you see

cadmium yellow: what subjects or topics does your muse avoid, because they bring up harmful / painful memories?

there isn’t a lot that tharja isn’t blunt and straightforward about, but she doesn’t really like to talk about faith. like religious faith, like naga vs grima and so on. for starters, she doesn’t affiliate with anything in particular, and she knows that people don’t like grimleal which is the closest thing she had to a religious faith

having grown up in plegia only makes it weirder: the ylisse-plegia war means that she has seen both naga and grima as icons of devotion and destruction. around grimleal she has no reason to be pro-grima, but around ylisseans she has no reason to be pro-naga either. seeing the aftermaths of the war makes her distrusting of both sides. she’d really rather not elaborate

[fuonno]

currant&malachite?~

copic color headcanons

currant: what's something that absolutely disgusts your muse (can be a person, place, thing, etc)?

one thing tharja can’t stand is blind devotion to any cause. she hates when people are baseless in their faith, especially if it’s something that could put them in a life or death situation. you see it in the way she questions fighting for gangrel, since she’s given no reason to lay down her life except that the king expects her, as a plegian, to do so. she likes to pick and choose the causes she fights for based on how much she believes in each one, or at least how much she can benefit. empty loyalty is essentially the opposite of that philosophy

[tharja vc] fucking sheeple

malachite: has your muse ever done anything that they winded up feeling incredibly guilty for in the end? 

sometimes she pries too far when she tries to learn about people and ends up overstepping a boundary that she hadn’t realized was there to begin with. or sometimes she ends up learning something that she wasn’t expecting to be the case (nowis and libras supports.....) she likes knowing people’s secrets, but knowing things that brings discomfort to people she cares for is regretful. in those instances she will feel pretty bad

[fuonno]

amnesicplegian‌:

“Every thought? …that would be a long list.” Robin replied, furrowing his brow at the suggestion alone. The tactician’s mind was constantly working in the background, even when he was holding a conversation with someone else, fighting on the battlefield, enjoying a meal, or washing up in the bathing tent. Aside from strategizing how to best take on the most difficult of challenges, Robin also sought to improve efficiency within their force itself, along with self-improvement. With so much floating within his mind, he was sure he couldn’t explain it all even if he tried.

Then Tharja revealed her descriptive summary of his actions from the last four or five battles they had fought. Upon first glance, Robin wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or disturbed. She had recorded even the most mundane of details, leading him to wonder just how much she observed him. While he was quite aware of the eyes that had been following him, he hadn’t realized the true magnitude of consistency. A nervous laugh escaped him, despite his calm countenance, and he straightened some.

“Oh, that. Well, I’ve been attempting to minimize my period of vulnerability when casting magic,” Robin explained, beginning to make gestures with his hands, “in that fifteen seconds needed to cast a spell, it’s too easy to be blinded-sided by an arrow or a quick swordsman. Therefore, I’ve been utilizing spells that trap the target, then use that time to charge up my next spell.” He explained, his eyes slightly lit with passion.

“Though Chrom still won’t stray too far ever since I took that axe.” Robin stated, cringing at the memory.

     She followed the motion of the graceful lines his gestures traced into the air, recognizing a few as common spells used regularly by mages of all backgrounds. Tharja's precious tome, the likes of which were near impossible to procure outside of Plegian borders, used different forms and components to draw spells and hexes into existence, and watching Robin work his magic captivated her both in and out of battle. Her casting style--and not to mention temperament--wouldn't be able to handle such a prolonged, deliberate style of magic. "I see," she breathed, eyes lighting up somewhere between mischievous and devious. "Perhaps I could lend a hand."

     The high-risk, high-reward nature of dark magic suited her well. She knew firsthand how dangerous dark magic gone wrong could be, with not just bodily but mental, psychological, generational harm on the line, and the dangers that preceded the payouts. Even having been born and raised in the presence of dark magic, she saw each hex for the potential disastrous outcomes each one posed, but she while she never recommended for others to try out the dark arts, she wouldn't give it up for the world. But trapping people was something akin to a pastime for her; Robin's plans sparked a few ideas in her mind.

     "Yes, he almost seems like a second shadow with the way he tails you these days," she mused without irony, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "But I have hexes for people like him. Should you need to utilize any of them, simply ask and I can..."

     The end of her sentence trailed off into a low string of giggles instead, muffled by the tome she raised to hide her face and maniacal expression. A second to compose her expression, then her eyes are locked back on Robin, business as usual. "I'd love to see what you've been cooking up. Why don't you put on a show for me?

a hex for aconite | tharja&robin

[fuonno]

colorful headcanons.

( send me a copic color for a headcanon )

frost blue: does your muse enjoy the snow and cold? or are they the type to enjoy summer more?

peacock blue: is your muse honest? what sorts of lies do they tell, if not?

lapis lazuli: does your muse prefer the idea of exploring the depths of the oceans, or the boundless expanses of space more?

reddish brass: how likely is your muse to step up and take the role of a leader? are they willing to take the challenge, or are they more apt to being a follower?

burnt umber: how stable is your muse, mentally and/or emotionally?

champagne: does your muse drink (alcohol)? are they a heavy drinker, if so?

tea orange: what is something that your muse is fascinated with?

malachite: has your muse ever done anything that they winded up feeling incredibly guilty for in the end?

olive: is your muse prone to feeling envious of others? if yes, what is it that they typically feel envious over?

vermillion: is your muse courageous, or would they consider themselves to be more of a coward?

coral: what is your muse's romantic and sexual orientations?

bougainvillaea: would your muse consider themselves as blunt, or do they beat around the bush instead?

currant: what's something that absolutely disgusts your muse (can be a person, place, thing, ect)?

crimson: how passionate is your muse about the things they love most?

raspberry: what food and/or drink can your muse not get enough of? do they indulge in it often, or is it something reserved for special occasions?

baby blossoms: does your muse have a favorite scent? what is it, and why?

mallow: what sorts of things might remind your muse of those close to them? any scents, objects, sounds?

aubergine: does your muse prefer the day, or are they more of a night-owl?

acacia: how much does it take for your muse to hate someone?

cadmium yellow: what subjects or topics does your muse avoid, because they bring up harmful / painful memories?

honey: when your muse loves someone (whether it be romantic, platonic, or familial love), how do they show it?

chartreuse: if you had to describe your muse with a color, what color would it be and why?

anise: when it comes to self-care, what does your muse do to take care of themselves? do they take care to spend time on it, or do they feel they don't deserve it?

new leaf: what message would your muse send to their past self, if any?

moss: how easily does your muse adapt to any new situations they're thrust into?

silk: does your muse care about appearances much? do they spend a lot of time on their own appearance, or do they just go with the flow each day?

sanguine: does your muse typically have an optimistic, pessimistic, or some middle ground outlook on life?

atoll: if your muse could go anywhere, without any restrictions whatsoever, where would they go? why would they go there?

cool grey: if your muse could ensure one thing for certain in their future to come, what would it be?

black: does your muse have a 'bucket list?' list some things your muse wants to accomplish before they die.

[fuonno]

Today’s inktober is Tharja! Or, uh, I tried. First time drawing her.

[fuonno]

ravensnruin‌:

He met her snarl with a grin that, if possible, held even less remorse than his usual. With a shameless giggle, he offered a contrition-free shrug by way of apology. Maybe he’d get better at keeping the time one of these days. And yet, he had been on target to make it here for their appointment, until…

“I got side-tracked, is all,” he said, waving his not-held-behind-his-back-hand dismissively. A closer look at the mage might reveal a few scuffs, and a scruffiness unlike him even despite his typical choice of for-fun activities.

When she rose to meet him (with that glare, no less), his facade of casual indifference melted in lieu of a moment’s hesitation. His smile remained, but his brows tilted with just the slightest trepidation.

“Wh- I’m not doing anything- hey!” He danced and wormed himself out of the way until he found himself bumping against the root of a tree and nearly stumbling. Defeated, he thrust the arm in question out in plain sight, and with it the handful of flowers hard-won. Black arum lilies. “H-here! I saw them on a cliff side on the way here and thought they looked like you. And thought you do a lot more plant-stuff than I do so I dunno. Maybe we could use em for our experiments today. Or not, nya ha!” 

Anyone who knew Henry even a little knew his sunny disposition was never, ever far away. “Speaking of, what was that hex back there, anyway?”

     Sly as ever, Henry managed to elude Tharja's prying for a bit until she finally cornered him against a tree; after all, she was nothing if not persistent. The resulting flowers were nowhere near what she pictured he could have been hiding from her, and it took her a second of careful inspection to determine that these flowers probably weren't rigged, that they were just normal black arum lilies. Pretty nice, too, she thought, curiosity overtaking resentment as she took the offered flowers and drifted to the side, admiring them under the dappled tree's light.

     "I suppose these are worth the detour." A gleeful edge to her voice gave away the list of possibilities that ran through her mind: black arum lilies meant protective hexes, truth serums, devotion spells... Yes, these would be good to work with indeed. "Thank you, then. Your capriciousness pays off sometimes."

     At that point, she noticed a certain roughness to Henry's appearance unusual for him to sport--a smudge here, a few scratches there--just different enough from a dark mage's usual wear and tear for her to fall back into a frown.

     "Did you crawl through a thicket on your way here?" Already her tome is open, lilies sandwiched between some pages as she started up a simple hex to clean him up a bit. From what she saw, there didn't seem to be any serious injuries, so the life force of a couple patches of wildflowers and a few of the low-hanging tree branches should be enough. As they wilted, Tharja directed her gestures at Henry, watching the transferred energy begin to smooth over some bumps. "You look a bit rough. Not at all befitting of our image as dark mages, mind you."

growing the strychnine tree | tharja&henry

[fuonno]

Tharja from Fire Emblem :3 

[fuonno]

     In a strange turn of events, Tharja feels that she is being followed.

     Her patrol partner, one of the cheerful "heroes" summoned from foreign lands into their Askran conglomerate, had been tailing Tharja from a distance for the past few minutes now. Keeping to himself and looking almost worried, he seems worlds away from the sociable stranger she had caught glimpses of at the castle in the past.

     She scoffs--she knows that look well. It's hard not to, when her entire life has been dedicated to the very craft that gives people reason to act like they were waiting for her to curse the rest of their days. She's not the type to explain to every ogling mouth-breather that she has no interest in scaring them either, instead letting them build up whatever fanciful narrative they desired for her. The more their wordless actions reinforced the fact that she was different, the deeper Tharja cloaked herself in her familiar miasma, the very stuff that drives well-intending people away. Being around dark magic filled her with a warmth not unlike that of her childhood, of Plegian summers and long nights alone.

     But with the way her partner shivers in her presence, one would think she had personally stolen the heat from his body. Sighing, she stops in her tracks and stares him down, wondering if he would come closer or continue to hover like an awkward puppy.

     "Cold?" she asks flatly, even though she knows better. The flame dancing between her fingertips, conjured in a matter of moments from her ever-present tome, illuminates her grim look from below. The sinister heat in her hand builds, then dissipates like smoke, cut by her frigid blade's-edge of a sneer. "We are a night patrol; no need to hide it. Unless something else is bothering you."

split perception ✧ Seliph/Tharja

@fuonno

The contemplation of the nature of ‘good’ and ‘evil’ was something he had thought he’d be able to leave with the final banners war… but as it seemed to turn out, Seliph could manage to elude such thought even in a completely new land, surrounded by completely new faces. Then again, it were these new faces that had brought those thoughts bubbling back to the surface of his mind. What was ‘good’, what was ‘evil’ – could a ‘good’ man do ‘evil’ deeds in the name of ‘good’? Could the same be said in reverse? These were questions too big for just a man to ask.

At least he was decided on one thing. If there was an actual embodiment of evil – true evil, purely malevolent from beginning to end – it was dark magic. It was said that it was like an addiction, like a sort of living force seeking to consume the user and corrupt them into something inhuman. It was the magic of destruction, corrosion, malady. He had seen the horrors of the afflictions it could cause, if it didn’t just kill you outright. And death outright would be merciful, in that case.

A part of him always figured that most of the people who wielded such magic did so not really of their own free will, but after having been manipulated into wanting to use it by other Loptyrians, appealing to the darker side of their humanity somehow. Anyone who would willingly chose dark magic of their own free will must be as evil as the arts they used, wouldn’t they? That’s the only way someone could ever rationalize it to themselves that afflicting their enemies with such a thing could ever be okay.

So when word had reached Seliph that there was a woman in this place who willingly studied and wielded dark magic, he made it his sole mission to avoid her at all costs. Of course, this only worked until the gods decided to play a cruel joke and have the both of them assigned to the very same patrol. Of all the people in this place, of all the capable mages in this place, it had to be her? He… wasn’t going to be rude outright, of course. But… he also didn’t have to say anything at all. Which was precisely what he had done until their mission’s deployment. Scouting. Easy. He could just… gesture at her, right? Or make her go first to keep and eye on her. Yeah, that’d be better. She could just as easily finish him off and claim it was an ‘accident’ – and with the effects of dark magic, they might not even find his body… Seliph shivers visibly at the thought.

[fuonno]

novice-gronnowl‌:

The shattering of glass made him jump out of his boots but his hand never left the tome. Boey couldn’t help but stare at the red liquid that came from it. 

A voice directed him to the one who had dropped it. Seeing that it was a regular human being lessened his anxiety some but his hair still stood on end from the strange energy coming from her. All the boy could see was a pair of sharp eyes staring into him. 

When Boey registered her question, he swallowed a lump he didn’t notice was there. “I was- I just didn’t know what was in here. I-I didn’t mean to interrupt… whatever this is.” he replied.

     "Really? That's your reason for sneaking in here?" Her attention dropped to his tome at the ready, biting back the urge to comment on how scared he seemed. Clearly she had also been shocked, but upon seeing that the intruder was dressed in robes and wielding a tome, she couldn't help but feel some measure of relief. Should she need to, it would be easier to explain her situation to a fellow magic user after all.

     With a sigh, Tharja tore the scarf from her face and crouched down, gingerly starting to pick up bits of shattered glass from her ruined vial. The string of curses she muttered under her breath had no effect but to add to her irritated mood. "If you're going to interrupt my experiments, you could at least have a better excuse for doing so."

Curiosity Kills | Boey & Tharja

[fuonno]

ravensnruin‌:

The crows arrived before Henry did, preceding his hastened steps with a flurry of settling wings. Out of breath after padding to an eventual stop, he stood a moment hunched over, one hand on his knee for support and the other carefully tucked out of sight behind his back.

Gathering himself, he straightened and for a moment surveyed his new surroundings. Tharja possessed a whole array of goodies, it seemed, and the sight of them excited the pale youth a great deal. Better that he greet his host first, though, no matter the temptation to explore all that fun-looking stuff.

But a glance in Tharja’s direction revealed a puzzling situation, now that he’d mostly gathered his wits. A rare crinkle in his brow, he looked on with something akin to worry.

“Oooooh, you don’t look so good, Miss Tharja.”

Then, with a tentative sniff of the air, and a sudden inkling as to the cause behind the growing onset of a weird, tickling sensation in his tummy, the white-haired plegian pinned a stare both hurt and accusing on his fellow dark mage. “Aw, no faiiiir! You started without me!!”

And yet, despite his plaintive protest, he kept still one hand stubbornly tucked behind his back.

     In true whimsical Henry fashion, he arrived right when she wanted to see him least.

     "I started promptly at our agreed upon time," Tharja snarled, forcing her words out through the incessant tightness in her abdomen. Maybe she had been a bit over-ambitious, jumping the gun to try out experimental hexes without a second set of eyes (and third, and fourth, if you counted his crows) to watch and lend support. "A concept you could clearly use some work on."

     Haltingly, she managed to cast a reversing spell and sighed with relief as the uncomfortable effects of the hex gradually wore off. For the caster to receive the worse end of a hex gone wrong was normal, but she had not foreseen starting off her day with Henry this way. As if nothing had happened, she dove right back into her tome, thumbing through the pages as if in search of something other than a temporary way to hide her embarrassed expression. She only looked his way to follow the line of his arm, which had been behind his back the whole time for whatever reason, and to direct a pointed glare at the offending secret. 

     "Do you think that if you hide whatever stupid thing you're doing behind your back, I won't notice?" Curiosity got the better of her and she snapped her tome shut, stalking over to Henry and attempting to steal a look. “Come here--”

growing the strychnine tree | tharja&henry

[fuonno]

[fuonno]

amnesicplegian‌:

“Hmm…” Robin’s eyes followed the path of the spell, feeling the wind whip past both Tharja and himself, causing his cloak to flap against his body with a cracking sound. Based on the presentation alone, the tactician was able to deduce that the dark mage was clearly trying to impress him. There’s no doubting the power of that type of magic. He thought to himself. Merciless, but that’s not typically a problem considering what we are up against. The average mage requires ten to fifteen seconds to cast a spell, whereas hers is nearly instantaneous. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed.

“I can see that. Your speed is incredible,” He replied, his praise sincere, “even the most powerful of mages couldn’t replicate that or at least, don’t want to take the risk.” He pondered whether or not he’d be willing to take the risk himself. Given all that he had to dedicate his focus to on the battlefield, he decided he wouldn’t have the concentration to use such magic safely. Aside from his personal choice of avoiding dark magic, there was too much mental work he needed to exercise to keep everyone safe.

The moment Tharja bumped into his arm, Robin inched to the side, conscious of his personal space. Though he wasn’t interested in utilizing the magic for himself, he was curious as to how she managed to successfully use the magic. Had she discovered a method of minimizing the risk?

“Well…what exactly are you looking for? Strategy is a pretty big pool to source from.” He asked, mentally beginning to organize categories from which he could pull information.

     Momentary sated by his praise, Tharja drifted away just enough to give Robin some breathing room, but not before taking a quick inventory of his appearance. He looked well enough, thankfully, if not a little tired, but she would be sure to keep a close eye on that as long as she was by his side.

     "Why, I'm looking for you to tell me about all those fancy little plans that you spend all day putting together, of course." She met his eyes, almost incredulous, as if confused by why he would need her to clarify such a thing. "I want to know every thought that enters your pretty head--"

     Flipping her tome open to a bookmarked page toward the center, she directed his attention to a detailed list of the movements Robin had taken in their most recent battles, from his spell combinations to his defensive maneuvers all the way down to how much mud he brought back on his boots after patrols. The log came complete with charts and diagrammed drawings--she had clearly spent a significant amount of time tracking his combat strategies, though her intentions were far from tactical.

     "--about magic, that is." The tome flipped shut and she hugged it to her chest once more, peeking over the top to smile at her dear tactician, as if daring him to find out what other secrets she had on hand. "Your movements in battle have been different lately. Efficient as always, but more cunning, and of course beautiful. I'd love to know more."

a hex for aconite | tharja&robin

[fuonno]

helpfulylisseanprince‌:

Chrom had always been one to make sure that everyone who was a part of the Shepherds was taken care of and made it a point to try and talk to everyone there. However, there was one particular tactician who he spent most of his time and energy on. He knew it wasn’t exactly fair to have favorites, but he was only human and Robin had helped him so much that he couldn’t help but be a little more protective of him. He would make it a point to at least go visit him a few times during the day, no matter what his own schedule looked like.

However,  he had noticed that he wasn’t the only one who seemed to be keen on visiting Robin. There was only a few times where he had seen Tharja, hiding in the shadows, almost completely hidden, when he had went to visit Robin. He had never asked her what she was doing, mostly because he didn’t want to be cursed by her for disturbing her while she was clearly doing something. He was exactly scared of her, but he knew that she was very protective of Robin in her own way as well and he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her wrath for any reason. 

He had just finished up cleaning Falchion and figured that he would go and see if Robin wanted to grab some fire wood for the camp with him. He stood up and stretched before heading out of his quarters, not expecting Tharja to be waiting in the shadows for him to come out. He hadn’t even been aware that Tharja knew his schedule since he thought she was solely focused on Robin. 

He felt the hairs on his neck prickle a little and suddenly turned around to be met face to face with her. Her words hadn’t scared him, but he was smart enough to know that she wasn’t just going to leave him alone until she got whatever it was that she wanted from him. However, he wasn’t sure exactly what answers she was looking for since he figured that she knew as much about Robin as he did from how much she seemed to watch the other. He could tell by her expression that he wasn’t simply going to get to walk away from this conversation. 

“Uh…answers to what? I’m assuming that this is about Robin, but I thought that you’d know as much about him as I do. I’m a little confused on exactly what it is that you want from me, but I’ll help you out with whatever it is.”

     Part of her wanted to grumble, if not solely out of instinct when talking to someone like Chrom. She could see why Robin liked to spend so much time with Chrom: not only did he have some kind of heart of gold, lending a hand to any in need regardless of station, he also seemed to genuinely care about all those he took into his merry band. The earnest, charismatic prince had even allowed someone like Tharja into his cause, after all.

     Naturally, she found having to talk to him confusing as all hell, but she would endure for her dear tactician's sake.

     "How perceptive," she remarked dryly, pressing her tomes closer to her chest, as if protecting some secret from tumbling out. She hadn't accounted for Chrom to pick up on her intentions so quickly; if anything, she had lost her element of surprise. No matter--getting straight to the point would work just fine. "You know exactly why I needed to speak to you. As if there were anything else you could provide me with. Unless..."

     She let that thought trail off before blinking back into focus, no longer meeting his eyes. The shadow of a smile, more sinister than such a conversation warranted, crossed her expression for a split second. "Well, don't worry about that. You can begin by explaining what you've done to make Robin lose an average of 118 minutes and 12 seconds of sleep each night. The bags under his eyes are a half a millimeter deeper as a result. Not to mention the frequency of his yawning--this could only be your fault." Somewhere in the midst of her accusation, Tharja had started to scratch at the cover of her tomes, overcome with concern for Robin's health but instead looking more like she was trying to restrain herself from tossing hexes in Chrom's direction. "You better have a good reason for this.’

with a side of black locust | tharja&chrom

[fuonno]

Unintentionally, Henry looks like he’s butting in on something but he’s totally happy to.  

[fuonno]

    In a castle full of so-called heroes from worlds abound, rare were the occasions that a dark mage managed to have some time to herself.

    Tharja had few hiding spots that offered the peace and quiet she needed for her particular brand of machinations, but by far the most suitable in her Askr dwellings was the room full of cobweb-choked artifacts in the basement where long-forgotten signs of the past lay. The first time she had encountered this room, the door had all but melted into its frame from eons of not being used. Nowadays, the door still refused to budge, but only because she started to place locking hexes on the room whenever she passed by.

    Of course, she was bound to slip up from time to time, as the creaking of the door opening and the sound of a stranger’s voice broke the silence. In her shock, she dropped a vial of dark red fluid, the sound of glass shattering visceral against the otherwise still room. A black scarf was tied around the lower half of her face, obscuring all but her eyes, which squinted to make out the intruder in the darkness. “How did you find– Why are you–”

    She hesitated, still trying to parse the situation. “What do you want?”

Curiosity Kills | Boey & Tharja

@fuonno​

Every time Boey passed this room it sent chills up his spine. He never saw anyone enter or leave it. The young mage had tried asking the others what went on in that room but they all replied with a shrug and an uneasy expression.

Under any other circumstances, Boey would’ve steered clear of situations like this. The worst played in his mind. What if there were zombies in there or-or vestals? What if a fafnir was lurking inside?! Okay maybe that last one was a stretch but his nerves were getting the best of him.

It was always Mae that dragged him into graveyards and such but here he was, on his own, digging around in things he shouldn’t be. With a deep breath, a shaky hand reached for the handle of the door.

“H-hello?” He peered around the door with his other hand on his tome just in case.

[fuonno]

amnesicplegian‌:

Tome in hand, Robin approached the training grounds, eager to invest some time into strengthening his magic. While he was confident in his ability to utilize complex and powerful spells, he was always improving upon the delivery of his attacks. His most recent efficiency project had been in relation to combining powerful spells, such as Arcfire and Thoron. Hmm…if I trap a foe within an Arcfire spell, that should give me enough time to charge up the magic required for Thoron. Then, just as the flames suffocate, I can launch Thoron through the smoke for a finishing blow. That would reduce my risk of retaliation…

At the sound of Tharja’s voice, Robin’s thoughts are interrupted, and he lifts his gaze to meet her. Though she had proven herself as an ally tenfold on the battlefield, he still couldn’t shake the discomfort that often settled in his stomach when he interacted with her. He didn’t feel displaced by her personality, but more so…this sinister aura that constantly seemed to surround her. I wonder if it’s normal for Plegian mages to carry that… He thought to himself, mentally considering the many times Henry’s questionable antics had brought him discomfort.

“Uh…no coercion necessary, Tharja.” Robin replied, approaching her as he would anyone else, carrying no hesitation. While it was true that Tharja could be uncomfortable, he never truly felt endangered by her presence. Recognizing one was dangerous was not the same as fear. His eyes moved to the training dummy in observation.

“It seems you’ve already become started. Hexes?” He asked, noting the damage did not represent that of a typical spell.

     "What a keen observation," she purred, peeking coyly over the top of the tome hugged close to her chest. "As expected from that sharp tactical mind of yours. Come! Observe."

     Turning her attention to the next training dummy, Tharja flipped open her tome and readied another spell, this time with a much more dramatic and intricate flourish of gestures. A gust of wind burst forth from her tome, whipping her hair every which way with its force as a hazy cloud materialized and streaked toward the dummy in the same split second. Upon contact, the dummy withered, the cloud dissipating into the sky with a faint shriek. Tharja looked smug, if not openly satisfied, tracing circles on the worn cover of her tome as she admired her handiwork.

     "They're the hexes you know and love, yes, but I've given them a little special treatment." Tangible, instantaneous damage comparable to that of an axe or dagger had been her focus for a while now, endless wakeful nights spent in pursuit of developing hexes that could replicate such an effect. Of course, all experimental hexes carried a significant degree of risk to cast, but for the sake of showing Robin, she didn't care what might happen.

     As if to nudge him closer into the training area, she inched into his personal space, almost pressing against his arm. "Why don't you talk strategy to me, and in return I'll let you know some of my..." Trailing off, Tharja paused for a second, staring Robin down with unnatural steadiness. "...Secrets?"

a hex for aconite | tharja&robin