heavenlyknight

[heavenlyknight]

Lumenhearted

silesseti​:

“Ain’t it obvious?” Lewyn scoffs, “The weapon your husband is so feverishly looking for.” 

The ruse has been broken, the disguise unveiled. Her reaction to Erinys’ assail clears any lingering doubt in Lewyn’s mind that this woman is their criminal. Bard’s smirk returns to his face, for he knows what is naturally to come. With little surprise does he react to her unsheathing a pair of daggers from beneath her dress–one pointed at each Silessian. 

She, too, is smirking. But she knows not who she’s dealing with.

“Some date this turned out to be, eh Erinys?” But before she can answer, the fighting starts. Thief flinches for the prince, and he responds with god-given breeze. From beneath the cuff of his suit a gust of wind blows–small enough to not knock her over, big enough to push her back–and Lewyn lets go of his wife’s hand. He circles round the woman, casting another toke of his famed Forseti. 

Only this one does not push. It snakes round her side and recalls back to him when Lewyn balls his fingers into a fist. She is pulled and tripped over the leg of the table, a timbering tree in the wake of his storm. On her way down, though, she manages a single slash against his cheek. Droplets of red fall and splash against ornate flooring like falling rain, but are no skin off Lewyn’s back. He’s dealt with the avaricious before, knows they don’t take kindly to their truth in the limelight. A little nick against his face is a fair price to pay for justice. 

More importantly though, this woman has turned around. In her pursuit of Lewyn, who had so willingly labelled himself a threat to her, she lowered the knife pointed to Erinys. This, too, is part of the prince’s grand vision. He knows that the man is inebriated and a flustered mess–panicking as he tries to scramble to his feet. He shouts some incomprehensible garble, but Lewyn tunes him out. With Erinys behind the rogue, she is not only fighting two-on-one, but at a notable advantage. 

When the thief regains her footing and glares at the bard, she is met only with his mocking smile. Come hell or high water, his faith in Erinys will never waiver; he knows it’s only a matter of time until they win, so why not give ‘em something pretty to look at in their final moments of freedom? 

So much for avoiding the spotlight tonight,

This, however, is a dance that pegasus knight knows far better than that of earlier. She steps easily out of harms way, allows her husband to play his cards to best line up with her own, and strikes.

She bears neither magic nor hidden knives, but years spent with a lance have warranted her more than her fair share of strength. Man forgotten, for he likely will not get all too far anyways, Erinys watches as the woman raises her knife once more. In one smooth motion, knight catches the other’s ankle with her own, effectively throwing off the attacker’s balance to more easily seize her arms. They’re held behind her back, squeezed until her grip on the knife fails and metal clatters to the ground.

Erinys blinks up at her partner, ignoring the stream of curses from her captive and the eyes of the party that have all seemingly found their way to her. She nods toward the forgotten man who is still fumbling about a mere few feet away.

“Could you take care of him?” Not that it’ll be too difficult of a task, really, the poor thing looks as though he’s seen a ghost.

And with both charges apprehended -- her own having given up her thrashing in favor of avoiding the humiliation of being dragged out of the ball for all to see -- Erinys nods towards the exit.

It’s a relief to feel fresh air again, and even more so to hand off their criminals to the knights awaiting them. With a satisfied hum, Erinys turns to Lewyn once more.

“...I don’t imagine they’ll be inviting us back anytime soon, hm?”

- FIN .

[heavenlyknight]

Lumenhearted

silesseti​:

“Come now, babe. Surely it’s bad taste for an aficionado like him to hold an empty glass. They’re mellow! This is probably his fourth round yet.” 

His smile brightens, though it too is part of the act. It helps reassure the man, take him on Lewyn’s emotional rollercoaster. One moment he feels attacked by the bard, the next he’s being vouched for. A push-and-pull approach opens up plenty of vulnerabilities, as seen by the thief’s bubbly response:

“Y-yes! Oh yes! I just can’t stop polishing them off!” Whenever he finishes blubbering about, he brings his flute to his lips and downs as much as his mouth can handle. While Lewyn watches, he turns to examine the bottle on the other table. ‘Velvet Red: Bitter Finish’ it reads, and that gets a laugh out of him. By the time he turns back around, the fool is a hacking mess. The shade on his face matches his drink, and when it looks like he’s about to keel over…

…the clicking of heels breaks his flow.

“If you’ve had your fun teasing my husband,” a suave woman’s voice suddenly cuts in, its hand placed on the man’s shoulder, “We will take our leave. I’m not sure what your angle is, trying to drunken him up like this, but I assure you he’s had quite enough.”

With her other hand, she produces a trio of empty flutes. They’re given a quick waggle in Lewyn’s direction. Bard’s head cocks over to the end of the plainer table, and quickly confirms a gap–three flutes wide–in the arrangement of drinks. It’s easy to deduce that she dumped them before joining in. She’s crafty; undoubtedly a tougher nut than her supposed spouse.

So Silessian bites his lip and clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. His cool starts to waver as frustration furrows his brow. She’s good–damn good–but there’s got to be something he can fight back with. As things stand right now, he and Erinys look like the bad guys. He doesn’t doubt that the crooks would get louder if things continue, and the crowd would certainly not be on their side…

But then he sees it. Just when his mind is resigning itself to cool off, he looks closer at her hand. A band of sterling silver wraps round her ring finger, yet when his eyes peer back at the man’s, they find no match. A gentle tap of Lewyn’s own ring against Erinys’ is his way of communicating this to her–of letting her deliver the final nail. After a solid accusation, there’s a good chance they’ll put up a fight. Lewyn wants to be sure his beloved is ready to join arms at his side again, so he’ll wait for her to prepare. 

“...oh, sure.” Not that she’s convinced, of course, or doing all too good of a job to fake it, but it isn’t worth dwelling on. The approaching figure interjects and Lewyn does not respond. For a moment Erinys fears that he is at a loss.

But her eyes know immediately where to fall at the touch, dancing between hands. Genius. Truly nothing goes unseen by this man.

“Your husband?” Knight blinks curiously up at the woman, watching as she turns her nose upward.

“Of course. This is a couple’s only ball, you know.”

Said husband nods enthusiastically, relief at his partner’s easy recovery blatant on his features. Erinys frowns, brows furrowing, and nods towards the woman’s hand.

“But you don’t wear a ring?”

Of course, it’s a pretty easy thing to find an excuse for. Perhaps she had lost it, that it was not customary for women to wear rings where she was from, or even that she had just taken it off to wash her hands. 

But a guilty conscious is a clouded one, and the woman bristles instead of supplying an easy answer. Her alleged husband goes pale beneath her touch, which is quickly removed from his shoulder and tucked out of view.

Her voice is a hiss next she speaks. “What is it you want from us then, hm?”

[heavenlyknight]

to have and to hold  ༊*·˚  

silesseti​:

Stifling a laugh proves too difficult when he finally sees what his wife had been up to. It’s all so her. She rejects intricacy, strays away from that which her self-conscious mind deems her unworthy of. But it is all nugatory. Lewyn finds it adorable; it’s part of her charm, really. “Ahah, never change, Erinys…” 

Each of his fingers are careful to hold one of her accessories tight so that his other hand can reach for hers. He’ll gladly lead the way. And if she doesn’t like this batch, he’ll lead her back to the showroom, then to the fitting area, then back again, and forth, until his queen is satisfied. 

All this, and the giddy grin on his lips. 

Swift Lewyn takes her to where she needs to be in a heartbeat. He’s always been a little quick on his feet–nimbler than most. Be it the effects of holy blood or a byproduct of his precarious lifestyle, he’s mastered the art of zipping through crowds. Pleasantries are exchanged with a staff member, and presto! a fitting room, all Erinys’ for as long as she needs.

Prince presents it to her with a show of his hands, after his effects are unloaded into her awaiting grasp. “Here we are! Take your time in there, alright? ‘Much as I like to rush through everything all the time, I don’t want you feeling like you gotta be in a hurry for me. If anything’s too snug or too loose, I’ll run and grab you a better size.” 

It’s all a blur from their conversation to an open dressing room door. Erinys blinks, too used to that little quirk of Lewyn’s to be truly startled by it. A grateful nod as fabric is offloaded from his arms to hers, amusement warming her sigh.

“I’m sure it will be fine, but thank you.” Knight offers him a little smile as she reaches for the door’s handle, beginning to shut it between them. “I won’t be long.”

Lock clicks into place and Erinys turns to assess the ensemble before her. She should have no issue getting into it herself, having often waved away the hands that had offered aid back in Silesse. Careful hands work to undo ivory corset ties, easing them until the bodice feels just loose enough to pull over herself.

It’s nostalgic, almost. Layers of satin swallow her for a moment before falling into place at her hips, the skirt’s hem just long enough to brush against the floor. It’s all mostly routine from there -- adjusting and tying her corset, rearranging the fabric at her shoulders so it drapes properly over each arm. A moment to sort out the situation atop her head and she’s done.

The mirror, when Erinys finally turns toward it, reveals a stranger. She forgets often just how much time has changed her, for now instead of looking as though she is drowning in all of her finery, Erinys glows. 

She clears her throat, tearing her gaze finally away from the sea of earthy greens that make up her skirt and back towards the door. Hesitation slows her hand for a moment, unforgotten insecurity rising in her throat, but it is only that. Only a moment.

The door opens and Erinys steps out, gaze flickering around for the briefest moment before settling on her husband. She smiles, warmth in her cheeks.

“...well?”

[heavenlyknight]

Lumenhearted

silesseti​:

She’s a natural.

Lewyn can’t help but smile when Erinys practically reads his mind. It was by happenstance that he mentioned those drinks earlier, but now, it has proven a surprise tool that helped him later. She has come so far from the meek little thing that could barely ever work up the nerve to speak to him; forever shall she captivate his audience.

“Of course, darling!” he is sure to shout, pronouncing his voice in a way that could easily be picked up by any eavesdroppers. That way, instead of appearing as a pair of surprises to their suspect, they’ll give him time to mellow out his act and lower his guard. “‘Much as I’ve always loved dancing the night away with you, we are still walking home!” 

Before they take off, she receives her congratulatory wink. All is going according to plan, and a little encouragement from her husband might do her some good–lest they fail to keep it that way.

With one last, graceful motion, her hand is transferred from that of a dancer’s grip to a simple lock at the fingers. No matter how it’s held, it feels gentle yet firm to him. Erinys’ hands are those of a trained knight, yet no matter where they go and what they do, they retain their delicate quality. 

If he can, he’d like to protect that feeling, well into their elder years.

“Pretty fancy ball we’re having, eh?” he asks, once they arrive near the booze, “I’ve always been pretty big on drinks–you can ask her–so I was wonderin’ if you could tell me something about this champagne here. Since you’ve been looking at it all night, that is.” 

Though his tone is friendly and inviting, the prince wears one of his foxiest smirks as he speaks. The way he and Erinys are standing now, they’re between the man and the more decorated table. Half of his body and half of hers obscure his view from the bottle, meaning he cannot cross-reference his answer to Lewyn’s question.

Simply put: he’s been caught. The ball is in his court, and the bard cannot help but wonder how he’d struggle to do anything with it.

It’s only a little hard not to wince at the way his voice raises, the performative air it takes. Erinys lets amusement turn the corners of her lips in a private little smile, warmth creeping into her cheeks at his wink.

But they’re moving again before she can dwell on it, stepping towards the arrangement of drinks. She lets Lewyn choose their position, lets him figure out their angle of attack.

Casual conversation rolls off of his tongue with a practiced ease. Erinys blinks towards their suspect, offering a polite smile. It isn’t returned, the man blinking between them in the way that she herself had been so afraid of earlier -- considerably owlish.

And Lewyn’s last little comment doesn’t go unnoticed. In fact, the man seems suddenly terrified. Some kind of thief...

“Oh, mm, ah! Yes! The champagne...” Erinys doesn’t miss that same performative note to his tone, only far less natural and poorly practiced than her husband’s own. She also doesn’t miss the sudden movement from a few tables down -- the jerk of a chin upright and then its owner’s sudden interest in moving towards them.

Knight remains quiet, watching Lewyn’s little cat and mouse game play out as the other begins to fumble his hands in gestures meant to overcompensate for his lack of words. “It’s... oh, what was that word -- mellow! Yes, yes, very soft... Quite lovely. I haven’t had anything quite like it in some time!”

Now Erinys finds herself blinking, confusion hardly feigned. “...is that so? You’ve tried it?” The man nods, approximately four times more than any normal person and with a concerning insistence.

“Should you not have an empty flute of your own, then?”

[heavenlyknight]

to have and to hold  ༊*·˚  

silesseti​:

“Good question,” bard muses, fingers moving to skim the length of some fine-cut silk, “Why don’t we get you all prettied up first? That way I can get excited to match, and you’ll have the charming prince of your dreams!” He is so, sickly in love with her. 

Figuring she’d have no exceptions, Lewyn begins his perusal. Even without his attention to detail, the selection would be impressive. Long-flowing robes lead into streaks of golden finery, which in turn compliment the items with shorter hems. He had always been the adventurous type, so it is to no one’s surprise that he’d wind up in the accessory section. Veils, flower crowns, bags, shoes, necklaces–you name it. If you ever thought you saw your second aunt wear it at a wedding once, it’s there. Hell, half the stuff isn’t even the standard white! If there’s one thing the boutique clearly prides itself on, it’s diversity.

And for a pair weaved into such an oddball fairytale, it feels like home.

Erinys can hear a small hum from her husband as he moves around, dancing from section to section, looking for anything that’d look pretty and in her size. He shoots her a quick “Check this out!“ or “How ‘bout this one?” every time he finds something she might like. In only a matter of minutes, his arm is burdened with two pairs of dresses–one mint-green, the other sapphire-hued–a matching pair of shoes for each, and a pearled necklace. 

“How’s your haul looking?” he eventually asks, calming down from his quick lover’s spree to pay the bride a visit. His free hand shoots her a quick wave as he draws near, while the other holds out what he picked for her to see. “Feel like tryin’ anything on?”

Her tastes have always been modest. It’s what had suited her best, she’d thought, what felt the most comfortable. Clothing is a powerful thing, so easily able to draw attention to its wearer.

And standing out had never been a priority of Erinys’, not really. That position was filled, anyway, worn with pride by the jewel of her father’s bloodline.

Being queen had been a wild change, all of the finery of a noblewoman thrust upon her at once. It had been fortunate that then, at least, the choices had never needed to be her own.

Similarly to now, as her husband flits about racks of the most elaborate dresses she has ever seen as though he belongs there. Cautious knight only pokes at a garment or two, brows furrowed in intrigue before inevitable defeat. Each is shot down for one reason or another -- too many gems, too bright, too many things ill-suited to flatter someone so simple.

She is just tucking an impressively dense skirt of canary yellow back into its place when her love makes his return. His taste for her is impeccable, all colors and details she adores littering his collection, all dresses that she would never dare pick for herself.

“Oh, um...” Sheepish gaze flickers to her empty arms and then back at him. “Not quite as fruitful as yours, it seems.”

A fact that is likely not going to change, so the forest of silk and satin is abandoned in favor of investigating Lewyn’s offer. Delicately, Erinys picks up the sleeve of a dress, humming her awe at the chiffon’s texture.

“One of these would work. I do like the green...” She dips her chin, starry eyes returning to her partner’s face. “Lead the way?

[heavenlyknight]

dance in the skies ༊*·˚

heavenlywinds​:

nostalgia bites at her. both erinys and lewyn had come to her for advice often in her youth— whether they acknowledged that fact or not. it seemed that part hadn’t changed between the three of them. what a strangely comforting thought.

“erinys.” her voice doesn’t falter— it shines with the confidence of a leader and an older sister who was often relied on. “you’re their mother. there is more value in your thoughts of them then there could ever be for anyone else.” her hand settles against the top of her sister’s head, gently ruffling it in an affectionate gesture. “there’s nothing wrong with coming to find prince lewyn if he’s their father you know, but you have to do it with confidence. you can’t second guess your decisions, otherwise the kids will lose faith in you.”

Curse Annand for being so herself. Despite it all -- despite defying even death -- her sister’s resolve is impenetrable. Erinys blinks, offers a wary smile and a breath of a laugh at the affectionate little gesture.

And it is reassuring in its own way, the thought that her children would forgive her, that what holds them together is the same strength that brought her back to Annand.

“Perhaps you’re right, but I feel my choice to leave isn’t so simple as that.”

Knight sighs. It’s almost funny how now, after so many long years spent in desperation to be more like her sister, they have finally found something else to have in common. “My children think that I am dead.”

It’s the first time she has spoken that fact so outright. Something within her chest tightens, and yet the weight on her shoulders seems suddenly lighter.

“Even if it had been for what seemed like a good reason then... I left them without a mother. That is well worth regretting, I think.”

[heavenlyknight]

Lumenhearted

silesseti​:

“We look normal too, but we’re far from it,” Bard is quick to retort, “It’s the little things you’ve got to look out for…” Their dance continues, Erinys being taken for another turn and step to the tune of the music. With each note Lewyn’s gaze searches further–trying to peer through the biggest masquerade of the night. One moment he’s staring into her eyes, into all the wonder they hold, and then next he’s focused on the crowd. It is a delicate balance to maintain, but as she pointed out earlier, they have a job to do.

“Like that man right there,” he whispers, head drawing closer. Behind her and only visible after their next turn is someone perusing the refreshments table. Lewyn doesn’t point, since his hand is held in his lover’s, but the character is such a sore thumb he figures she’d notice. “See how he’s lookin’ at the flutes? You’ve gotta remember that our culprit has as much of a clue about this weapon as we do. It could be anything.” 

Starry-eyed knight is danced around once more, splitting Lewyn’s dialogue into short passages broken by the ball’s golden atmosphere. Conversation is a double-edged knife. The more they talk, the more of an idea they can generate. But talking too much would make them appear suspicious. On top of ruining the mission, that would intrude upon the fun of others. And Lewyn simply will not have that. 

“If he gave a damn about the drinks, he’d be looking for the bottle.” 

The rest is an easy insinuation. Paying more attention to the glass it comes in rather than the drink itself is cause for suspicion. There is little reason for someone to be interested in clear crystal–not when this is supposed to be a party for the elite. Fine glassware is a staple among the nobility, after all. This leaves the search for the weapon to be the only plausible motive, and between the way that man is both alone and shying off from the crowd, Lewyn is inclined to trust it. Making a move, though, isn’t so simple.

He cannot just waltz over there, for the man would likely notice and scare off. The lyre’s tempo has just picked up, percussion and woodwind soon to follow. Without words, that chorus of bards decide that now would be the time for fervorous merriment. Those who are off the ball floor are clapping along to the music, not stopping to quench their thirst.

So he dances on. Fingers tighten around his woman’s, knowing well that she’d understand their intention. His feet begin to glide. They do not hit the floor with heavy steps, but move with a kind of grace only the breeze ought to have blessed them with. To cause an uproar–to feed into the cheerful shouts and smiling faces of onlookers–would trap them in this dance for the rest of the night. Merely matching the other decorated men and dewdrop women is enough, for their splendor is spread evenly and unnoticeably among them.

It helps that his partner is the woman he loves. Were it anyone else, feigning normality with them would be an ordeal. 

This trait of Lewyn’s too is one that she finds herself envying. His knack for subtlety, watching people in a way that doesn’t make them feel seen and yet somehow still see so many details.

She is careful not to do the opposite, only giving the most sparing of glances towards the man he mentions. It’s hardly enough to even get a decent read on his appearance, but that’s better than giving them away by blinking owlishly at a stranger for longer than socially appropriate.

“What a strange place to search for a weapon...” Erinys murmurs as they reunite, the stranger’s silhouette vanishing behind her lover’s shoulder as the pair turns. “But then I suppose any of those could be weapons, technically speaking.”

Their investigation is interrupted once more by the music, bodies moving with the crowd’s ebb and flow as though apart of a collective whole. They blend in with an ease that Erinys is used to, and she finds comfort in that fact. The spotlight was never meant to be her place.

It feels like a lifetime before the strings begin to pluck a lazier tempo. Erinys spares a cursory glance around. They have landed themselves on the side of the refreshments, closer to the edge of the crowd of dancers than before. She isn’t sure if it was Lewyn’s intention or not, but knowing him...

The current suspect loiters a few tables down now, still investigating drinks although this time in far less ornate glassware. The potential excuse of simply admiring pretty cups is eliminated instantly, for what he seems so intent on searching through now look to be fairly standard issue.

Erinys’ gaze flickers to Lewyn. She’s no actress, so it helps immensely when there isn’t a need to act. “...would you mind a break from the dancing? You did mention wishing to investigate the drinks earlier.”

[heavenlyknight]

to have and to hold  ༊*·˚  

silesseti​:

The breeze always did feel softer while soaring high above the clouds.

Of course, Feathers never quite liked that it did. For that always meant more enjoyment for Lewyn, during the times when Erinys would allow him a taste for the airborne life–when she made him wish he had a winged companion of his own. The bard feels bad about forcing himself near her, even now. He understands well why she would hate him, but wishes so dearly that a pegasus could understand all the reasons he had to leave.

He must look even worse, reunited a second time. 

Erinys’ words push that regret aside. She reminds him, merely by speaking, that all things have a way of righting themselves in the end. Her voice is the sweetest birdsong, even in times of anger or despair. If she is sad, she does not wail, but sings songs of sorrow. If she is happy, she does not scream with joy, but produces arias filled to the brim with elation. And right now, her muse goads him to lend his ear. A few simple words, and Lewyn’s attention is all hers.

(When you are so high up in the air, it is hard to think of more than just the two of you.)

Hair is pushed out the way as he turns to face what she had spotted, his hand lingering for a moment so it stays in place. As he squints too, he can see it: the aforementioned wedding boutique. 

“Thinking of giving it a shot?” he chimes, “It could be a bit of simple fun, playing dress up like we ain’t got a care in the world…” Lewyn knows the answer to his question, so as he speaks, he confidently smiles. From behind her, his head comes to crane around and get a look at his wife’s face. And surely enough, there is gold in her emerald eyes– the spark of interest having lit a fire behind them so it can shine through. As he settles back into his seat, hands coming to grip Feathers’ sides to prepare for landing, he can feel their descent. He sweeps his bangs one last time, fixing any imperfections borne from the wind. His scarf is readjusted too, though when the mare’s hooves do finally touch down, his hands immediately leave to brace himself. 

Erinys can hear him whisper a quick “thanks for the ride” as he slips off, though they both know the pegasus is not likely to appreciate it. Not from Lewyn, at least. He isn’t one to dwell on it, so instead of appeasing the feelings of moody mount, he waves for his wife. The swift bard has almost taken off without her, and only now thinks to beckon her to join him. 

He’s awfully excited about this. 

“Don’t be too slow, now! We wouldn’t want everyone getting to the good stuff before we’ve even shown up!” 

There isn’t a huge line. Sure, people are starting to pour in–those moths drawn to the ever-burning flame of love. But the boutique has more than enough fancy garb to go around. Bard is just being hasty, for when it comes to taking life slowly and engaging in frivolities, he moves with the wind–blowing joy and passion wherever he goes.

At the very least, he leaves a hand out for Erinys to hold. He can be thoughtful and lively.

Knight breathes a soft laugh as Lewyn’s weight slips from her mount’s back. Feathers, for the record, seems to huff her agitation in response. It’s a silly little feud, she knows, developed by her dearest friend for her lover after years of watching jade eyes linger just a little too long on a man with no interest in her.

And though that had changed a hundred times over, Feathers was not so easily swayed. Intelligent as they may be, explaining the truth of the past few years to one would do no good.

So Erinys slips from her mare’s back, offering her a loving pat to her snowy neck. “We won’t be long, alright?” She presses a sweet little kiss to Feathers’ temple, laughing when her only response is another irritated huff. 

( she trusts her friend will not stay mad for long. they both know how many years it has been since she has laughed so easily, smiled so frequently. )

A post is located and Feathers reins looped loosely around it. With one last parting pet, Erinys turns back to her husband.

“Of course,” she shakes her head, amused, reaching to take his offered hand within her own. He is infectious in his excitement, coaxing out her own with an inhuman kind of ease. Once it had been something to be embarrassed by -- excitement, often over things so menial as this. Annand was never childish, never giddy over silly things like dresses or flowers or braiding her pegasus’ mane. Annand was a knight, and so too should be Erinys.

But not with him. Never with him.

They fall easily into the crowd of people, hand in hand. It’s fairly fast-moving, not leaving them idle for long at all before both are ushered into the little building. Every wall is lined with fabric, garment after garment, each more extravagant than the last. Every shade of white, from ivory to the palest of pinks and blues, ranging all the way to less traditional and more striking colors.

And that’s just the dresses.

Erinys turns her gaze back to Lewyn, wide and warm and unabashedly eager. “...where do you want to start?”

[heavenlyknight]

F is For Fighting

swiftscion​:

Friendship bracelets are making a resurgence, but this time, lance wielders are tying them to the shafts of their weapons to show off their popularity. Join the cool kids and decorate your lance with some sick new threads. [Grants Lance +1]

It feels weird, being given a lance. 

Larcei was just straight up handed one, without her say-so, without even a moment to protest and explain that swords are more up her alley. One minute she’s checking out what this large gathering of people are up to, the next she has a training lance in hand. She feels like a shooting star in the afternoon: falling so helplessly in the wrong place, at the wrong time. But life had always found a way to surprise her… Perhaps she ought to just roll with this.

She then finds herself peering into a bin of crafting materials. All sorts of beads and charms of different shapes and sizes lay at the bottom, with a thin mesh of strings for anyone to take. It is a simple system, requiring only the decency of one with a friend to not take more than they need. And so far, it’s worked out. Larcei cocks her head around before she starts looking for things to work with, and what her brief glance reveals to her is that things are running smoothly. 

So she figures she ought to make a couple. One for everyone in the orphanage, at least, and then a few more for those who put so much care into raising her. It is only right that she give back to them, she figures. Back when she was just a little sprout learning to grasp a sword, they were all there for her. They stood by her side as she rose up to challenge the empire and never budged–never gave the enemy an inch of space to come between them. For that, she owes them her life, but a tacky old bracelet will do for now. 

Before she knows it, she’s down at her own spot, threading string through bead and charm to make something special. It is a slow and arduous task, especially to an untrained hand. By the end of this little exercise she’ll come to value the small, precise movements DIY’s require, and maybe even apply them to her swordplay. 

But that’s not all she’ll walk away with.

She catches someone–a woman, with hair the color of an open field–threading by her lonesome. Most other people have been found in pairs or groups, so while it is strange that Larcei is by herself, it’s worse that this fully grown lady has no one to talk to. Raven-haired decides that simply will not do, so she begins the ridiculous and awkward process of scooting herself closer, until she is at a reasonable distance to stand and talk to her.

“Hey, who’re you making that for?” 

Both her greeting and the smile on her face are chipper and sweet, made even sweeter by a small wave. “I noticed you were sitting alone, so I figured I’d ought to talk to you. I’m Larcei, by the way. Nice to meet you!” 

She is completely clueless about her identity, just striking up conversation to maybe earn herself a new buddy. After all, isn’t this what the event is for? In any case, she assumes Erinys is a humble nobody–maybe even a native to Fodlan. 

She will be proven so, so wrong.

Erinys doesn’t mind the solitude. She never has minded this feeling of being alone while surrounded by others, not really. Her company is the quiet kind, anyway, paired nicely with someone more willing to fill the empty air for her. 

And that air, at the moment, has no need to be filled. Lithe fingers twine string together with a practiced motion, a soft smile formed on the knight’s lips. Her bracelets are imperfect, their knots never the same size and their lengths always just a little bit off, but Erinys hardly notices.

She reaches for her lance now, humming as its familiar weight settles in her lap, and begins the process of tying her newest creation around its shaft. Braided strands of green and gold and just the faintest shock of red wrap tightly beneath another, thicker bracelet composed of blue and white with that same green woven at its center. Both settle perfectly beside one another with just enough room between wood and metal for her to tie a ribbon proper.

Her thumb smooths over both and, satisfied, her weapon returns to its spot in the grass. This time when she reaches for her selected threads, Erinys comes away with green, blue, and purple. Considering her hand a moment, she picks up the gold as well. 

Starting a bracelet is the hardest part -- sorting and arranging colors, beginning the first knots. It takes the kind of focus that furrows the knight’s brow and brings her teeth down on the inside of her cheek, but it always works out eventually. Even if a little lopsided.

In her focus, she hardly notices the approaching girl. Doesn’t notice at all, in fact, until her voice cuts through the indistinct chatter of everyone else.

Jade gaze flickers up, fingers paused. For a moment she swears she knows this girl -- recognizes something in the heather of her eyes or ebony hair that sweeps over her forehead. She has seen her former comrades reanimated, and she herself is a walking ghost, but this is... different.

Erinys blinks back down at her hands. “It’s for my husband.” She folds the gold thread over the purple and then the green, nodding as the other speaks again.

“You as well. My name is Erinys.” Her eyes flicker upwards again and, for the second time, the knight scolds herself for wishing to call the girl Ayra. “You are welcome to sit as well, if you’d like. I wouldn’t much mind the company.”

[heavenlyknight]

Lumenhearted

silesseti​:

Duke Maxifeld has received a letter detailing the planned heist of his family’s priceless heirloom - a weapon said to take on many an alternate form - during his upcoming annual ball. The Knights of Seiros have assigned you and your partner to attend undercover and find the wannabe thief before they act. The event is strictly for couples only. Better make your act convincing! [Grants Any Weapon +1]

Hundreds of feet move with the rhythm of these decorated halls, swirling about like particles of dust in a brewing storm. They move and step, in tandem, in sync. Nothing can stop them save for the transition between songs, and even then, that is only momentary. It is the very picture of bliss. Gold and light shimmer as far as the eye can see–across the walls, on the faces of cheerful women, in the sweet melody wafting through the air. 

They’re all so hopelessly unaware of the tragedy that might befall them. As Lewyn stands in their midst–having easily gotten past the bouncer on account of being the husband of his partner–he cracks a smile. They’re like snow, he thinks, a blanket of happy faces covering what lurks beneath. Just like back home. He feels, then, that the job will be an easy one. Being a man of half-truths himself, Lewyn knows he can tell a fake apart from the true commonfolk. 

He turns to Erinys, placing his hand in hers. Tonight, it is a decorated hand, sprayed generously with a fancy scent and sporting a smart cuff at its wrist. That cuff then trails into the rest of his suit, which is colored midnight-black but contains a floral pattern one can only see if they look close enough. His pants and shoes are of a similar design, but for good purpose. He’s meant to look ordinary. Any flashy clothing or weird accessories would put those would-be thieves on high alert around him. The better he can blend in with everyone else, the easier a time he’ll have tonight. 

“What do you think?” he jests, eye motioning to all the glitz and glamor surrounding them, “Not a bad venue for a date. The food and music are pretty damn good, and I hear the drinks are better.” Something between a hum and a chuckle sounds from his lips, the prince perhaps helping himself to a little too much fun. On the outside, he doesn’t look at all concerned with the shadowy plot about to unfold from under them. His eye remains trained on her, his other hand finding Erinys’ so they can begin dancing. As if on cue, the bards begin their next number: a quick waltz. It’s as charming as it is energizing; a perfect way to start the night. 

“I hope that dress wasn’t a rental, by the way. You look great in it. It’d be a shame to let such beauty go to waste.” Did he mention that he loves his wife? Because he does. And tonight, though the stars remain ever-fixed in the sky, he can see them shining in Erinys’ eyes. It’s fun to dress up and pretend their lives are normal ever once in a while, even if reality is always quick to splash them in the face with its cold reminder. 

But before he can get another word out, the music starts to pick up. People around them have already begun to turn and twist to the beat, leaving the pair of Silessians looking like the odd ones out. With their hands clasped together in holy matrimony, he leads them on. Life on the run has taught him to be pretty good at this thing, what with the Agustrian courts always providing a decent space to practice and all. So Lewyn does not fumble as he moves, does not step on any toes, does not miss a turn. He’s elegant yet easy to follow, like a strong tailwind, always bringing out the best in his peers. 

She hasn’t donned a dress like this in quite some time.

Layers of earthy green chiffon flow around her legs as their way is made through the room. It is unlike anything she would have found back home, but that hardly matters. The last time Erinys had been made to feel like this in a gown had been her wedding.

At Lewyn’s side and dressed in such a way, she could easily tell herself that they were the proper King and Queen of Silesse. A little fairytale in her mind, straightening her spine and making jade eyes glitter dreamily. 

And yet in that same vein, the part of her that has learned how to peer past childish whims revels in the fact that they aren’t king or queen, or even prince and knight. They are as her husband had so longingly sought after all of those years ago; normal. 

“It’s been so long since I have seen a proper ball,” she muses. His laughter and carefree attitude, the exact one that she could somehow find both absurdly charming and miserably infuriating, is something far closer to infectious tonight. Erinys hums her amusement in return. “We do have a job to get done,” she reminds, a lighthearted kind of scolding. “You can inspect the drinks after.”

The music changes and she is swept up into Lewyn’s lead. It’s fortunate that she has a partner like him who moves with an ease that she simply has no choice but to be carried by. Dancing had never been her strong suit, all of the grace in her family line seemingly having been crammed into her elder sister, but she knows well enough now how not to look a total fool.

And it helps to have a partner like hers -- a performer, meant to be the one of them that draws the eye.

His flattery warms her cheeks. It would have flustered her into a stammering mess only so many years ago, and it nearly still does, but her focus on not stumbling over him proves to be her saving grace. “It isn’t,” she manages, which she finds herself suddenly glad for. Anything that makes Lewyn look at her like that is well worth keeping.

Music shifts again, tempo quickening in a way that would make Erinys stumble were she alone. Instead, it is as though nothing at all changes. They continue to move, Erinys’ skirts flowing with every turn. It’s mesmerizing -- they blend right back in to the flow of dancers and, for a moment, the rest of the ballroom feels a million miles away.

Only for a moment, though. Duty weighs heavier than the stars in the knight’s eyes, and so she tears her gaze from her husband’s and forces it to skim over the crowd instead.

“We don’t have anything on appearance, do we?” They are close enough that she trusts her low tone will be heard. “Just... people who have ill intentions?” Thought draws her brows together and her lips into a frown. “...everyone here looks normal to me.”

[heavenlyknight]

blanket to a knife fight ༊*·˚

heartoftheloathsome​:

Hubert freezes in his tracks. Some haggard finger is pointed at his face, and it offends him for an inexplicable reason. His face contorts into a grimace as this old man screeches babble at him, each word reaching him like an individualized arrow carved to perfectly pierce Hubert’s nerves.

“You look like a frightening opponent! So, for you…” The man’s eyes flit around his surroundings. He bends down to reach for something with vigor—Hubert’s gaze only hardens in further confusion. And then in a flash, as if out of thin air, a huge object flies right into Hubert’s arms, and he catches it before he can even process what exactly it is.

“How cozy!” 

Hubert peers down at the giant heap of fabric in his arms. It’s heavy, colorful, and annoyingly soft for having been so rudely thrown at him without his consent. It’s a quilt, and it is unwieldy and gaudy and absurd in its existence. In every other patchy square, there is some sort of simple scene sewn on, with little humans and horses and pegasi alike doing miscellaneous things. It’s oddly wholesome, but Hubert’s heart doesn’t have room for cutesy patchwork. Hubert turns the thing around in his arms, examining it with scrutiny and narrowing his eyes as if the quilt itself was like some searing, blinding sight. 

“Are you so confounded?” The old man giggles. “My wife made that blanket for me. You’d better not ruin it!”

Hubert looks up. “Pardon me, ruin? I… I’m sorry—I have to ask why you’ve even thrown this ludicrous think at me in the first place,” he retorts with a biting snark.

“Why, have you no ears, or eyes? You are dueling this fine young lady with that blanket as your weapon!” The man turns around, gesturing towards a sweet, female knight clad in green. She appears just as nonplussed by this whole thing as Hubert, he observes as the two of them lock eyes.

Hubert admits, he just needed to pass through this courtyard. He sighs angrily, and it is a grating and cathartic thing that prepares his body for the inevitable. He might as well get in some good training while he’s here—he sure as hell doesn’t feel like maneuvering his way out of this. Theatrical old men such as this one here who has orchestrated this whole thing are some of the most stubborn people, Hubert has learned.

Hubert steps forth towards the girl. He acquiesces to his fate, extending a hand in an out-of-place but warm congeniality. But he soon regrets doing so, because the quilt nearly spills out of his other arm without the all-out support of both limbs. Is his dueling mate here truly going to be the enemy, or will it be this goddamned bedspread?

“My name is Hubert. I wish I had gotten to know you prior to this… embarrassing ordeal, but… I guess we shall duel,” he says with heavy reluctance. Despite that, he smiles. The girl’s friendly carriage comforts him, and he’s glad that he’s been matched with a modest girl like her. Hubert eyes her flimsy fishing rod; well, this will be a fascinating fight, won’t it?

She winces as the blanket nearly falls, taking his offered greeting despite it. “I am Erinys,” her chin dips, hand retracting now so that it may settle beside its mirror upon her... weapon.

At least it’s more straightforward of a thing to use than his.

“...it is my honor to face you,” but there’s something to her voice that is just a little forced, trying to remain sincere and honorable despite how laughable of a scene this is.

Decidedly fed up with their lack of bloodshed, the man between them claps his hands together. “Right then! Now, our contestants shall take position and -!”

Erinys steps back a pace, settling her weight and raising her weapon. It certainly makes for a shoddy lance -- its weight wildly unbalanced even disregarding the fact that it looks as though a stiff wind might snap it in half.

“FIGHT!!”

With something of a resigned sigh, she charges forward. Fighting without the aid of a mount is otherworldly enough with a proper weapon, and knight realizes all of two steps in that she has overestimated how much force for which her blow called. Boots skid in the dirt as she just barely saves herself from meeting the ground. 

Air sucks in through her teeth, blood rushing to her face. Embarrassing. 

[heavenlyknight]

dance in the skies ༊*·˚

heavenlywinds​:

“you have the right of it.” she nods, eyes shutting close for a second and something of a nostalgic smile tugging at her lips as she thinks to their reunion on the forest. “… i think the sylphs brought us together again, but that’s not something i can be too sure about.”

the thoughts about their reunion end abruptly with the way erinys describes lewyn. she covers her mouth with her hand, trying not to laugh. poor prince lewyn, to be talked about like that by his own wife. “the way he was back then.. is certainly a way to put it.” a laugh still escapes from behind her hand.

but she quiets at the mention of them even having a family— of the mark that she had left on silesse, no on the world, even in death. her throat croaks with the echo of a sob and annand stares down at her sister with her mask of confidence and bright grins off for only a moment.

a blink and you miss it sort of thing.

queen lahna had made annand feel just like this. queen lahna who is so easily able to take that mask away from her— to see the cracks of honest emotions beneath it. the only desires she ever had was to be loved and to protect those who loved her. first queen lahna and now these two…

she laughs again, holding back the part of her that wants to cry like a child. “i’m glad that i was able to bring you two together and—” her laugh falls to a gentle smile. “i’m glad that i was able to become a strength for the royal family. if it’s possible i’d like to meet the both of them. not just fee, but your son as well.” she tilts her head gently to the side. “i’m sure they would appreciate some life advice from their aunt annand, don’t you think?”

For her sister’s sake, Erinys does not squint too hard at her reaction. It isn’t her place to search for emotions where Annand does not wish for them to be seen, but she knows it is not as simple as the crystal laugh that leaves her.

“I think they would, yes.” Her smile strains, now, faltering just so. It seems every conversation is a reminder of some old and unhealed scar -- a twist of a forgotten knife. 

“I miss them.” And suddenly her voice feels impossibly small, the words catching in a suddenly dry throat. She had used to cry in front of Annand often, always over childish things, but it has been years now since last she had done that.

Erinys swallows, forcing her tone to stay even. “I don’t know what became of them. I... I left in search of Lewyn and I thought I would have been back, but...”

Her arm raises in a vague, defeated gesture. Eyes shut and she breathes a heavy sigh. “So your advice is likely far more worth listening to than my own.”

It always has been.

[heavenlyknight]

@laslow​ asked  ༊*·˚  

[ JELLYBEAN ]

The little candies click together in their cloth bag. His own bag is alarmingly half empty, jelly still clinging to his molars, leaving behind the overly sweet taste of cherries every time he swallows.

"Oh! Hey! Hold a moment, would you?"

Laslow approaches, holding aloft the candy bag. "I think we got off on the wrong foot, no? Please accept my humble apologies; I hadn't the slightest clue you were married."

(He made sure to purchase only the "normal" flavored beans and save the disgusting ones as a prank for his friends.)

“...hm?”

Erinys glances up, brows furrowing for a quick moment before recognition hits. This guy again. 

“Oh, please don’t worry yourself. It’s no big deal...” Now her confused gaze shifts, landing on the unlabeled bag of jellybeans. She had investigated them herself, of course, and elected to buy none for herself upon watching a helpless victim taste a particularly nasty one.

And she is really in no mood to be pranked. ‘Ol gullible Erinys is no longer. (Mostly.)

“...and, um, no thank you.” 

[heavenlyknight]

@nabataprophet​ asked  ༊*·˚  

[ SHOW OFF ] You, of course, are a brave soul, keen of eye, and have some people to impress. Friends? Crushes? Rivals? You scoff at the mere idea that someone could scare you with some cheap parlor trick and roam about the hallways with crossed arms and plenty of skepticism. 

 There's no way around it. Sophia has gotten herself well and truly lost in the haunted corridors. They probably should have sent in someone after her when she did not exit as intended, but it's a busy night, after all. There's no time to worry about a single girl getting lost. It probably doesn't help that she isn't screaming, either, which would give the club members an idea of where she was.

Rather, she wanders the hallways watching everything with mild interest. The Magic Club must be talented indeed if they can conjure up apparitions like this. She's no stranger to the macabre, being a dark magic user herself, but her magic isn't anywhere near this level yet. Raigh would probably be impressed, too, she thinks to herself absentmindedly, passing by a skeleton for the fifth time. Maybe she'll try sending him a letter later about the magic here.

Her skirt gets caught on the various props littering the ground and she trips a few times, sending stray strands of hair over her face. It's not bad enough to need to push out of her face to see, so she leaves it as it is, unaware of how much it makes her look like one of the monsters in the dark.

At the sound of footsteps that differ from the footsteps following the same paths that she had become accustomed to, Sophia calls out, "...Hello...?"

Cautious knight steps through decorated halls, ducking to avoid a fake cobweb and then stumbling to the left when something creaks eerily on your opposite flank.

Thank all that is holy for the fact that she had entered alone. As much as it sucks (and it really, really does) no one is here to laugh at silly little Erinys for being startled halfway to tears by some well placed candles and poorly costumed volunteers.

Some queen of Silesse, really, but try as she might to reassure herself that this is all fake and nothing can hurt her, Erinys is still very on edge.

And she has nearly relaxed herself, breathing carefully through her nose and clutching her hands to her chest, when a voice whips her head backwards.

Backlit by the halls and framed by an already unsettling array of decor, the figure before her looks less like a student and far more like some terrifying witch, perhaps a reanimated corpse. (In reality it really isn’t all that bad, but the imagination does as the imagination chooses and, well--)

Erinys turns back around as fast as possible, stumbling forward with a racing heart. She does not stop until she has reached the exit, greeted once more by pale moonlight and the joyous chatter of the rest of the festival.

Knight sighs, slumping to catch her breath. Never again. 

[heavenlyknight]

@silesseti​ asked  ༊*·˚

[ SECRET ] While the festival is supposed to be family-friendly, and indeed more children than usual run through the streets, you catch wind of a tavern in some forgotten alley of the town where one can go for some “adult” entertainment. Like wine tasting. Just wine tasting. (don’t tell the clergy).

A drink slides across the bar, arriving at Erinys seat. The bartender, knowing she will look up at him with confusion, gestures his head at  a man sitting across from her. "From him," he gruffly states, before turning to serve another customer.

It's Lewyn.

She isn’t here for the wine, really. It’s just an excuse to get a breath away from the heat of all of the fires and crowds of people. So when a glass finds itself before her, it’s only natural that Erinys startles.

And when the bartender tips his head in the direction of her admirer, she can’t help the soft laugh that shakes her shoulders.

Right hand raises for the bartender’s attention once more. “If you would be so kind,” she’s fighting to keep away the smile that creeps up on her lips, “please do tell him that I am a married woman.”

[heavenlyknight]

@damegalantea​ asked  ༊*·˚

[ LIONS SOUP ] Blue Lions: White fish, leeks, potatoes, heavy cream, keeps you nice and warm.

“P-pardon me, milady,” Ingrid greets with a small, brave smile on her face. This is this the second time Ingrid has met up with the foreign knight and unlike the first Ingrid is wearing an apron, she is prepared.

“Would you have a taste? I fear I may have unintentionally given you a terrible impression of Fódlan cuisine earlier, and well, I used to eat this growing up during bouts of cold. I can attest that it will give you strength moving forward!”

She had asked to be put on stall duty just so she might make sure the stew was as she remembered. Ingrid may not have been a creative cook (perhaps a good things considering her preferences), but she knew how to follow a recipe. She was confident in this.

“Oh, you of course do not have to finish it,” she said, holding out a bowl, “I merely wished to hear your opinion.”

It’s hardly a gesture she expects, watching the student’s approach with brows raised and interest in her eyes. “Oh, no, you did no such th-”

Erinys’ reassurance is cut off as the other continues to speak and attention is redirected towards the offered stew before she can remember where she had left off. The bowl is accepted with an appreciative nod, and a spoonful is brought to her lips.

Jade eyes light up with surprise. Not that she had expected it to be bad, but Erinys had hardly expected to enjoy it this much. “Did you make this yourself? It’s wonderful...”

Another bite, as though to drive the point home, and a dip of her chin as she swallows. “Thank you.”

[heavenlyknight]

Midsommar 2022 : Prompts and Memes Part 2

In for a treat, or just getting tricked?

[ COSTUME ] Forgot your demon costume? Vendors have set up stalls in town offering all sorts of accessories to get customers in the Midsommar spirit. Pointed wax teeth are subtle but expensive, but you don’t need a heavy purse to rent out a glittering cape or a fancy hat. With the damage fines this high, you better be careful not to get them dirty!

[ FORTUNE ] An old witch sits in the shadows of the alley, claiming that she can speak to the dead. She beckons all who pass by to visit her.

[ PERFORMANCE ] This is a festival for street performers! Everywhere you go in Garreg Mach, you’re bound to find some sort of show - from puppet theater to firebreathing and tests of strength and skill. Stop to marvel at Fódlan’s talent, or maybe try showing off your own!

[ SCARE ] Many of the children that run past you are dressed in strange costumes, pretending to be all sorts of characters. Witches, animals, scarecrows… even some of your classmates are showing off sharp false teeth and glittering capes. Costumes like these are part of the festival spirit this time of year!

[ SECRET ] While the festival is supposed to be family-friendly, and indeed more children than usual run through the streets, you catch wind of a tavern in some forgotten alley of the town where one can go for some “adult” entertainment. Like wine tasting. Just wine tasting. (don’t tell the clergy).

[ CARVING ] With the spring harvest comes an abundance of turnips. So many that merchants have brought them to Garreg Mach by the bushel to sell them for Midsommar. Once believed to ward demons and other monsters away if one carved a face into them, the turnip carving tradition is now little more than a fun activity for children to do with their parents.

Food stalls crowd the town square, visitors hawking sweet and savory snacks…

[ PIES ] Spiced meat pies or delicate strawberry pies? Pick one and dig in at this bustling pie stall! The owners have a special challenge, if you choose to accept: any brave soul that can scarf down twenty of these delicious pies will receive a very special prize! 

[ JELLYBEAN ] One particular stall catches your eye: piles of little bean-shaped gummies shine in the lantern’s light, all too colorful to ignore. Clover honey, strawberry, peaches… With so many choices, you can’t help but take your time looking over the vendor’s selection. Strangely, he nods and gives you a knowing look. “Ah, I see. We have the same… interests, do we?” From below the table, the vendor pulls out a heavy wooden box, opening it to reveal an array of jellybeans. While they are as colorful and delectable as the ones on the table, their labels are more than a little troubling. Sweaty socks? Essence of skunk? “Excellent for tricks… though you didn’t get these from me.”

The return of the Magic Club’s special haunted corridors!

[ SHOW OFF ] You, of course, are a brave soul, keen of eye, and have some people to impress. Friends? Crushes? Rivals? You scoff at the mere idea that someone could scare you with some cheap parlor trick and roam about the hallways with crossed arms and plenty of skepticism.

[ SCREAM ] All your friends are gone–dead, probably, when you remember their terrified screams as they thrashed against the firm grip of a bloody butcher with a rabbit mask. You also remember the way the cleaver glinted in the cold light. Your feet pound against the tile as you flee from your pursuer, the butcher’s twin with a chicken’s face and an even bigger knife. You trip, fall, get back up again. You trip, fall–why the hell are you falling so much? A “corpse” springs to life in front of your path, but a solid punch sends them reeling. You don’t look back. All you can do is scream, and run.