jehannanmage

[jehannanmage]

hitting rock bottom

helleonne​:

   “ Good to see you listen to reason quickly enough, ”  Raigh huffs, glad to skip any phase where he might have to explain his suspicions. The situation was irritating enough without having to deal with an annoying, naïve optimist the whole time too.

He considers Ewan’s suggestion seriously, but it only takes a few moments before he pulls a disgruntled face.

“ If we must. Pah… We’ll be here just as long. ”  Plus the future annoyance of someone complaining about how the well’s structure was completely ruined. Raigh wields his own spade, looking up at their downward tunnel and trying to surmise the best way to get around things…

“ Hey. I’m not saying this cause I’m interested in getting to know you, but do you know any magic? ”

“Hmm... You’re right.” It would take an awful long time, and there has to be a faster, better way. Arms cross over his chest as he too continues to ponder at their dilemma. They could maybe... Eh, not really. Or perhaps they could...! Nah. Nahhh...

When next Raigh deigns address him, Ewan scoffs - for two reasons at once. The first reason? “The preamble really isn’t necessary...?” The Jehannan tsks in annoyance. Whatever. The second reason? He rolls his eyes. “’Do I know any magic,’ he asks. Hah! Do I know any magic!”

He cackles, in his Ewan way finding some levity despite the situation. “Boyo, I live magic. Dark and fire are my specialties, but I’ve been known to dabble... Why? Whatcha have in mind? All ears.”

[jehannanmage]

Scarcely a day has passed since they have both come to reside at Garreg Mach again before Maria raps her knuckles upon Ewan's door, two little gift bags pinned between her fingers and her palms; even less time passes between Ewan opening the door and her dropping them abruptly and very ceremoniously into his hands.

"Happy late birthday, Ewan!" -is what she says before the boy has even had time to blink, brightly beaming as she threaded her fingers in anticipation. "I didn't have time to make these before I left, but I made sure to finish them as soon as I got back!"

Clasped hands rise until her chin can rest upon their knuckles, eyes sparkling as she explains. "I really liked the present you gave me last time, so I tried to make something just as nice! They're a little less lucky, but--" She laughs a merry little laugh. "--they're a lot more edible, hee hee!

"And that one," she continues, pointing toward the smaller bag, "I made based on something I saw while I was away! Hats!" Her grin widens. "For bananas! Isn't that funny? Hee hee, but they really fit! I made a few different designs; one of them even looks like Goose! I hope you like it!"

Magvel had proven ultimately uneventful, in the end. Ewan wasn't sure whether to lament or bask in it - Garreg Mach always felt busy, with nigh never a dull moment... not to mention the danger, like the almost dying time and again stuff. A routine sweep through his old stomping grounds felt boring by comparison.

And speaking of danger, it had felt unfair that his friends were walking right into it while he was out here. The only thing he had to look forward to, really, were letters, and seeing their faces again when he got back, and, oh, couldn't forget! He definitely was looking forward to pestering Innes again on the return trip back to Fodlan. Definitely couldn't forget that. * * *

Being back at Garreg Mach is nice. Not quite akin to being home but maybe another home away from home, like Caer Pelyn was and is... Yeah. The monastery could be that.

He opens his door, startled to hear someone come calling so soon. Who is it? Of all his friends - and he feels ever so blessed to have them - he can't quite pin which it might be (he feels blessed for that, too), but when he looks to see who it is, well,

first, he registers that his hands are full with something now, and then second, he glances upward, but he doesn't need to look to know. Her voice, same as her smile, is sunshine and softness and everything good in the world. "Maria! Thank you." Ewan beams in return, before excitedly switching into investigation mode. What has he got here...?

He opens the left, first, as she explains. Stars...! And edible, she says... He wastes no time popping one into his mouth and fishing another out, offering it back to her. "Plenty lucky when shared, I'd stake my life on it," he asserts with a delighted grin. Then, he ties it back up and tucks it away so as to better focus on the second bag.

He's puzzled a moment. It fits atop his fingers if he pinches them together. But as Maria goes on and realization dawns over his, Ewan's gaze brightens, mirth and a curious sort of wild energy creeping into his features. He barks a laugh, then, and another, beyond amused and delighted with the offering.

"HAH! Hahaha-- oh my stars, Maria, I love them! These are the best thing I've ever seen. Hats! For bananas!" Who ever thought of such a thing? Ewan almost feels regret he wasn't the first to come up with such a fabulous idea.

(She doesn't need to know he still thinks Gooseberry was kind of an asshole. If anything, maybe Goose's memory etched into banana hat form will soften Ewan's opinion of the surly bird over time. One can but hope.)

"I love these a lot," he says, and jumps over for a tight hug. "Thanks Maria!!"

Ah. It's good to be back.

[jehannanmage]

strings of fate

flowerofgoneril​:

“Ewaaaaan!” Hilda whines and stomps her foot as he darts back toward the tree. She can’t see his face but she can just imagine the impish grin he’s surely sprouting. It’s infuriating. And adorable.

She watches, stunned, as he scales the damn tree. He doesn’t actually think she’s going to climb up there, does he? He knows she’s Hilda, right? With a shake of her head and a roll of her eyes, she casually strolls up right underneath the branch he’s perched on. With an oh so innocent smile, Hilda very sweetly responds, “I guess you’d better find some way down then. For your poor, lonely lips.”

Fuck, he’s cute. He knows it too. It’s an extremely dangerous combination that’s she’s also mastered how to fully use to her advantage. There’s no way she’s about to let herself fall victim to a handsome face. A handsome face that wants her to…No!

“See my dress? It’s cute, right?” Hilda gives a little twirl, making sure keep her eyes locked with his. “I bought it extra special so I could match the tree. It’s so delicate, I just know it’ll rip if you make me climb that big old trunk! I’d just be heartbroken! Guess you better come back down, huh?”

She doesn’t take the bait. He pouts miserably, playing with a leaf overhead as he listens and considers his next plan of action. With a sigh, Ewan sits upright and ties the ribbon to the tree. Just ‘cause her wish has already been granted, doesn’t mean she can’t make an offering in good faith, yeah? Satisfied with the cute little bow he’d managed, he slid from his branch onto the next and scarpered his way back down.

He clears his throat.

“This is only ‘cause I wouldn’t wanna leave you heartbroken,” he says, all too dramatically. “And you’re right, your dress is damn cute. It’d be sad to muss it up.” That said... “But, I promise,”

he leans in then for another kiss. Upon pulling back, he continues: “I will get you up a tree one day. For a fact. It’s fun! You’ll see. I’ll show you lots of fun stuff.”

All in due time - and time, for now, would be on their side. He’d see to it.

[jehannanmage]

joie de vivre

It’s been a couple of weeks in the making, but a lull in schoolwork has finally made this possible. Some of the students choose to tackle last year’s events with light-hearted humor, resulting in Garreg Mach’s first ever “Glad-To-Be-Alive” party! When you arrive in the classroom it’s hosted in, you see a cozy little get-together with handmade decorations and the smell of dinner in the air. After saying what you are thankful for, everyone is to feast on a whole (small) roasted chicken, something that the students claim is their new Officers Academy tradition.

He was still alive, and thus, life was good. No one knew, not really, what it held yet on the horizon for them all, but if these past two years, rewound and lived anew, were to be of indication...

Well, certainly it’d not be anything approaching dull.

The church’s hidden foe, those strange specters operating in the shadows, were never far from his mind now. They were dangerous. Had threatened - and followed through on - lethal force in the past. But when folks wanted to make merry, certainly Ewan would never be the one to stop them.

Raising his glass of definitely-not-alcohol, most-certainly-school-appropriate drink in cheers with his fellows, the Jehannan grinned and laughed alongside his peers. He’d be hard pressed not to enjoy himself at such an event! So, then,

why did it feel like someone was burning a hole at the base of his neck?

Peering over the edge of his drink, Ewan glanced about the room, none too surreptitiously. And his overt gaze earned him his prize: a better look at she who was unabashedly staring him down. With a quick word to his pals he excused himself, but doubted if he’d be missed - in all the chaos and sheer loudness of the surroundings, he’d be just fine to slip away.

“Why if it isn’t Lute!”

A fellow mage of the Renaitians royals’ company. He propped himself against the wall next to her, cheek leaned against his fist. “Are you not enjoying yourself? Seems like it’d be lonely all the way out here on your own.”

And why, oh why, had she been staring him down?

He’d get to that soon, if need be.

[starter for @prodigyofrenais ]

[jehannanmage]

He hums to himself as he works, to the tune of a chipper shanty picked up on Magvel’s shores. It’s not exactly the kind of work Ewan would prefer (he’s a mage for Stones’ sake, can’t he just blast a hole in the ground and be done with it?), but there is something vaguely relaxing about it. They’re sculpting art, here, in a manner of speaking. Creating a whole new well, shaping it with their tools in hand. . .

There’s a snap. It takes him a moment to get out of his own head but eventually, eventually he draws to attention. Owlishly, Ewan blinks at Raigh from over his shoulder, gaze drifting from the Eagle and then to the rope.

Ah.

“I should rather think that they would,” he counters, brows furrowing in thought. Resigned to abandonment so swiftly... What’s wrong with this kid? So young to be so jaded. (Okay, okay, they’re like scarcely two years apart Ewan’s guessing, if that, but that is besides the point!) Ewan clears his throat to speak, but brows furrow a touch more sharply as something catches his attention. Leaning his spade against the wall, he steps over and crouches down, picking up the tail end of the rope. A very clean cut. Not frayed in the slightest.

“... Then again, you may be onto something.” Scratching at the nape of his neck, he but shakes his head in wonder. Plans it is, then. “We could dig our way up?”

He hopes it’s not as stupid as it sounds like it might be, hearing the words come tumbling out of his mouth. Ahem. Whatever. Not like Raigh’s offered any bright ideas. . .

hitting rock bottom

Mission Task Board: The Garland Moon is supposed to be the start of the rainy season, but these recent hot days and rainless nights could have fooled you. A new well would let the villagers tap into a new reservoir of groundwater (not to mention you’re in dire need of their goodwill). In a few days, you all manage to get pretty far down. Your massive accomplishment turns into your worst nightmare, however, when your rope tethering you to the surface manages to untie itself. You’re left trapped in a well with no one, not even Lassie, to hear your cries for help. Are you strong enough to climb your way out of here? [Grants Heavy Armor +1]  // @jehannanmage

   Raigh hears the rope snap behind them, and that’s all that he needs to know things have taken a turn for the significantly worse. As if doing work digging a deep hole for a village he couldn’t care less about wasn’t enough.

But still, he humors the situation a bit and without a word to his working companion walks back the way they came to see how the rope tethering them up to the surface looks. Just as he expects, it’s all dropped down into a coil at the foot of their little hole here, and if looks could kill, Raigh’s glare at the accursed thing would have made the rope burst into flames by now.

“ Time to make plans on how to get out, cause the guys up there sure aren’t going to bother lifting a finger helping us. ”

[jehannanmage]

Instant Noodles: Do they eat any kinds of food in a different manner than it’s usually served?

[ ancient undertale meme ]

Oh, sure - it's Ewan, trust him to try and find some way of making even mealtime more 'fun' or 'exciting.' Foods that weren't meant to be finger food? They are now. Soup with a fork? Why not. Dinner pureed to death and eaten in a slurry? The height of efficiency. Probably. Maybe.

Okay, okay, so it's not an everyday thing, no, and he does eat like a regular, mostly-civilized individual most of the time.

It's just that Sometimes, if he's bored or feels like experimenting, or just wants to make people Talk, he'll spice things up. :)

[jehannanmage]

on the bright side

keen-kin​:

Larcei glanced to where Ewan looked, seeing nothing and receiving a whack for her efforts. Gods, his attack hadn’t been gentle either. 

“Hey! That’s unfair!” She hated to say it, but she’d been tricked. Such an obvious ruse too, how could she not be a little annoyed? She was used to fighting opponents head on, not these dastardly tactics. 

Well, Ewan wasn’t the only person with tricks up his sleeve… Larcei tried to form a plan in her mind of how she could make her next attack. Something cool, something impressive. Then it hit her! (an idea, not an umbrella). 

In theory, it was a great idea! She’d start to swing, holding the umbrella in her right hand. Then, when he was trying to block her attack, she’d quickly throw it to her left hand, and hit him where he least expected! 

In practice… 

> Roll: 3!

She threw the blade, but struggled to catch it, the sword slipping out of her hand. By the time she had control, Ewan had caught on to her attempted feint, and completely dodged everything. Damn. 

“Slippery.” She commented, making an attempt to justify her failed attempt. “You ever tried sword-fighting with your worst hand?” It could be a fun challenge, if you didn’t drop your blade instantly.

Bwahaha-- it worked! It really worked! Ewan hadn’t been expecting it to, not by a long shot.

“Unfair? I’m not a swordsman, nor a knight.” For good measure, he stuck out his tongue. He was just a wiry little mage who occasionally took to scrapping with his fists instead where the situation called for it. Weapons did not typically figure in his arsenal. Besiiiides, maybe this way, she wouldn’t fall for it if someone who did mean her harm happened to try it out.

(... Honestly he was still surprised and over the moon that it actually Worked, hahahaha!~) But geez, swordsmen really didn’t like these kinds of tricks, huh? With a sheepish chuckle and a casual wave of his umbrella, he shrugged. “Sorryy, sorryyy~”

Stones forbid she should think him patronizing her when he was, at the least in part, being truthful in his apology. To his delight, she seemed yet undeterred. He half fancied he could see the cloud of thoughts whirring about in her head (he could recognize it in himself if he so much as crossed a mirror on any given day) and grinned. She was up to something.

Something that wound up failing spectacularly, but he had to give her props regardless. “That,” he commented, safely out of harm’s way, “would have been SO COOL if you pulled it off...” Needless to say, however, he’d be keeping a close eye on any repeated attempts.

“Larcei, I don’t even know which hand is my good hand when it comes to swordplay,” he said, and crowed in amusement. All the same, he switched hands. “But I’m game to give it a shot, either way.”

(Roll: 17)

He struck fast, nowhere near as awkward as one might have expected for a sudden switch in hand.

[jehannanmage]

strings of fate

flowerofgoneril​:

She misses him when he breaks from her to tie his ribbon to the tree. It’s ridiculous. He’s right there. With just a few steps she could be at his side again but she still misses him.

At least he doesn’t leave her waiting too long. The distance between them is closed once more but this time he is the one to initiate. His fingers tilt her chin and her knees grow weak. She’s sure she’d collapse to the floor if he let go.

Lips meet and she wraps her arms around his neck. Hilda turns her head, encouraging him to deepen the kiss. This is really real. They’re really doing this. There are so many uncertainties. She doesn’t like uncertainties. Too many risks, too many opportunities to be the disappointment that she knows she is. But kissing him like this, knowing that he wants her, well, it’s easy to forget her insecurities.

Her hands tangle in the hair at the back of his neck and her ribbon falls from her fingers to the ground.

Well, since she’s encouraging him and all...

It’d certainly be remiss of Ewan not to take the hint. Awful cruel to leave a lady high and dry, left wanting. But while Ewan doesn’t think himself cruel, he does have the reputation of being a bit of a jokester, at times... And what’s the point of having a significant other - sacred stones, he has a significant other??? - if he can’t tease her a bit?

And so: the first time, he relents, leans in, determined to make the most of it given the plans he’s got concocting in that noggin’ of his. When they break apart, he considers a round two - or is that three now? who’s counting, really - but no. No... he must hold fast. He settles for a light kiss at the corner of her lips. Then, he stoops down to pick up her fallen ribbon and...

with an impish smile, prize in hand, he takes off for the tree and hup, one, two, three easy lifts and he’s clambered his way right up the magical tree of wishes. Up there, he stretches out on a branch, crafting his best impression of a cat.

“Help, I’m stuck and can’t get down! Whatever will I do up here, all alone? My lips ache in their loneliness...”

[jehannanmage]

Two Desert Mages Walk Into a Freezer || Merric & Ewan

windsheedme​:

Ewan’s humorous comment elicits a snort of held back laughter from Merric as he extracts the redhead from the trap he had gotten stuck in. He got something on fire in the process, but it’s fine. They’ll be fine. He’s seen, done and been through worse than a burning couch (?) inside the building he’s in.

They’ve got light and some warmth now thanks to that, and it’s unlikely someone actually wants to use that piece of furniture for its intended purpose ever again, so it’s a win in his book, at least for now.

Ewan gives climbing the stairs again another shot, more carefully this time; if something doesn’t work out the first time around, try again, that is a good rule to have in life both for learning magic and exploring abandoned places, as Merric supposes. But it does work out on the second attempt, and as the Jehannan waves to him, the Altean follows in his footsteps - literally, doing his best to take the same route as his friend and ensure he steps on more solid, stable places. And it works.

The first conclusion that pops up in the greenhead’s mind is that he is certainly happy he did not just falter and fall down into his own fire - that would not have been a great and honorable way for Prince Marth’s brother-in-law and right hand man to go. The second is that the upper floor is filled with papers of various kinds and physical conditions.

Ewan finds himself unable to decipher them, and Merric takes a closer look at the same bundle, squinting as he bends down. “I can’t make out whole sentences, but this is a magic script I’d seen somewhere. At least, I think.”

He grabs a couple pages that seem to be in a better and more readable state in order to try and see what he can make out.

“Assuming I’m right… I’ve only seen these runes a few times, but— snow… Great snow, um…” He frowns. “I can’t make out most of this, but great snow is on this page about ten or so times. Fly, great snow…” His finger moves across the page quickly as he attempts to catch any words he can translate. “Fly, freeze, freeze, great snow… That’s all I understand from this, but it kinda sounds like some sort of chant or spell.”

He winces as he drops the piece of paper, eyes darting around to see if, on the others, he spots any other words he understands. “I don’t know how normal this weather is to Faerghus, but the state of this village doesn’t feel natural, so this being enchanted sounds about right.”

Which is, probably, not a good thing.

Something else that is probably not a good thing is that the fire downstairs has grown in size juuuust a little bit…

Ewan, too, can’t help but find something oddly familiar about the texts strewn before them. Then again, many a magic-y piece of parchment have the odd tendency of looking decidedly similar, in his past experience. Even so, these are just off enough. Maybe he needs to redouble his studies.

(Not that there’s even time enough in the day for that but who’s counting.)

“So what I’m getting, from what you’re getting, is that the blizzard outside is likely no coincidence. Hmm.” It seems they are, on this point, in agreement. Neither of them are certain concerning the usual winters out in Faerghus, but that matters little - anyone can tell that this kind of weather is atypical. After all, no sane person, in Ewan’s estimation, would willingly submit themselves to this year after year. He shudders just thinking about it.

“You can’t make out anything in there about some kind of ‘Cancel’ command, can you?” Elbow in hand, fingers tapping at his chin, the Jehannan’s brows furrow in thought. “Or something about length of time, barring that, so’s we know what kind of overnighter we’re in for.”

That, and...

“Does something smell to you like it’s burning?”

His frown deepens.

“Something smells like it’s burning.” A statement. And as he casts his gaze down the stairs, he can but blink.

“Ah. I see.”

This was not the small, cute, warming fire they’d left behind.

Even still... “It’s probably just the couch smelling funky, there’s still lots of snow n’ ice around it,” he commentates as he quickly takes in the scene from above. “Should be fine.”

Famous last words.

[jehannanmage]

battle for the blame

pirrhyc​:

   “ Well, it's— ”  Pelleas’s attempt to respond to Ewan’s surprising reversal of his question dies out quickly, his voice too quiet that he’s not surprised when the mage is able to storm past that with his observations.

He’s right. Pelleas is not sick. Perhaps sick of heart, perhaps enough to be diagnosed by a doctor to be suffering from a temporary nervous depression and a slight hysterical tendency; even without the proper diagnosis though, he’s already given himself the treatment he knows would have come with that: extended rest-cure.

But it turns out that rest-cure cures nothing; it only makes the soul restless and the slight tendency even more hysterical. Left in a daze from his most recent episode, a daze so long it leaves him dumb still even now, Pelleas takes a few moments of delay before he registers Ewan’s words.  

“ A mission? What mission? Professor Byleth hadn’t told me I was to be assigned to any missions when she sent… ”  His words stop there. Just how long had he been wasting away now? When was the last time he had seen the professor? Had she tried to come to him and he was too lost in one of his dazes to have realized?  “ …What day is it today? ”

Lips thin when Pelleas’s reply dies before making it even halfway out. Does the man have no fire? Not like Ewan half ran over him or anything, no. But he’s got things to do, places to be, and people - including the moping mage before him - to worry about. He should be patient. He should have sympathy, or maybe even empathy given they both were in part responsible for--

nah. Nope.

Instead, there’s only a queer kind of frustration, an annoyance with the manner the other’s chosen to try and cope.

How was Ewan supposed to help, or to commiserate, if Pelleas was stuck in his room for the end of time?

Had Pelleas seen that Merric was all right, even?

Whatever had happened, it wasn’t their fault. They had been fighting for their lives, all of them. It was the ‘Garthans----

“It’s Th-urs-day,” Ewan notes, brow raised. “And I dunno bout Byleth but the Reason profs seemed to think you’d be a good enough fit for this. We have some educating to do. Come on. I’ll explain on the way.”

[jehannanmage]

mischief makers

prayerwitch​:

it perplexes sara just a little to see the way ewan gets hung up on topics, how even something as ordinary as breakfast - a pastime sara uses as an excuse to keep leif around longer in the mornings - might be discussed at length. he has no right looking dissatisfied by the truth. prior to living at the castle, she would have never thought to dine with others. it shouldn’t matter to ewan what foods she sooner reaches for in a spread nor when she takes her meals. yet somehow of all things she finds herself most bothered by the fact she doesn’t know what breakfasts in magvel are like (and if his sister prepares them for him), but fortunately sara needs not linger on the thought before a distraction presents itself.

the visions conjured by his story coax sara’s shoulders to bunch in a laugh that warms her whole being. few endeavors are so futile as to wring dampness from the waterlogged pages of a tome. it must be an experience universal of magehood, she thinks, reminiscing on a time where she had used this very knowledge to delay a scheduled visit from veld. with each tale ewan recounts, sara feels closer than before he’d started. she imagines herself as a co-conspirator in every escapade, beaming at him as she passes a frog between their hands and plunging into the depths of that lake at his side. however sara’s fantasy catches on one snag that is saleh. for the life of her, she cannot picture the face of a mentor that would respond to such antics with patience. only the somber expressions of the priests come to mind now.

then, he turns the question on her and the whip of sara’s head to attention rustles the surrounding branches.

“of course not,” she rebuffs, taken aback. leif is the only person sara knows that never has and never will be angry with her because she has never given him reason to be. leif understands her - or tries to - so the idea that she could make him mad seems inconceivable. if anything, ewan should be concerned about himself. this saleh may not even like him that much if he has been disappointed him before. leif isn’t like that at all. her voice grows solemn, quieter when she avers, “he isn’t like that.”

lavender tresses form an impenetrable curtain as she rocks forward and carefully makes her way over to him. “we’re still playing right? give me your hand. that’s a dare.” sara proceeds to stare at him innocently, tense mood having come and gone with the breeze. to dispel any misgivings, she exposes her palm to him to explain, “you learn a lot about someone from their hands. do you trust me?”

it’s her laughter spurs him onward. in Ewan fashion, he’s animated, but if it seems he takes extra delight and enthusiasm in his storytelling this go around, well... he’d not soon deny it. in reliving the past, he enjoys the now - and enjoys Sara’s smile very much.

he’s always gotten the impression that when she smiles like that, she means it.

and when her head whips about to face him, eyes searching for whatever poor soul might have dared utter such blasphemy (surely not Ewan, no), he greets her stare with a wide grin. it only falters when he notices his taunt’s fallen somewhat flat.

“Of course not,” he echoes, although despite himself the corners of his mouth are yet tilted upward in some small amusement; he’s never been one prone to feeling overly guilty for some harmless teasing. and then,

soon replacing it, instead, is a mien of curiosity, head canted to the side as she journeys over. “We are, yeah,” he answers carefully, even though he himself had forgotten but two and a half moments ago upon firing Sara’s question back at her. whoops. “My hand?”

he stares down at it a fleeting moment, as though glimpsing his palm before handing it over will assure it comes back looking the same way. doesn’t really matter to him, either way.

“If you trust me,” he answers, brows waggling only half in jest. “And so,” he continues, turning his hand upward, setting his palm in hers. “What does Miss Sara see?”

[jehannanmage]

to my new friend

keen-kin​:

She’d noticed the letter in the morning, but didn’t have time to read it before class started. What she did have time for however, was trying out the goop. She didn’t know what to expect when she opened the box, but it was so damn satisfying to play with! And strangely enough, she found herself able to concentrate, without being distracted, or staring out of the window too much. She even resisted the temptation to take a peek at the note during class. Success! 

At lunchtime she was finally able to read the note, there was a lot for Larcei to take in. First, they were practically the same age. Not that she’d imagined him being older but it made her wonder. He was probably a student too, meaning they’d likely met outside of these letters. Maybe if she sat down with a class roster, she’d be able to figure out his identity, but no one came to mind when she just thought over her classmates. 

They got on so well, yet without these letters they may never have figured it out. Huh. 

Second, before coming to this academy, she never imagined she’d be friends with a dark mage. In Jugdral they did have a bad rap, as he put it. Yet the way he spoke about it, she was more than willing to open her mind to it. His passion was clear, and he clearly understood the theory. Swords were way easier to understand, just swoosh swoosh and she was fighting on pure instinct. 

I’m gonna be honest, I really don’t get magic at all. But I feel like I could listen to you talk about it all day. I can’t remember if I ever mentioned it, but I like collecting enchanted items. You know how merchants sometimes sell those evasion rings and stuff? I have no clue how they work, but I love them. Maybe you could explain those sometime. 

And oh right! The gift! 

Oh, and is this goop enchanted? Because damn, it’s so much fun! Thanks for giving it to me, wish I had something cool to give to you. I was messing around with it in class earlier, and I found it way easier to focus on the lecture. Is there some kinda spell on it? 

Between this letter and the last, she could really feel how great their sibling relationship was. Honestly, it felt more similar to Larcei’s admiration of Shannan than her relationship with Scathach. Maybe it was the age difference. 

I’m glad you get on so well with your sister. Dancers are really cool. 

Honestly, Larcei couldn’t think of much else to say today. She was more focused on the final question… 

Now, Larcei loved these letters, and wouldn’t want to lose such a great penpal either… but there was only so much space on parchment, and these conversations would be far quicker in person, so… 

I’d like to meet up in person. It’s a Monday when I’m writing this, going by the Fodlan calendar. On Wednesday, I’ll wait under this tree in the break between afternoon class and dinner being served. If you wanna meet up, I’ll see you there.

Hopefully he’d find and read the letter in time. 

She put her letter (maybe the last one) in the tree, and made a mental note to visit again in two days. She wouldn’t miss this for the world.

That’s good, because I could talk about it all day.

Another line scratched out. Brows furrowed as he tried his darndest to come up with a line that sounded right. Wasn’t like he’d ever really been fussed about getting it wrong, per se, but it’d been some time now and Ewan had not managed a single word on paper he’d not felt the sudden irrepressible urge to strike from the page.

In truth, it felt like some kind of hex was working against him. Maybe Proffy Henry would know. . . but in the meantime, Ewan was left staring at the blank parchment and the rain-sopped letter sat next to it. He could make most of it out, he thought. His friend had liked the goop! A real hit. Not like there was much fancy to it, mind - no spells or enchantments save the power of the mind and a lil salt and flour, and a bit of this and that. . .

Regardless, that they appreciated the gift was gift enough in itself.

“Hmm...”

Quill tapping dots on parchment, Ewan’s frown grew deeper, his apprehension more pronounced. There was a piece, at the bottom of the parchment, where he could sworn... there definitely had been something else to the letter.

But what?

Rather, it was a miracle he’d gotten his hands on it at all, what with yesterday’s sudden wicked storm, and detention the day before. Ughhh... if only he’d been sooner...

Clearing his throat, he nodded to himself, a curt, determined gesture. He was gonna write this damn letter!

But in the end, it mattered not what he wrote. Perhaps there had been something more to the nature of the ‘Game’ everyone had been playing with their mysterious pen pals. . . What had the main rule been? Ah, yes --

that one’s partner needs must remain a mystery.

Any and every subsequent attempt at meeting would be met with the same fate - letters lost or damaged. How curious! How strange!

They would meet one day, however.

Just not today.

-fin!

[jehannanmage]

battle for the blame

pirrhyc​:

   The knock on his door breaks Pelleas out of his dissociative state, and he wonders if he’s imagined the noise. Was he lonely, creating someone who was visiting him? He looks at the piece of parchment he had been writing on earlier, before his thoughts had taken him to become lost, and he touches a finger to it.

It’s dry, but more than that, he vaguely remembers writing this. So he’s still a wreck. This is still the same world he had chosen to hide away from rather than participate in.

Things are all the same as he’s left it, and all he has to show for it is wasted time.

He decides his self-loathing is stronger than his loneliness, that whether the rapping on his door was real or imagined, he would rather hold his breath instead. He need not open the door. He doesn’t want to. He hopes it really was imaginary, so he doesn’t have to face the reality of what might lie beyond his room.

He decides then and there he’s more frightened of what’s out there more than what’s in his head.

Ewan’s voice, impatient, speaks up. Pelleas sits a bit straighter, anxiety taking hold of him as if moving even an inch would tighten some noose ‘round his neck that wasn’t even there. His silence remains, and Ewan’s hand knocks against wood again.

Is he serious?

If the door gets destroyed, would it be Pelleas who has to pay for its repairs? If the door no longer protected the contents of the room— him— would he have to make a run for it? How far would he be able to run? Where would be a good place? Maybe he’d even have to consider pseudocide—

“ Please don’t. ”  Pelleas opens his door with more swiftness than he had anticipated even from himself. Whilst his voice isn’t hoarse as it is some days, he’s still the very picture of unkempt, hair unruly and oily in all sorts of places, eye bags pronounced, and clothes the same as he’s worn the past few days. He keeps a hand on the door and the other in front of his torso, balled into a tight fist as he gloomily asks,  “ …Why are you here? I’m staying away from trouble. Am I not doing a good enough job at that or…? ”

What’s left of Ewan’s patience is fast dwindling. So he takes a deep breath, counts to ten, and waits. Does he have to right to be angry? To be annoyed? He’s not sure, but it doesn’t matter to the ire bubbling in his chest. Eight... Nine... Ten.

Knuckles rap at the door once more. “If you think I’m kidding, I advise you I’m the most serious I’ve ever been in my life right now.” Heck, maybe it’d even feel good to cause a little wanton destruction. Blow off a little steam. Mmm.

But Pelleas finally shows his face, and all such thoughts promptly vanish. (They’re not far away, should he have need of such considerations yet, but for now... for now, Pelleas’ door is safe.)

Ewan looks him over, blinking in surprise at the sight presented him. “Eesh...” The assessment escapes unbidden. Oh well. “Um. Why are you here?” He turns the question about, brows furrowing with renewed aggravation. “It’s been days. Haven’t seen hair nor hide of you in class. You don’t look sick.” No, Pelleas looks decidedly something else, but not like. Physically ill or on his death bed or anything.

“You’re at Garreg Mach to learn aren’t you?” Otherwise... what’s the point? But Ewan can’t say that. Even he knows some measure of tact. When he wants to. “C’mon, we have a mission we gotta do. But uh. Maybe... you should shower first...”

Pelleas had tried to stay away from trouble...

But Ewan was keen to prove that trouble would find him all the same if things kept up like this.

[jehannanmage]

Two Desert Mages Walk Into a Freezer || Merric & Ewan

windsheedme​:

Even in the face of a blizzardy onslaught, Merric finds himself chuckling in entertainment at Ewan’s exclamation; even the toughest and most daunting of tasks can be made at least a little less so with the proper company.

The aforementioned chuckle however is eventually cut short by the aforementioned onslaught, that slams shut the door behind them only to swing it back open; the Jehannan locks it and places a badly damaged chair (?) against it, and the Altean pitches in with another.

“Kind of a wreck? You are being awfully generous here,” he responds to Ewan’s observation, a somewhat exaggerated wince clear on his face. Still, the other’s suggestion is met with a nod; maybe they can find something of use as they take a look around. Whatever that use might end up being.

And so, he follows Ewan up the stars - that is, until Ewan gets stuck. “Oh– hold on, I’ll help you.”

And of course, in Merric’s case, this means he is going to come over to Ewan’s side, grab his hand and pull him out. And also, in the process, drop the fireball he had been holding for light and warmth.

Luckily, it does not actually land on the stairs right next to them, but directly under the staircase, on what probably used to be a sofa or a large chair once upon a time. Whatever it was, it was made from something flammable, so… he supposes that’s one way to make sure they’re warm, but he probably could have come up with something better.

“Well, uh.” Oops. “It’s moist in here because of the snow, so it shouldn’t spread quickly I think?” Is that how this works? “There’s some papers on that table over there upstairs, let’s see what they say. At least we’ve got both warmth and light now, I guess…”

“Well I didn’t wanna insult the place,” he quips back. “Might hurt its feelings.”

But no. No. Merric’s right. Even calling this place a dump is generous, in truth. They’re lucky it’s not falling in on them with the force of the blizzard outside, and that’s about the extent of the credit Ewan’s willing to give the place in earnest.

Really, he should have known better than to test the stairs. Couldn’t help it though. Explorers must needs explore - it’s right there, in the name, and though he hasn’t travelled very far lately outside of academy-sanctioned missions, he is still very much an explorer at heart.

And so, he finds himself stuck.

“Ah, I think I’ve got it, should be fine...”

He doesn’t got it. If anything, he may have sunk himself a foot deeper. He hears the creaking of wood underfoot. Is there a secret basement here? He’d rather not find out in such a manner... He gratefully accepts Merric’s proffered hand and carefully eases himself free. Phew! “Freedom!” he crows, casting a defiant stare at the staircase before dusting himself off and glancing at Merric with a grin and a word of thanks.

And in doing so, notices a certain something amiss.

“... Yeah. Let’s go with that.”

It’s a surprisingly calm answer he meets Merric with, this in spite of his first thoughts upon spying the fire being more along the lines of ‘Holy cannoli the place is on Fire!!?!’

But if Merric’s not too worried then...

Yeah. Fuel. That sounds good. Ish. And info, he supposes, if papers just strewn about happen to contain anything of note. He ain’t about to get his hopes up though.

“Alrighty. Let’s try this again.”

Lightly, he clambers up the stairs, keeping this time to the outer edge and advancing with a more delicate bent than his prior attempt. Finally, he makes it to the top and waves his companion up. There’s a big ol hole near the table that he’s gonna try not to think too much about, but otherwise the place seems sound. Relatively speaking.

Some of the papers are kinda damp.

Some though, remain rather crisp... not that that helps.

“These are all in some weird language... Can you read them?”

Some of the symbols almost remind him of magical runes and their ilk, albeit not quite. Hmm...

[jehannanmage]

strings of fate

flowerofgoneril​:

This is what she wants. She’d been so unsure for so long but now that it’s about to officially happen, she could kick herself for not realizing it sooner. For not letting herself realize it sooner. It was easy and safe to keep things simple and without a label. There were no risks keeping things light. But Ewan is worth the risk.

She certainly hopes he keeps up his boldness when Holst and her father inevitably learn about this relationship. When a large, pink haired man shows up with a giant axe threatening his life if he should ever break his sister’s heart, will nobles still be damned? This is Ewan though. His sunny smile and cheery disposition should be able to win over the most overprotective of big brothers.

“You know, this wish magic must be really powerful.” Hilda looks down at her ribbon and then back up at Ewan with a huge grin. “It seems my wish came true before I even tied mine on.”

Oh goddess, did she really say that? She sounds like Sylvain! Quickly she leans into him and steals a lingering kiss before he has the chance to tease her terribly lame line.

It feels a bit like he’s floating. Or maybe treading water. Calmly, peacefully staying afloat without much of any effort. Wish magic, she’d said. If he were being logical he’d say such a thing doesn’t exist. . . but in this case, it’s not Down-to-Earth, Sensible Ewan that shows up. It’s the Ewan who dares to hope and dream, and thinks that even if it may not be tangible or visible...

surely, the magic to wish is real, and powerful at that.

The proof is lightly latched onto his lips, at present.

But though she leaves him breathless, he can’t help but grin as they part ways - not so far as to be out of reach, just an inch or so apart to breathe, to take the other in, perhaps in a new light - and he must remind her that he does not forget so quick nor easily.

“That’s awful cheesy,” he notes with a small laugh. “But come on. My wish has yet to be granted.” He turns away from her - a taunt, almost - and legs it the last few feet to the tree. Standing on the tip of his toes, he reaches, lightly bends a branch down and... voila!

“Now to wait for the seeds to take fruit,” he announces with a grin. The Wish Tree will surely abide by the ritual - and if not, Ewan’s never had any problems taking matters into his own hands.

He almost saunters back, and this time steals a kiss of his own, fingers lightly, oh so delicately tilting her chin to meet him. How strange a thought -- that this could happen every day now.

[jehannanmage]

on the bright side

keen-kin​:

Rain huh? That was annoying. A light drizzle was one thing, but sudden torrential rain that soaked her in seconds? Not fun. 

She takes a note of all her equipment, making sure everything would be safe. Her sword would need some extra care later, but would be fine. Her clothes would be uncomfortable, but she could change as soon as they got back. Looking in her bag, all bone dry. Lucky that it was waterproof… 

Oh. There was an umbrella in her bag. Would have been great if she’d remembered that a minute ago. Taking it out, she looked over at Ewan with a smile. At least her companion was in a similar position.

“I’m not great at riddles…” She took a second to ponder the question before his tap brought her back to her senses. Oh. He wanted a fight. 

Her face lit up with a smile as she held out her umbrella. “Funny you mention it. I actually own an umbrella with a dagger hidden in the handle!” Well… it was a parasol really, but who was counting? “Don’t worry though, this one’s safe enough.” 

It was an unconventional weapon, but close enough to a regular sword that Larcei felt comfortable swinging it. 

> Roll: 13! 

Making her move, Larcei gave a decent swing, hitting Ewan’s umbrella with a nice whack! “I’ve never lost an umbrella fight either!”

“With a dagger inside...? Woah, how coooooooool!”

How innovative! Was it a damsel who’d come up with the idea? Some bright lady in need of some manner with which to defend herself from ne’er-do-wells in the streets? Or maybe it was some regal chap, a private eye with a nose for snooping where he didn’t belong, a real penchant for getting himself into trouble. A blade in a parasol - or a cane, even - would be less conspicuous than a dagger out in the open. . .

Ah. He was getting carried away. Like. Super carried away.

“Well, there’s always a first for everything,” Ewan teased with a grin and a twinkle in his eye, gripping his ‘weapon’ just that little bit tighter lest she knock it right out of his hand. A solid heft to her ‘blade,’ he’d do well not to underestimate her. Mind, he was more speaking for himself, given his past experiences attempting to wield any kind of non-magic weapon (atrocious, each and every one of them), but hey, he’d do his best to put up some kind of fight, at least.

> Roll: Nat 20! OvO

If Ewan had anything going for him here, it was that he was light on his feet-although that certainly was not to say that Larcei wasn’t- and, he definitely had a streak of mischief and curiosity both in him, each a mile long. And given what bit he’s seen of her swordplay... he’d need to take what advantages he could.

“Woah!” he glanced abruptly to the right, in mock surprise. “Who’s that!”

He lunged. And then... thwack! 

A smack aimed square in the side.

[jehannanmage]

{ found family || Ewan & Henry

macawbre​:

“Well, I’m pretty sure whoever started this whole she-bang was in it for stalky creepy reasons. Or maybe they lost a loved one and couldn’t get over themselves… hmm. Forgot which.” As he watched Chrom’s face emerge from the mist, swirling and emanating in what felt like a magnetic pull, Henry felt his nose start itching like crazy. (It was probably the ash beard he had drawn on his face, to be honest!) Reeling backwards quite violently, he winded up only to huff up a whole lung and… lose the sneeze before it could escape. That was the WORST feeling he could possibly inflict on himself. “Ahhhh– I lost my sneeze! Ah– Yeah, no. It’s totally gone. Damn.” 

“Where was I going with this?” His thoughts were a bit shuffled but he knew he was on something rather important. But since he was caught up with all of Ewan’s inquiries, Henry thought that he should start beating the drum to a different rhythm. Maybe it’d come back to him soon… If he had lost it, it was probably swimming in Ewan’s eyes somewhere. (That boyo’s entire face lit up with such intrigue… Henry couldn’t let him down now!) “If it was that easy to communicate with people, I think we’d have made mailmen obsolete, nya ha ha! Don’t think they’d appreciate that much— AH-!” Second wind?! Really? 

“AHHH CHOOOO—✰!!”

Blowing up a storm with just his nose alone, he managed to blast his set up into ash-torn pieces—and with it, Chrom’s visage disappeared into sheer smoke. Scuffing his nose with his knuckle, he managed to get more ash all over his face. Looking like a full blown chimney sweep now, ain’t he? “Shoot. I guess we’ll have to draw the summoning sigil again if we want to find one of your pals, huh? I’m ash-ing you to help me this time, nya ha!”

Whirling his wrist like a show magician, he directed Ewan to the opposite side of the candles. With a quick quip and a ‘mirror me, won’t you?’, Henry began to slowly redraw the sigil from one side, without the histrionic motions this time. With his fingers sliding in precise, rounded motions, he finished his half circle in twice as much time to ensure that Ewan could follow along.  “My bird friends actually are my familiars! We’re bonded by blood and contracts and all that endearing stuff, ya know.”

“Oh! Speaking of endearment…!” Abruptly, he exclaimed to have remembered something. He plopped a fist into his palm, as his eyes lit up like fireflies. “Thanks to that whole losey-choosey sneeze of mine, I finally recall my train of thought. This tracker spell was created by someone who refused to acknowledge that their loved one was dead. So they searched and dug and clawed their way through the most complicated spells, simply to end up with this one.”

“And with it, they discovered it was all for naught. Because that person was gone for good, nya ha ha! Wouldn’t it have been easier to just—” Kill yourself? Was that what he was going to say to an innocent student? “Find your peace?”

“But I guess, since we’re using their spell well into the future to find people we’ve lost… they allowed us to find our peace instead. Huh.”

“You forgot,” Ewan answered flatly, single brow raised. Then again, it wasn’t so unbelievable. He could tell Henry had a lot of knowledge tucked away in that (admittedly eccentric) noggin on his. The younger mage grinned, shaking his head in whimsy. No matter.

Henry lost his sneeze. That seemed a matter more important at present. Ewan could relate - truly, it was the worst. “It can’t have gone far,” he comforted with a small smile. “It’ll be back.”

And oop, there it was. Told ya.

“Sure, sure! Soot yourself, I’ll take what practice I can get,” he shot back, grinning as he knelt across the room from Henry, set to copy, he marvelled again at the opportunity before him. Why couldn’t all the teachers be cool like Proffy Henry? Tsk.

“Oh. Familiars...! I see. I have one of those too, sorta.”

Good ol’ Joe! But that was a topic for a different time. Maybe Henry would wanna see him? Maybe Henry and Joe would even make for good pals. He suspected they would. They shared a similar sense of humour, insofar as Ewan could tell despite Ser Joe being mute ‘n all.

He looked up at the other’s sudden exclamation, rubbing his own nose then and tracking a smear of ash across his cheek to match. His face fell.

“Oh.” A pause, as he reflected on the tale. “That’s awful...”

And jarringly deja vu, too. “There was a man back in Magvel... he couldn’t bear to part with his beloved, either. Somehow, she... came back,” Ewan noted haltingly, half focused on remembering and half on his art project below. “She wasn’t really though. Back, I mean. She was just a hollow shell, denied her own peace.”

Sticking his tongue out with a final mite of concentration, Ewan finished his area of the circle. At once, his mood brightened anew. “Ta-da! Not too shabby if I say so m’self!” Coulda been better, mayhap, but coulda been lots worse too - he’d always prided himself on being a quick study. “Well, shame about that guy, but I’m glad the knowledge was passed down.”

Allowing speech over long distances... It was a dream he’d kept close for a long time now. Regardless of mailmen, Ewan couldn’t help but think this spell might be onto something in that regard.

“Shall we!”