lunaede

[lunaede]

SEPTEMBER 2023:

total skill points: 8 -> 10

activity check +1 (Lance C -> C 1/2), bow point from thread +1 (E -> E+)

classes mastered: N/A

new classes accessed: N/A

current class: commoner

[lunaede]

Frederick is glad that he didn't cause any issue, nothing fell and nothing was broken. He holds the formula in his hands and raises his eyebrows -- this woman seems to already know more about the care of these creatures than those who halfheartedly gave him these bottles.

"You know a lot about them, then?" he asks, and places the bottles down against the wall. It does not take him a lot of convincing to simply believe there are better foods for the poor little things; he may not be an expert, but he has seen that they are already quite hearty beasts.

"I fear I know hardly anything on the topic of wyvern care," he says, straightens his back and folds his arms behind his back. "If you are going to feed them, would you mind telling me what you know? I would like to be helpful, and not give incorrect advice to those who are volunteering their time."

He's a little snarky on the last line, but he can't help it. If you're going to claim to be an expert on wyvern care, the least you could do is get the basic facts correct.

𝘄𝘆𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗻 𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆𝘀𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗲𝘀

[lunaede]

He understands horses, of course. He's quite good with them, even. Back in Ylisse he had a few that he would ride and tend to, and despite the distance and their assumedly pleasant retirement from war time he misses them. He had grown close to his mount as one would grow close to a comrade in arms, and despite there appearing to be no imminent threat of danger --

( Jugdral does live in the back of his mind, warnings cryptic and obtuse )

-- he would like to have the chance to bond with one again.

So, as he stands, he's feeding one of the horses with his palm up, oats presented as an offering. This one is calm and friendly enough, but clearly attuned to anxiety that Frederick holds in the pit of his stomach. It's skittish when he moves too fast, and he cannot bring his shoulders down for fear of dropping his guard.

The distraction, then, by the girl next to him is a welcome one -- both for the knight and the horse. He stands up a little straighter and his eyes widen as he looks at the wound. Oh, what a nasty bite indeed.

"Milady!" he's a little shocked, and immediately reaches for his own personal first aid kit. He takes out a long bandage and considers the source of the wound. "Where did you...? How...?"

He doesn't have to wait for an answer. He's able to put two and two together, and reaches his hand out. "Let me assist with washing that before I bandage you. Proper treatment of a wound will ensure no infection takes hold."

He knows where fresh water is nearby, and after ensuring proper wound care has been administered he can dress it.

❄ ⁺∗ ❛⠀ 、 iced to meet you ! ( riding +1 )

[lunaede]

Can he fit?

Well, Frederick isn't much for planning, or really thinking too hard about strategy. He's reflex in the heat of battle, stand your ground and prepare to face your enemies head on. That's not a wise choice currently, though. He needs to get through that crack and escape, and he has to at least try.

After he's sure Altena has made it through, he tries to squeeze -- and fails. He's simply too large -- especially with all his armor on.

frederick rolled 1d20 Result: 7 !

Grimacing, he fumbles with his plate armor in an attempt to get it off as quickly as possible, but time is running out. That creature is headed straight for him, and if he's not quick he's going to be seriously harmed.

He manages, though, as the golem approaches. He reaches for Altena's hand. "Milady! Please, help me through!"

milady don't look but there's a THING behind u

[lunaede]

He had been sleeping terribly. Anyone who had gone into that dream-not-dream most likely felt similarly to Frederick, and despite knowing he was in good company he had not quite been able to shake that feeling of despair as it poured into the living hours.

What breakthrough did he have, then? In that place? He knew what he had wanted -- the control of his own narrative, to do what his mother and father could not. He did not want to be a pawn. He did not think of Robin or Chrom as grandmasters in a game of chess, but now that he had a chance to live life off the board he was all too eager to learn what that meant.

Was it wrong of him to want that? To want to be more?

He did not have a purpose here. He did not really even have a liege; he was on his own, a knight of seiros in name alone. Should he consider something different?

He hit lance against the practice dummy again, again, again. He tried the axe. He tried the sword. He wanted to exhaust himself until there were no more thoughts in his mind.

Frederick did not notice at first that Ephidel was there. He had been too busy focusing on the smack of steel to canvas, of the strength of his swing. When he did, he dropped his weapon and sighed.

He was tired. He was so, so tired. And he did not have the energy to pretend to be strong right now.

go out with a whimper

[lunaede]

The greenhouse has been absolutely frantic these past few days. Students who aren’t preoccupied with running back and forth, juggling fertiliser and various implements in their arms, are saying an incredibly rare plant, the Lady-of-Mourning, is blooming. It’s a sorrowful plant, named for a famous folk tale featuring a pair of ill-fated lovers. Once upon a time, there were two lovers from very different classes. One, hailing from a noble family, with a notable crest, the other, a woman from the local village. Despite their differences, they were able to snatch shared moments together when they could. That was, until the noblewoman was engaged to a politically advantageous match, crushing all hope of their union forever. In her fury, she began destroying everything in her path with a strength fuelled by grief and separation. She became a monster. One her lover had to kill after she almost destroyed her home village. In the battle, they annihilated each other. Falling together in a fatal embrace, they were united by death. Depressing stuff. Normally, when the flower blooms (once every two hundred years) it ensures their story is remembered. That lovers won’t be separated ever again. But this year, the flower seems to be wilting before it can blossom. Will you be able to save the plant and ensure true love can flourish forevermore? [Grants Faith +1]

What a terribly sad story. Of course Frederick can feel for the protagonists of this tale, though he has questions as to the validity of it all. Folklore born from tragedy may be exaggerated or greatly misinterpreted, and while Frederick does believe that there was something to this story as a whole, he's sure the connection to this plant is tenuous at best.

Still, he humors himself -- humors his friend and fellow shepherd. To have another person he knows from back home here eases his soul, calms his mind. He misses them all. He's not about to say he does not believe in the tale if it would shoo away one of his connections to home.

Libra is a healer. Libra is also incredibly fierce, something that Frederick can not only appreciate but also can relate to. Frederick's own healing touch is non-existent; Lissa and Mari have always been better at easing the pain of others, and while Frederick would be able to assist in a pinch he does not think he has the ability to help a dying plant.

"Libra," he says, and looks at the wilting thing in front of him. There's not much he can see himself doing, but he's there. Emotional support and what have you. "Do you have a plan of action, or should we... perhaps give it more water?"

He has no idea, if that's not obvious.

@nagieux

𝙞 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙

[lunaede]

His worries are somewhat eased by the girl's smile. He does not think less of her for her station; some of the greatest minds of Ylisse's army were found in a field with nothing to their names, after all. She seems confident, well educated, and resourceful. It never would have crossed his mind to doubt her based on her age.

( after all, he's never been one for tactics. he was surprised when Robin suggested they protect their healer, after all.

he's gotten better over time, but it's clear this is not his strong suit. )

He offers her only the smallest of smiles in turn -- anxiety does not allow for too much expression. He's ready, and so is she it seems.

He moves down the mountain with a determined look on his face, and aims his lance in a defensive stance. He does not want to attack if he can avoid it ( he is not one for needless bloodshed, even if that blood belongs to animals ) but also he does not wish to become more of a target. Even less so would he like to see his companion harmed.

[1d20] Roll: [20] Result: 20 Reason: Frederick success in distracting wolves

It.. works. Extremely well, actually. The wolves seem disinterested now; perhaps they have had their fill, or perhaps they are alarmed by how loud and large Frederick looks waving his lance around. He tries hard not to have his voice betray his surprise -- while there was no flaw in the other's plan, he certainly did not expect it to be this easy.

"Away with you!" he calls, and juts his lance out at the last few who wish to steal a few leftover scraps. "Begone! Ah! My lady! It looks like we might have found success this day!"

He moves through the snow, and stands over their winnings. He watches the last of the wolves leave, though a couple stand close to observe. Perhaps they are waiting for an opening where they can take back their kill, but he hopes that they will be quick enough to keep the spoils of their victory.

　nieves penitentes.

[lunaede]

Frederick fixes the charm's yarn, twists it in a more appealing way. Certainly he does believe that the shepherds love him just as he loves them -- despite the teasing and calling him humorless, there is love there. He might push them to be the very best that they can be, but that too is love.

"I would like that," he says, softly, in response to Alfred's offer to speak about his homeland. Frederick misses Ylisse and his friends -- how could he not? -- and speaking of it eases his heart just a little. "I come from Ylisse, and it is a beautiful land. The people there are kind, they work hard, and they love their Exalt. There was... a time of unrest prior to the late Exalt Emmeryn's reign."

That's a way to explain it, he supposes. There were so many deaths, so many people who were hurt. He does not forget the shell-shocked expressions of the men who came back with blood on their hands and fear in their hearts.

Fighting a fruitless war. It breaks down the soul, rips it to shreds, plants hate in the space between the ribs. There is no glory or honor there, and it is something Frederick is so grateful for every day. Under Chrom, under Emmeryn... he was doing good. He was saving lives. He can go to sleep without hearing the cries of those who were slaughtered, for every fight was an honest one.

"Now, though, the Exalt Chrom ushers in a new era of peace and prosperity. He is the epitome of what it means to be ruler. He would have made his sister, Emm-- Exalt Emmeryn proud."

Thoughts of Emmeryn always feel like a cut on his tongue. He can still taste the metal of blood, feel the gnashing of teeth and the sting of tears in his eyes. A ghost in her own right.

He smiles, because he's sure that's what she would want. "Tell me about your home, please."

Divine Dragon Charms

[lunaede]

Oh, no. So he's not injured.

That's not... exactly a common train of thought for him: 'oh no, someone isn't hurt'. This is a strange case, however, and Frederick feels his shoulders tense, both at the thought that ran through his head and the realization that it will be him who tries this medicine.

He should be glad that he's the only one wounded here. He is, he supposes. Maybe. He was too wrapped up in himself for the moment to notice that this boy seems... very anxious. He can now see it so easily because in a way that mirrors his own emotions; caught up in thick bundles of nerves and a set jaw that is resolutely determined not to let his feelings show. He's better at hiding it, it seems, compared to the other.

"I see," he does say, straightens his back. He sighs. So, this is his lot in life. "I'm not badly injured, no. Hardly at all. I most likely could avoid all medicine if I needed."

It's mostly true. And he wishes he would. But alas, duty is duty, even if it requires eating grass or other such substances.

"I don't mind--" ( this is a lie ) "-- trying the medicine to see if there are adverse effects. I want to help you. Please, do you need a complete medical history before continuing?"

eat the weeds boys

[lunaede]

[ soothe ] sender kisses receiver to stop them from shaking

He did well to hide it. It was only by looking into his soul that Ephidel could see how it trembled. It was among the morph's duties to ease the hearts of the monastery's body; they were not sure why, but they had found this is what humans sought for that. Hands held in theirs, Ephidel leaned forward to whisper into the knight's ear. "Still your heart, Sir Frederick." Lips of ice graced his cheek before they tickled the curve of his jaw once again. "You are safe in these hands."

different kinds of kisses ( accepting! )

Of course he was anxious. How could he not be? After all that's happened, Frederick feels tense. It didn't feel like less of a dream because it was one, rather it felt even more real. Should no one else have acknowledged what happened, maybe it would be different. Maybe he could have ignored it all. But he cannot.

He closes his eyes. He's not used to seeking comfort this way, but he cannot deny that it helps. With Ephidel's kisses on his skin he feels his shivers change from those derived of fear to those of a different nature.

"I'm sorry," he says, and his voice is quiet. "I don't know what's come over me."

[lunaede]

early mornings, birds singing and dew on the grass. libra had a penchant for earliness, the solitude of sleepy silence and the camaraderie shared by those awake. it was a virtue to be ' the early bird who gets the worm ', grateful that the monastery facilities were open even at daybreak.

and libra knew, from the armies days together in tents & barracks, that frederick was just as much of an early riser as he was. no complaints, training, and breakfast. that's how he figured frederick would be now -- the same as always. oh, he could not forget his tendency to devote himself to readying all that could be readied for chrom through the duties bestowed upon him.

he knocks, lightly enough so to not be heard if frederick was still asleep, but loud enough to catch his ear if he was.

at the sight of him, libra smiles, calm and welcoming. "good morning to you. i hope my appearance is a welcomed one," hands push a small box of ylissean treats to frederick. if he were to be a guest, even for a fleeting moment, it was expected to bring a thank you gift . . . but, really, he just figured frederick may be somewhat homesick. "though it may be frugal, i've brought a taste of home with me. the gods have blessed my safe travels here, so i wish to share my thankfulness with you."

a pause. "that is to say... i'm happy to see you, frederick. the monastery must be happy to reap the benisons of your help."

Frederick does wake in the early morn. It's his nature to do so, to be ready for the day before even the sun is. It would make sense that this is a notable for those around him, including but not limited to his friends in Ylisse.

"Of course it is," Frederick says, and offers Libra a soft smile. It's a good feeling, to see another person he knows from the war -- someone who understands the loss of Exalt Emmeryn, the loss of Robin. The desecration and the pain, the victories and the deaths. If Libra believes Frederick to be homesick, he would be correct in that assumption. He may not miss the blood and the tears but he misses the laughs and the love. Garreg Mach has become a home for Frederick in its own right, one that he fits well into, but that does not mean he does not feel the ache where Ylisse sits abandoned. "I'm glad that you're here."

He takes the treats and places them on top of his dresser. Later, he will ask his friends to enjoy these with him. Libra would get along with Byleth and Ephidel -- he would love to introduce them all. "I appreciate the gift. Would you care to go for a walk with me this morning?"

[lunaede]

There could be worse opponents to face. Sir Niles is one that is both talented and fierce, though he could do without the constant innuendos and strange attempts at flirtations. Frederick knows he means little by it, and admittedly it provides him a modicum of comfort; that is to say, it reminds him of certain other archer who acted in an over the top manner.

Perhaps its something to do with the sport.

Frederick gives Niles a nod and a soft smile. "It is good to see you," he says, because it is. Admit it or not, he does enjoy chatting with him, even if he is mocking -- it seems to be in his nature to do so, and Frederick is both too tired and too relieved by the normalcy of his behavior to be irritated. He hands the spear already in his hand to his competition.

"It's in good sportsmanship to let one's junior go first. On your mark."

is that a lance in your pocket, or like...? ;)

[lunaede]

He pulls her with a force that -- should this have been a person of lower constitution -- no doubt would have hurt her. But she's Lady Altena, princess of Thracia, and a fearsome opponent and valuable ally; there should be no concern about whether he will hurt her.

The golem on the other hand. That thing might hurt her.

"Apologies!" he calls loudly as the golem seems to stomp its way towards them. "We need to get out of here quickly, Altena, or we're going-- ah!"

He skids to a stop and finally lets go of her hand as a series of rocks falls to the ground before them, blocking the passageway. His eyes widen as he sees the boulders fall, seemingly from the movement of that giant following them. He looks at Altena with wide eyes, blinks, then looks back behind them. It's approaching quickly, and he needs to think quickly.

Or... continue running. Both are better options than standing there.

"Another way, lets go!"

milady don't look but there's a THING behind u

[lunaede]

After the winter’s tragedy, the arrival of baby wyverns in the stables is welcomed not just with the usual excitement, but with outright tears of joy. With the traumatic memories still fresh in everyone’s mind, everyone is being extra careful with the babies, and intends to ensure they have the best care possible. Will you volunteer your knowledge and services? Or perhaps do you wish to learn from the best? [Grants Flying +1]

He's never been the best with flying mounts. That's not to say he does not care for the creatures of the sky, it's simply that his skillset is better served with other tasks. Even so there is a commotion about, and the loss of so many wyverns is fresh on the minds of students and faculty alike.

Frederick does find his way into the stables. His hands are tasked with holding blankets and bottles while he's told repeatedly how to assist the newborns. How complicated motherhood must be, that so many wyverns are ignoring their call to it; he's never been a parent, could never understand it, and yet he's filling the role of caretaker. It's certainly different from his time as a knight, it requires a softer touch -- he's not adept at this, but he's not terrible either.

Sumia or Cordelia or Cherche would probably have an easier time with this, but they are not here.

He holds the items in his arms as he rounds the corners. He pauses before walking into someone else, though so abrupt his stop is that he drops some of the formula on the ground.

"Ah!" he leans down and picks it up. "Apologies, milady."

@ilmania

𝘄𝘆𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗻 𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆𝘀𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗲𝘀

[lunaede]

DIFFERENT KINDS OF KISSES *  send 'reverse' for the reversal of the prompt, nsfw implied

[ soothe ] sender kisses receiver to stop them from shaking

[ forehead ] sender tenderly kisses receiver's forehead

[ brief ] sender sneaks a kiss to receiver's cheek as they walk by

[ brow ] sender kisses the bridge of receiver's eyebrow

[ impossible ] sender kisses receiver as a final gesture, knowing they can't be together

[ hiding ] sender checks the area around them before kissing receiver, trying not to get caught

[ handful ] sender peppers the receiver's cheek with multiple, playful kisses

[ line ] sender draws a trail of kisses down the length of receiver's shoulderblade and up their neck

[ almost ] sender and receiver are centimeters apart, about to kiss, but something interrupts them

[ side ] sender places a kiss on the side of receiver's nose

[ tip ] sender kisses the tip of receiver's nose

[ underside ] sender leans in and places a suggestive kiss just under receiver's jawline

[ giggle ] sender starts tickling and kissing the receiver all over in order to make them laugh

[ knuckle ] sender lifts receiver's hand to their lips and places a polite kiss there

[ last ditch ] right before receiver leaves for battle, sender rushes into their arms and kisses them desperately

[ the middle ] in the midst of a battle, sender steals a second alone with receiver and kisses them to reassure them

[ dreamy ] sender and receiver indulge in a handful of slow, romantic kisses

[ darkness ] sender and receiver makeout in a completely dark room

[ ear ] sender nuzzles and kisses receiver's ear

[ recline ] sender climbs ontop of receiver and steals a kiss

[ lazy ] sender kisses receiver to wake them up from a comfortable sleep

[ dramatics ] as sender and receiver argue back and forth, sender launches forward and kisses receiver to stop the fight

[ distance ] across a large space, sender blows receiver a kiss

[ hold ] sender and receiver are hugging, and sender kisses receiver on the cheek in a tender display

[ regret ] sender and receiver start to kiss, but sender backs away in the middle of it, knowing it's a bad idea

[ reunion ] thinking they'd never see each other again, sender and receiver are reunited and run into each other's arms, sharing a kiss

[ inner ] in a heated moment, sender trails kisses along receiver's inner thigh

[ lovebite ] in the midst of kissing receiver's neck, sender changes tactics and gives them a tender little bite

[ greeting ] sender and receiver greet each other with kisses to both cheeks in quick succession

[ bunny ] sender gives receiver a bunny kiss by rubbing their noses together back and forth

[ supportive ] sender kisses the top of receiver's head

[ fingertips ] sender places light kisses to each of reciever's fingertips

[ tongue ] sender and receiver indulge in a heavy makeout that involves tongue

[ first time ] sender leans in and kisses receiver for the first time

[ final ] sender and receiver share a kiss for the very last time, and they know it's their last

[ storm ] caught in the midst of a torrential downpour, sender can't help but close the distance and kiss receiver in the rain

[ scar ] sender sees one of receiver's scars for the first time and gently kisses it

[ desperate ] the situation is dire, and sender can't stop themselves from rushing forward and crushing receiver into an aggressive, frantic kiss

[ tend ] while tending to receiver's wounds, sender gives receiver a reassuring kiss

[ stolen ] sender and receiver cross paths and can't resist ducking into a safe place to makeout before they carry on with their day

[ irresistable ] sender taunts receiver by easing closer, promising a kiss, and then backing away, making receiver chase their lips

[ lipstick ] sender is wearing lipstick, and uses that fact to mark receiver with a few lipstick stains

[ chest ] sender removes receiver's shirt and immediately rushes forward to kiss their chest

[ shivering ] sender places small kisses all over receiver's stomach

[ fake ] sender and receiver pretend to be a couple and are forced to kiss each other to blend in

[ maybe ] sender and receiver are best friends and experiment with a kiss to see where it goes

[lunaede]

Spotlights. Flickering features, a face he swore was a ghost haunting him, only to reveal a man he'd once fought beside. Another flash of pain and then--

--Emptiness.

A shiver runs down his spine just thinking about it. The nightmare felt far too real for him to simply dismiss his experiences as the product of magic; something tangible was twisted up in the revenge plot of a scared little girl.

On some level, he empathizes with her. Doesn't agree with her methods, but he can understand that kind of desperation.

"Frederick." Laslow approaches, hiding his lingering hesitation. It wasn't the knight's fault. They've all done things--been forced to do things--they'd otherwise balk at. "No hard feelings, eh?"

It was a dream. He reminds himself that, over and over again, when he finds himself lost in that cycle of remembering and regretting. It's difficult to allow himself this luxury when he feels very much that there is a lot of blame left uncast -- even if that blame is centered on himself and not on anyone else who went to not-Verdane.

He is not as good at hiding his emotions as Inigo is. He tenses, and the tiredness in his eyes does not dissipate as he sees Olivia's child. Perhaps there are no hard feelings on his side, but Frederick does still feel responsible.

"I need to apologize..." he says, though that is hardly enough. "I would not be upset if you were angry with me. I chose incorrectly and you were the one to suffer for it. I hope that you can find it in yourself to forgive me."

[lunaede]

What a terrible situation to be left in. Frederick feels that, and knows that his companion feels that, too. The snow is beginning to stick more solidly to the ground, and he knows the distance they would need to traverse would not allow them to return back safely.

It is as his companion says. They need to seek shelter.

"I saw a cave back a ways," he says. It's in the opposite direction of the blood, but this seems to be their only option. "Come. If we want to stay warm, we will need to hurry."

His stomach aches, and he knows that they need to find food as soon as possible. He cannot imagine what the other must be thinking, though it cannot be optimistic. If they can make it back to the cave, at least they will be able to wait out the weather. Perhaps, if they are luckier still, they might find something to fill their bellies.

Better to not get their hopes up, however.

"This way. It is best not to risk ourselves."

for want of not having to eat bear meat