motheruin

[motheruin]

He didn't know how to approach this one.

She kept her distance, in general, anyway, but in combination with her naturally unsettling aura and her performance on the field of battle, Dimitri found himself...hesitant.

Still, he reminded himself with a short, reassuring breath, it was a task that needed to be done, and she deserved her due as much as any other.

"Excuse me...er...sister-mother? Lady Eremiya." A good start. He grimaced, turned the frown into an awkward smile. "I wanted to thank you, for fighting for the Lions. You had your choice, and you could have fought for another house - you have my gratitude, you strength was invaluable."

He had seen what the woman had done, had said to Edelgard. It twisted his gut into knots, the imagery she was hearkening, but he stifled his discomfort a moment longer.

"I know that we did not secure the victory overall, but I hope that, should you choose to compete in the future, that the Blue Lions would once more appreciate to have your strength by our sides."

DESPITE THE PREDETERMINED FATE SET BEFORE HER, the bishop was all but numb to the force in which the eagle had knocked her back with. in truth, the ache does not settle beneath her skin until she is far from the battlefield, silent in the face of raised banners, gentle as she handles herself without either guide or nurse. light splits from each wound, flickering through the grime and blood until it tucks itself safely under the broken skin to mend it overhead alike a blanket above a mattress.

eremiya hears him above the thrum of light magic in her ears, not as kind to the clumsiness of his words; repetitive and awkward. all she wishes to stray from as of the battle's resolution. to announce this distrust, as pledging her allegiance in blue was merely the means to an antagonizing end, she does not startle nor bristle, intent on cleaning herself rather than offering companionship.

invaluable strength, yes?

"it did not matter in the end, did it?"

crushing the wings of a house leader to mock the existence of others?

eremiya rises to stand, her gaze dark with an unfaltering apathy when she meets his eyes. raspy and drawling, she utters through a statue's pursed lips, "your gratitude is unnecessary, boy. i did not compete for sport nor thrill. it was simply obligation." as all things are. the existence of the hero-king, clad in blue, meant blending into his footsteps and cape until she found enough satisfaction to forget the apparitions. and she had not.

the boy is given a slow blink, a curt onceover, before the bishop pities him with, "the blue lions are desperate little things, inept in battle." children swinging toys about and wearing paper crowns. "i will stand within your ranks for as long as necessary." because promising a longer, fuller term allows the possibility of trust, and that is not a luxury neither she nor he can spare.

whether he be an awkward prince or a distrustful one, she reads the tense curl of his lips with a voice of her own and, thus, leaves him to wallow in his thoughts.

[motheruin]

SHE NEARLY RETREATS FROM THE SHAME OF IT ALL; stoic and immovable despite trembling hands and pale knuckles, as though the offer, in itself, is anything than more than what it is━━━an offer. transparent in its generosity. a faint, yet present glimmer of this strange alliance they find themselves stepping to and fro into. 

through the blurred haze of displaced emotion, she forgets what prompted the invitation. what spurred general duessel to lay the unfurling prospect of indulgence; to share a fondness not many had. it is a memory she cannot retrieve and, expectedly, distrusts.

. . . terribly anxious and dizzy, eremiya stands before him, conscious only by the grounding scratch and dig of her chipped fingernails over immortal scars. duessel extends the sunhat for her to take and, suddenly, she must unearth the realization that it truly is for her and not some semblance of an gift meant for another.

you are, at least, worth meager protection for today, it says. and eremiya swallows her snide mutter, steels her facial expression, and accepts it carefully from his hands.

a curt nod before she reluctantly forces herself to relax, not able to comprehend the impossibility of self-imposed steadiness, "i will take it." a pause. "but. . . your kindness is unwarranted, sir duessel. you shouldn't have. . ." but a gift is a gift, so she bows her head ever so slightly and raises the sunhat until it fits comfortably over her hair, an exchange for the headdress she forwent this morning.

how does it look? not uttered, merely existent within apathetic(?) eyes. thank you, but she has not the heart to allow someone else this measure of generosity.

"what of you?" eremiya asks instead, quickly pulling her hand from the rim of the sunhat upon realizing its stagnant position. "breaking the boulder will exhaust you, especially under this sun."

& 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘰𝘥𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘴

[RECOVERY] gauntlets + 1, eremiya and duessel.

[motheruin]

THERE IS A MONSTER INSIDE THIS HOUSE, though the reality of this sin is a youthful one, born from the gradual corruption between a man's bright-eyed dream and the world's unbiased prejudice against all things inhumane, all things considered dangerous by sensitive fools. if identity becomes a question, then eremiya can answer it proudly.

to be a childless mother is a monster. to be a widowed wife is a monster. to be anything but perfect and clean is the birthing place of monstrosity.

the duke, to her surprise, is not a shade of what she is. he greets them with a skip in his step and the world in his bright, doe eyes; guiding them within his workshop with all but a promise over his rosy lips. he is everything she is not, and more, so when night fell and wood splintered beneath overgrown claws, sprouted erratically from his knuckles, the irony of her envy is not lost to her.

yet he wakes and pretends and that━━━the act of forgetting and remembering, the duality of one's memory━━━is something she can understand. so she, too, pretends.

but not tonight.

darkness engulfs the entirety of the guest bedroom, shaping itself blindly over her hands as she clasps her hands and prays silently in the tongue of her master. her head raises at the crackle of a candle and, again, bows at the offer of conversation. a silent acceptance that prompts speculation of their host.

"yes, i have." eremiya does not need to remember the previous night. "the groaning and. . . writhing caught me first, before the shadow." but she saw it, and that is what matters. to her and the boy, seemingly, since he urges forward a new matter at hand; origin and intention.

she straightens a bit, stiffer yet not unkind, for she nods and watches him all until the unspoken question falls into her lap. for that, she shakes her head, "normally, yes, but assuming he is like i, the impossibility of beautification is merely a stain that magic can remove. it is alike immortality in a way, is it not?" fifty years. . . the duke is only a few years older than she, only in word and not face. in fact, he appeared only a day or moon younger than pelleas himself. though, clearly, her accidental happenstance of youthful deception (which, if asked by herself, is unwarranted, since appearing a handful of years younger is hardly worth the confusion) is little than a congraluations compared to the duke's purposeful feat.

a pause taken to wave her hand dismissively, "i simply wonder what spurred the cost of himself as sacrifice. or, rather, his whole self. which scripture in the recipe spells out the transformation. as implying that dark magic does not normally require something in return is poor judgment."

because it does, and had. it crept through the pages of her worn out tome and stuck its decrepit, selfless fingers rooted themselves to the hood of her mouth until she gave up all she was and could have been. but the final image for her, decades ago, and now, still, was the possibility of waking up, with her children at her sides, and never fearing a day where it would all be a restless, guilty dream.

". . . the duke plans to distribute the recipe to the masses, yes? would it not be wiser to covet the heirloom for conquest and not capital?" was that not the selfishness most humans were known for, both he and she included? "the price is self-imposed and yet he wishes it refined. . . fifty years of physical age altered so swiftly; so shamelessly, too. . ."

what was the final image for him? where will he draw the line? where do they, bishop and dark sage, force his hand? apathetic eyes flit from pelleas' face to the still candlelight and thin lips purse in subtle disgust. "this. . . alchemy is a practice i am not familiar with, but i assume that there is history between it and the duke's family, no?"

there is a monster inside this house

          ⤷  non-mission task:  recovery  ( family heirloom )

[motheruin]

WITH EASE DOES THE FOUL - TONGUED MAN COLLAPSE BENEATH THE WEIGHT OF CASPAR'S STRIKES, and similarly, with a distinct easiness does he swiftly threaten to slip from the crux of her memory, for the threat of the opposing team's steel becomes a crystallized mirror of her own securities. thus, she bears her teeth and reverses the air of her palm into the crackling, flickering light of faith, to split apart the coin of genuine concern from the wealth of annoyances darkening her countenance.

javelin strikes the ground when it misses her assumed, temporary ally, but in a similar happenstance, he cannot summon the courage, or simply the energy, to pull taut what they both share in the forms of strings. she has recognized his inability to grasp onto nosferatu, despite the simplicity of tearing from another what you require.

and she states as much when she frowns, "are you inept with magic, boy?" a raspy growl nearly overcomes her words, but the question, in itself, is a genuine worry of ability. a near rarity to contrast his humility in the face of elincia's respectful, and not surprising, apology for all she lacked.

to that, eremiya almost smiles.

EREMIYA 2/6HP barely hits CASPAR 4/5HP and does not heal herself with nosferatu. [ roll d20 = 5; -0HP, +0HP ] CASPAR 4/5HP, EREMIYA 2/6HP

until the glow in her hand, too, splutters and croaks uselessly moments before completely seeping back into the scars of her palm and fingers. the string she pulled from caspar's aura had given and taken little, despite the clutch of her grip.

"ugh. do not damn me, now, body of mine," she scolds in a low mutter to herself, wringing her hand once digging her fingernails into her palm until crescent imprints threaten to break in retaliation to her failure.

your turn, @amitieos !

highs and lows at gronder field

BOEL round 2 // battle 17

[motheruin]

THOUGH THE TWITCH OF THE EAGLES REMAINING WINGS WAS PREDICTED, to bear the brunt of the attack without spilling a single stuttered exhale or wince required second skin that mother was without. thus, she nearly crumbled upon the avenging succession of strikes, her instinctively raised hands managing only to become cut and sore from shielding herself. apathy cracked to splay the slightest image of genuine worry twitching her eye; softening her countenance and quivering her bottom lip.

CASPAR 5/5HP hits EREMIYA 4/6HP with iron gauntlets. [ roll d20 = 12, 5; -3HP ] EREMIYA 1/6HP

yet, upon the recognition of his and his leader's words, those trembling lips dare to spread into a sneering smile, as sudden as the amusement shaking her shoulders and rasping laughter from her throat. there rose the canted head of the bishop, crooning before bloodied hands clutched onto her skirts and mocked the arch brow of consideration.

"do not worry, girl," mother sidestepped to join alear's strides, gaze on edelgard's swaying back, "i remember faces well, else i be remiss to forget such an image of leadership."

but pleasantries were far past the throes of battle and, swift, she took her temporary ally's word, filling in the empty space their brief triumph had granted them. though she had not given him a word of gratitude, the statement would be found in the curtness of her nod; sudden, came the followed raise of crimson stained hands in spite of the exhaustion wearing away her joints.

". . . allow me,"

EREMIYA 1/6HP hits CASPAR 5/5HP and heals herself with nosferatu. [ roll d20 = 11; -1HP, +1HP ] CASPAR 4/5HP, EREMIYA 2/6HP

those very stained hands tug taut the discovered strings of the sapphire boy's energy, crushing them within her hands until they could only seep into the cuts of her palms. not much, but any relief was more than enough to sustain her.

all before he lunged again for another━━━

come on white boy, come on, @berglietz !

highs and lows at gronder field

BOEL round 2 // battle 17

[motheruin]

♡ ・ cause they see right through me, / i see right through me ━━━ eremiya & merric

SETTING: within the sparsely lit library during the late hours of night,

[motheruin]

THE EAGLES BECOME SWIFT TO ADAPT WHEN STRUCK DOWN, curling their wings around their wounded leader and pushed together until the cracks of their formation nearly become impregnable. and one bird even finds it worth the breath to goad the bishop into mothering her ire unto him entirely. but all is lost to her, for she hardly regards him with the slightest of scowls before beowolf pulls their own positions in suit of theirs, aligning her once again with the sight of edelgard.

light flickers in the curl of her hand, though suddenly put out by the abrupt snap of a drawstring; wary a moment too late before steel pierces her bicep,

ELINCIA 5/5HP hits EREMIYA 6/6HP with steel bow. [ roll d20 = 10; -2HP ] EREMIYA 4/6HP

jerking her body to withstand the blow and splitting the scarred skin that had seen to decades of healing itself. thus, not a sound leaves her upon the brunt of pain, only clenching her jaw and clutching onto arm over the wound, fingers splayed to accommodate the spine of the arrow. apathetic eyes flit upwards, to the kind wave of the lady's hand.

then, there, comes the raspy growl scratching at her throat, bearing her teeth when she presses a nail against the wooden arrow's spine before snaping it from the rest. "your optimism exists only in light of your naivety. . ." eremiya scolds, careless as she drops the broken arrow piece to the ground. when her lips stretch to smile, blatantly like the twisted mirth darkening her countenance, it is her injured arm that she raises; hand stained by only a minor splatter of seeping blood.

"i do not underestimate in the throes of battle. . . all birds join their flock, from life unto death. and if i must tear your leader apart to begin this chain of movement, then i will."

EREMIYA 4/6HP critically hits EDELGARD 2.5/5HP with luna. [ roll d20 = 20; -4HP ] EDELGARD 0/5HPEDELGARD HAS BEEN DEFEATED !

her scarred hand does not retrace the crescent, merely commanding its image upon beck and call. and, just as before, swift and curt, the crescent fills itself whole and bursts within seconds of falling unto edelgard. the pain of her bicep flares and,

mother exhales. mocking, heather eyes dull their former blades. her trembling hand rises to clutch her arm again. "focus, boys. we are left with strays now."

@berglietz !

highs and lows at gronder field

BOEL round 2 // battle 17

[motheruin]

THE SCENE AT PLAY WAS AS FOLLOWS: head of the opposing winged - sigil house standing with both lady and boy in her steed; eremiya with her hands clasped in light of her half - hearted nod, whether in greeting or well wishes, not even herself knew; and, wheezing, sir beowolf knelt on weak knees, struck immediately to the ground muttering both compliment and profanity. mother nearly rolled her eyes, sighing through her teeth as she regarded him with a narrow look, easily confused for sympathy if not for the lack of emotion brightening the dullness of her eyes.

"your language is pardoned," raspy and curt, answering what was not directed upon her. "now, come, sir beowolf. bear the pain and stand. you are useless if you remain on the ground."

with her focus still partially fallen on him, mother's hands separated from where they were once intertwined; yet not far from one another when a glow began to seep from her palms. the pads of her fingers traced the image of a crescent cut through the air, settling before her in a flicker of light until the crescent became full,

and was swiftly brung down upon the pale - haired house leader in a burst of magic.

EREMIYA 6/6HP hits EDELGARD 5/5HP with luna. [ roll: d20 = 11; -2.5HP ] EDELGARD 2.5/HP

whether to provide an example for her teammates, in which both had missed their advances, or to utilize a blatant opportunity for the newly - gifted spell, the magic committed to its task and returned to seep back within her skin, simmering until its next beck and call.

"i wish to bring her down myself. tear the head from a team and the others will follow the drop," came the beginnings of eremiya's otherwise harmless growl, despite the dull yet aimed daggers of her apathetic gaze falling onto edelgard, "but i cannot focus if my allies are wounding themselves instead of others. are you well, sir beowolf? alear?"

@alyration !

highs and lows at gronder field

BOEL round 2 // battle 17

[motheruin]

THE HUNTER'S BOW STRIKES MAN AND NOT BIRD, but the result is all the same; hector is condemned to no longer fulfill his once eager participation, and mother, once again, always left to face the back of another, remains the sole bearer of the chivalrous house's weight. expectation clicks her tongue, setting her countenance a tone darker than before and into the beginnings of a grimace. first comes her scoff, "flee, hector. your relevance has lost its spark." but, softer, as if not herself, she adds, "at least you are not completely worthless. now, shoo. tend to your wounds, boy."

apathetic heather eyes fall to the girls before her, humming a raspy note before clasping her hands, though not ignorant to the magic tingling beneath her skin, retracing the jagged outlines of both scar and birthmark. yet, she remains unblemished from this fight besides the tears of fabric, as though never once touched.

"come, girls," a gesture of her hand; bored gaze now mocking. "you have forgotten the threat that can uphold herself. i beckon thee."

SELENA 2.5/6HP critically hits EREMIYA 5/6HP with iron sword. [ roll: d20 = 18; -2HP ] EREMIYA 3/6HP

and she is met, of course, with the bite of a blade against her chest. not fatal, no, but the strength of this swordswoman mustn't be overlooked. thus, immediately, mother's retaliation reaches out to grasp onto the space between them once she's stumbled back; tugging forth the energy torn from her.

EREMIYA 3/6HP critically hits SELENA 2.5/6HP and heals herself with nosferatu. [ roll: d20 = 20; -2HP, +2HP ] SELENA 0.5/6HP, EREMIYA 5/6HP

simple steps backward, crushing the light within her hand until it can only seep into the skin of her scarred palm. mother's smile sharpens into a wild grin, paired with the rasp of laughter scratching the back of her throat.

"again, girl!" mocking, still, and spitefully proud. "strike me. show me the ire you threw upon those boys."

@cutestrival !

disturbing the peace — boel r1, battle 10

[motheruin]

DESPITE THE TWO SCRAMBLING TO STRIKE EACH OTHER DOWN, the sole bearer of mother's scowl is the boy, who belongs to the house she pledges to unlike herself, who wears the sigil only for the hope of staining it with the crux of her existence. away goes naesala and now, in his absence, is when hector begins to falter?

the incredulity of it all causes her hand to beckon only air and not the taut string of the swordswoman's life force,

EREMIYA 5/6HP misses SELENA 2.5/6HP and does not heal with nosferatu. [ roll: d20 = 1; -0HP ] SELENA 2.5/6HP

a fault she hangs heavy over hector's shoulders, and expresses only through the raspy grumble of her sigh, "focus, hector. . . your fruitless prancing is distracting."

@nohrslittleflower !

disturbing the peace — boel r1, battle 10

[motheruin]

THE MEDIAN OF EMPATHY IS SORELY LOST WITHIN MOTHER'S TWITCHING COUNTENANCE, accompanied only by a halfway bridge between a grimace and a scowl at hector's scoff, though his malleable physical response arches a brow in curiosity; watching suddenly as he both listens and seemingly resists her lleadership. thus, she clicks her tongue, "same team or not, allyship is not permanent unless earned." even then, children were always prone to losing all they were handed. hector and naesala may be no different or. . . !

"naesala!" the name leaves her before she fully recognizes that it is she who spoke it into existence. down the bird goes, struck by a hunting girl's ire. eremiya clenches her jaw but, despite staring at him and all of his injuries, in which what made him who he now fell to be, cannot pull a single thread of emotion from her heart that is not a simmering anger. and so she wears her disappointment plainly, offering only a scowl before her focus turns back to the girls before them; fresh off of a casualty.

the swordswoman is cut but not brought down to her knees, so eremiya grabs her skirts with a single hand and eyes the vacant area once upheld. "hector," narrow gaze flickers from axe to air. "come and occupy the space."

EREMIYA 5/6HP rotates the BLUE LIONS to the left.

she is quick to join his side, though that is all she does for this moment, instead speaking to hector with a rasp of command, "continue to focus on the girl before you. if she falls, the child will follow."

@corvuschriisti !

disturbing the peace — boel r1, battle 10

[motheruin]

MOTHER WATCHES AS NAESALA BEARS THE BRUNT OF THEIR OPPONENT'S IRE; apathy pulled taut within her at the sight of her consequence, wondering, if only for a moment, whether she would have been subjected to a similar fate if she was the one to fell celica. pah! no matter. the thread between swordswoman and healer is one of naive allyship, easy enough to tear as long as their optimism is quelled beneath a strong realism.

but that can only be accomplished once her own allies are on par with herself, capable of meeting the expectation head - on, without fail.

"naesala! hector!" comes her raspy call, paired with the rustle of fabric as she reaches one hand down to grasp onto the skirts of her dress. "move and adjust yourselves." and that is the only command; curt and swift.

EREMIYA 5/6HP rotates the BLUE LIONS to the right.

away from the swordswoman, eremiya wisely retreats to another space, but not in fear, simply a wise observation of another's flaws. naesala had not taken the arrow well and another would fell him, surely, as would be the hope from hunter to winged prey.

"remain standing, you two." an attempt at encouragement, without the promising bite she is used to offering, "you are useless if your efforts do not bear fruit. let it not come down to such a fate."

@cutestrival !

disturbing the peace — boel r1, battle 10

[motheruin]

MOTHER CANNOT FATHOM THE LUXURY OF BREATHING STEADILY, still trembling from collar to boot when hector's whisper crawls through the smoke of her shame and settles awfully taut in the front of her mind. thus, to quell it, she allows herself to be moved; grumbling incoherently and batting him away with a twitching hand. but the change of opponent does not delight her senses. before the swordsman, she remains a mere extension of what she had once been.

and this worrying paranoia festers even when a shadow ducks from the sky, unforgiving upon celica's once burning visage.

mother's gaze snaps up to the back of a beast. guilt slowly consumes itself into obligation, overfilling the cup her body makes itself out to be if only to falter her hopes at tending to celica herself; shaking at the thought of draining the bright girl of her undeserving fire until she is a skeleton of the mage she is now.

but all ends to the hoot and holler above her, reddening sepia skin into a rosy hue that she cannot recognize as genuine fluster or natural irritation. it takes a moment to pull her gaze from celica, but when she does, she squints up at naesala as though she cannot see him━━━which, she truly, cannot.

"ah. of course, whatever is necessary of me," curt and nearly dismissive if not for the snap of her focus onto the swordswoman. she would not need to give them a reason to be prideful, for taking from those who have is more talent than skill and━━━

EREMIYA 5/6HP misses SELENA 3/6HP with nosferatu. [ roll: d20 = 2; -0HP ] SELENA 3/6HP

CRACK! comes the burst of fire, elsewhere, from a far distant tome and not the confinements of her mind. the very second eremiya's gaze flickers away, her hand closes around air and not the halved wealth of the swordswoman's lifeforce. still - quivering palms pull back, scratching at the scars that traced from thumb to index to wrist.

she does not look back up to naesala. i cannot, does not manage itself, instead sharpening as, "damn it. i need to. . . i. . . must you hype so needlessly? i cannot focus if━━━"

but he quickly becomes the bearer of ire for her mistake.

@nohrslittleflower !

disturbing the peace — boel r1, battle 10

[motheruin]

DESPITE THE ILL INTENT OF THE INCONSOLABLE, the quarter of intangible life once beckoned from the very breaths celica gave is quenched with ease by the pulse of another girl's staff; replenished as if there had been little energy taken in the first place. the faltering cut of invisible strings between tool and bishop nearly dim the glow of her palms, causing a periodic flicker and stutter of both breath and magic.

where she splutters into dormancy, celica is none the same━━━the burst of fire sundering any and all earlier attempts at cordial composure.

CELICA 3/5HP hits EREMIYA 6/6HP with fire. [ roll: d20 = 15; 1.5 + 0.5 magic, -2HP ] EREMIYA 4/6HP

though her lips separate━━━to protest. to plead. to pester━━━not a sound leaves her before the stumble of her footing is met by heat. . . everywhere. nowhere. she can nearly taste the smoke before she smells it. cruel flames retracing the scars it once created and scorching the threads of otherwise pristine robes. immediately, her hands rise to her face. not to protect, but to claw and scratch. to dig into her skin and retaliate against the pain by inflicting it upon herself, first, and last. and she twitches as she does so, no longer stumbling as she once had been, but not a quarter more confident on her feet.

heather eyes widen, nearly missed by curtly cut nails, and her chest stutters in its erratic rise and fall. and yet. . . that is what she has not done, right? fall? would she need to rise if the shame of defeat had yet to turn her to ash?

when the mother's gaze rises to meet celica's, it is between the fingers of a trembling hand, where the other is raised in suit.

"you. . ."

EREMIYA 4/6HP hits CELICA 3/6HP and heals herself with nosferatu. [ roll: d20 = 17; -1HP, +1HP ] CELICA 2/6HP, EREMIYA 5/6HP

a scarred hand grips only air, yet clenches into a fist and tugs forth a measure of the sanity that had been torn from her. it is all she can do now, but she is the perfect host for mothering grudges until they sharpen into the makings of a weapon.

yet, as she glares, there is little question in the frightful backstep she makes, on instinct, away from celica. twitching, still, wary eyes flicker from warm colors to cool; blinking away the dark gaze to frown upon the sight of hector's form. he will not hold up for long, she thinks but does not voice, in fear that her voice will stammer to the extent of needing self-imposed, mutilated silence.

@corvuschriisti !

disturbing the peace — boel r1, battle 10

[motheruin]

THE CRUX OF BATTLE IS A FORCE IN ITSELF, a field of needless destruction and horrid whimsy, thus, before either blade or arrow makes their mark upon the bishop, she is already pressing onto the temple of her head to ease herself. a girl's voice before her, none like she's heard before, insists on optimism despite the depths of the blaring horn; and eremiya, she who fears none besides that which bestows a hand upon her memory, offers a weak smile in return.

she is met immediately with the all-too-familiar crackling bursts of flames.

CELICA 5/5HP barely hits EREMIYA 6/6HP with fire. [ roll: 5; 0.5 + 0.5 magic = 1HP ] EREMIYA 5/6HP

heather eyes widen to a fault, vision blurred already by the earlier heat of sunlight during preparations. thankfully, thank the dragon, that the red-haired girl is a sore shot than she, merely catching the slope of eremiya's arm aflame. so, quietly seething and trembling, ( To thou will go your wrath, ) the bishop clutches her arm with a scarred, aching hand and dismisses all else with the other.

she does not bat a lash at the brute man's comedy, though the ire of her glare settles only upon this celica's hand and not face. thus, ( Do not kill, only teach ) the flicker of light warms the curl of her palm; raised at the mirror of the girl's own.

EREMIYA 5/6HP hits CELICA 2/6HP and heals herself with nosferatu. [ roll d20: 10; -1HP, +1HP ] CELICA 1/6HP, EREMIYA 6/6HP

"yes, boy, you are heard," is returned through clenched teeth until the spell seeps over wounds, only new, and arches itself from her fingers to weaken celica's grip. though the physicality of the wounds leaves her, the feeling evoked upon receiving them does not, and so there is little to say when she prepares her stance once more, still clutching onto the scarred skin revealed beneath scorched and torn sleeves.

'i want her. let me kill her' nearly slips through her teeth before faux manners uplift the smile she remains wearing, into something near normal and cracked. instead, she addresses her team with as much enthusiasm as apathy can muster, "i had not the time to prepare a healing spell for you all. so preserve yourselves wisely."

@nohrslittleflower !

disturbing the peace — boel r1, battle 10

[motheruin]

THE GENERAL IS TOO KIND; everything the bishop once hoped to be and more, perhaps, though the root of this appreciation is swiftly forgotten the moment she finishes it. at first, she had not thought much of his shifting, simply maintaining his eye contact as best as she could before the strain of her vision lessened greatly. blinking rapidly, away goes the ache under her eyelids and the thrumming beneath her temple.

the arcs of the chandelier light slip over his shoulders, but not a dim beam touches her face. and, to that, eremiya offers a small smile, acknowledging but not much more than what it could be.

she is right. "ah. of course. you have the makings of a horseman." what does she mean by this? even she does not know. perhaps it is his manner of volume. or his outward strength. or he simply appears as a man who befriends a mount before a person. "the knight of seiros would have benefited from your offer, but either way, you aid the monastery."

others are stirring from their tables; the hosts are no longer dormant. thus, eremiya makes this quick. "confessionals. otherwise, i was hired to console the youth of the monastery, as well as be the mediator for families of the populace. i━━━"

the bell interrupts her. oh, how strange that time has passed this quickly. standing and smoothing her skirts, eremiya holds out a hand to duessel, bowing her head in farewell.

"thank you for the conversation, though it was brief. good day to you, sir duessel." a pause. "may the... the shadow dragon bring us together in the near future."

thread end !

♡ ・ we'll both end. / we'll both begin. ━━━ eremiya & duessel

EVENT: LOVE HYPOTHESIS 2024 / TOPIC: cleanliness of your room and your person.

[motheruin]

“You were well liked,” Hubert says as he hands Eremiya a pin that states plainly ‘likable individual’. “Your cooperation during this study was greatly appreciated. Thank you.”

“As for closing notes, it appears that some of your partners wish to speak with you again. One noted that you are pleasant in conversation, agreeable, and understand the importance of cleanliness.”

HOW UNFORTUNATE. upon being approached, eremiya had begun her retreat and, thus, was forced to withstand a few more moments in the dining hall. with squinting eyes and pursed lips, she mustered the remaining bits of courtesy to respond.

"wonderful," she said, quiet and strained, "there is no need to thank me. i signed myself into the event and, thus, would have to cooperate as necessary..." but still, she acknowledged the appreciation. the pin was taken, gently, and regarded with little interest. not for what it read, no, because she honestly could not read whatever was scribbled on it; the exhaustion blurring her gaze proved all attempts futile.

instead of trying, the bishop kept her focus on hubert's face. "ah. sir duessel." a kind man, truly. within her, she hoped to meet him again, someway darker, where she could truly provide the topic of interest her full, undivided attention. a shame that light despised her so.

"i give my hopes to... to the shadow dragon that those who wish it may meet me again."

and, with that, eremiya turned around and moved to the side of the assigned knight, ducking beneath the cloth that was held over her as they left.