pirrhyc - Tumblr blog

[pirrhyc]

[The reply, meanwhile, is written in large, unsteady figures, not unlike a child's own script when just beginning to learn how to write.]

Dear Citrinne,

I am sorry for how long this letter took to write. If you are angry with me, thinking I might have forgotten, I understand. I actually saw your letter and got so intimidated that I got stressed out at the thought of writing anything back, but then the professor hounded me, telling me I needed to. It was a pretty scary experience actually.

Oh, but I don't mean to make you feel bad. As you can tell, I'm not really used to writing. I know I should get better at it, but your handwriting is so nice and it's obvious you learned it much earlier than me. It reminds me of the handwriting of some pretty scary senators.

Not that I am trying to imply you are the same as them. I am sorry.

To answer your question, I have only written like this twice before. I wrote it to accompany a gift once, and the other time it was part of an apology since I did not have the courage to see someone in person. I have never been consistent about it. I am not amazing at talking, but I think I am better at it than I am writing.

I only really learned how to write to be able to write and sign documents, but I was pretty miserable at that. If it was with a friend though, maybe I would like writing more.

If this letter makes you feel miserable reading it, I can ask the faculty to swap you to a more fitting partner. My apologies.

Pelleas

if garreg mach had whatsapp 😂

non-mission task: affluence (pen pals)

[pirrhyc]

      Another Ethereal Ball comes and goes, but somehow, the clean-up for this one feels all the more laborious. Having been roped into it against his will as penance for all the times he has skipped lectures, Pelleas had miserably mopped up marinara sauce and errant drink spills...

But to his surprise, at the end of it all, they provide him with some kind of reward— as if this wasn't a punishment all along. In his hands is a voucher for a specific something, one he stuffs into his pocket, figuring he might use it another time or forget about it altogether.

Today was ready to continue to surprise him however.

“ Oh, Minerva...! ”  Now that the Ethereal Ball was done with, he can see that the woman was no student (not that he expected it) but still, she had seemed to be helping out with the cleaning anyhow.  “ Yes, that's me... I'm surprised you remembered me, admittedly. ”

Not only that, but that she remembered her promise to buy him something to make up for his shoes if that coupon in her hand was any indication.

“ Ah, so you still feel guilty about that, I see. ”  If even a good night's sleep hadn't gotten her to forget it, then she really must be serious.  “ Very well then. Since I just finished my part of the cleaning, I can go right now if that works for you? ”

a promise is a promise! | Minerva + Pelleas

Every year it’s the same: there is a need for voluntolds– ahem, volunteers– to clean up after the Ethereal Ball has rung its last, and this iteration is no exception. Between food fights and burn marks, there is much to tend to. Worried about being shorthanded, the Church has come up with a fun little game: the more you clean, the more points you rack up! At the end, those with the most points can supposedly look forward to a reward, although… No one really knows what the exact reward in question is supposed to be…

[pirrhyc]

    “ ...If it was a problem that only I had to deal with, then it would have been worth it, ”  Pelleas decides in the end, deathly serious.  “ Of course, having no problems at all would be preferable, but I would go through hell on my own than fail another person who looks to me with great expectation. ”

It is even stronger when it is someone you love. That was true of many situations, the things people do for the sake of those that are extra special to them. Pelleas had argued this once, but even when it applies to himself now, his stance does not change.

It only further cements what he believes in.

“ ...I apologize for the trouble I caused you. I really do. I know very well the troubles of being coerced to a situation you had never wanted or anticipated. But antagonizing me over it... ”  Pelleas grimaces.  “ I do not see how you think of yourself any better than me. Why torment me and not the person who put you up to it...? Aren't we both to blame?! ”

Whoa. Andrei takes an involuntary step back at the sheer, sudden intensity of Pelleas' tirade, the intensity of his glare faltering slightly despite his best efforts.

The man had said something to a similar effect when they had met on the battlefield, as well, even though it had been cut short by his defeat. Clearly, he is someone who is plenty capable of jumping to the worst conclusions even without outside assistance, and a part of Andrei almost feels bad about repeatedly driving him to such a state.

Key word being 'almost'. Crossing his arms, he turns his head away with a huff at the reminder of the circumstances surrounding the previous year's event.

"I had my name forcibly entered into that event against my will from the very beginning," he says, "And then you proceeded to coerce my participation under threat of impersonation and damage to my reputation. I should think I have a right to take offense to that."

Even now, he's unsure whether Pelleas would've truly made good on the threat, had he not complied. Whether there is still the possibility of it being put into motion, if a similar circumstance presents itself.

"You do not even know the first thing about me." There is no clearer proof of that than Pelleas' earlier words. "Any of your attempts at stealing my identity would only end in miserable failure, and then there would've been even more trouble. Did you ever consider that problem?"

If he hadn't, then hopefully he would before thinking to do such a thing again in the future.

[pirrhyc]

      Seeing the twins speak to one another is like witnessing poetry in motion. It's indescribable the way it all comes together, leaving Pelleas astonished even after Nel has parted.

It's Rafal's words that remind Pelleas that this was not a scene just for the two siblings however.  “ Ah, r-right! ”  he startles.  “ Thank you. ”

Where to begin?

“ ...In truth, I had been very weak and unwanted when I was young. I had grown up in a very competitive place, passed over constantly. Envious of what others had, I sought the strength to survive no matter what... but this power corrupts the soul. Despite that, I wish to keep it.

“ When people learn this about me, they try to change me— to save me. They say I don't need power. They'll protect me now. But to people far stronger than me, how could they understand? Never ridiculed for being weak... ”  Against his better judgment, Pelleas's words come out bitter.  “ I know they are being kind, but... I can't stand the thought of being powerless, when power is all I have ever had as my own. I would rather keep it but not lose myself to the parts of me that are rotten. ”

@rafent !

to be weak, to be strong

[pirrhyc]

      Privately, Pelleas marvels at Farina's strength as she picks up the passed out instructor and hauls him up onto her back. Agh, should he have offered to have done that first considering what he had done to the man? But before he can ask, letting his guilt overtake him, Farina cuts through that, taking command of the situation.

But more than that, she also gives him a ray of hope.

“ That's true... I suppose I've at least proven I can deal with a pretty tough situation, haven't I? ”  In a brutal way, one might claim, but it was a solution all the same, and sometimes, one could not afford to choose their methods. His home's militant focus on strength acclimates himself better to this pep talk, but even if he hadn't had that background, the fact Farina can grin and laugh about it was a great boon too.

If it had been anyone else, someone who yelled and scolded at him for this all, he might have crumpled in on himself, accepting the admonishment and internalizing it for weeks. But Farina's easy-going way of handling it, acknowledging the situation without outright coddling him...

...It was nice. A breath of fresh air against those who smothered him and those who ridiculed him.

“ Pick myself up and try again, ”  he repeats quietly to himself, letting them chase away the dark clouds around his spirit. And for that, his expression really does brighten, the tension that had been taking him prisoner releasing at last as he follows after her.  “ Thank you, Farina, truly. You weren't obligated to be nice to me, and I don't know quite why you were, but... I really do appreciate it. ”

How to deal with a Panicking Mage - Farina and Pelleas

[pirrhyc]

    “ Even the same portions at meal times? ”  It was a devotion to mimicry that Pelleas couldn't imagine being comfortable with, yet Leo admits to having done it all the same once upon a time even if no longer. But it does make Pelleas wonder.

Is that how having a sibling is meant to be?

It is a thing he has always envied, but it is a thing he shall never have and never shall be comfortable having, he thinks. Not as he is. Leo has broken free of his brother's shadow, but he does not voice a discomfort with him. No, there was a degree of admiration, Pelleas thinks, that could be detected from such a speech about how he carved Leo into who he is today.

If it had been Pelleas, he would have been even more rueful at the end most likely.

But Leo sweeps those thoughts aside, beckoning Pelleas to continue the ride as before.  “ Ah! Yes, I think so... or, well, I do not fear the consequences if it goes wrong. ”

He needs to get better at this, and that starts with being willing to test bumpy roads. Although he does add after the fact,  “ ...though if things go wrong, I admittedly do feel more at ease knowing you'll be there to take care of me. ”

Perhaps a bit pathetic of him to admit, but for as strong as he wishes to be, there is a part of him still that needs to rely upon others. But the way Leo speaks, of protection and mindfulness, being at the ready to assist him, it didn't strike Pelleas as if the Nohrian minded that part of his personality.

(To think, Leo still could view Pelleas in such a nice light at all...)

The dark sage mulls over his claim: that all the things Pelleas has done so far required effort even if he hadn't thought of it before. Perhaps it held a grain of truth to it, given the nature of how easily dark magic could go awry...

...but it would be a thought he'd have to think on more over time. For now, to become a Dark Knight, he had to learn how to ride upon horseback, and the time for that lesson was now.

“ Of course, I hope things do not go that far. After you, Leo! ”

                                                                    — the end.

shadowing

[pirrhyc]

      Of the passengers that boarded the ship, one was Pelleas, whom Marianne had encountered many moons ago. A wallflower at heart but one who yearns for company all the same, he avoided the heart of the others who had boarded the ship for a joy ride, instead keeping to the side and observing all the others present...

...but that means he was watching over the conversation that took place between Marianne and the Margrave Edmund as a result.

When the older man departs, Marianne makes no private display of her anguish, startling Pelleas enough to drive him to action.

Approaching her, he begins to speak softly,  “ Um... Sorry, Marianne. I, erm, feel as if I shouldn't have seen you do that or have that conversation. But I also felt guilty watching it and not saying anything admittedly. ”

...Actually, maybe he should've kept his mouth shut. He's already beginning to regret saying all this, actively cringing as he thinks over all the words he's already said. Still, no matter how awkward or guilty he might've felt, curiosity still nags at him and compels him to overstep and ask:

“ Was that man your father? ”  He wasn't aware of Marianne's surname and thus couldn't make the conclusion via that more obvious clue, but...  “ ...My mother spoke to me like that often, so that's why I ask. If I'm wrong, my apologies. ”

I Have Not Yet Begun to Fight

[pirrhyc]

    “ Ah, so you know of the drawbacks to casting dark magic. ”  Perhaps he colored it in a way more... vibrant than Pelleas might have, but the essential part, the loss of control, was clearly understood.

“ I'm surprised you think that though. If you have such confidence, you'd be well protected against at least one weakness for dark magic to pry upon. Before I had become a dark mage, I had thought I was pretty confident myself, though not nearly as much as you. ”

He would have never called himself amazing, but he hadn't realized how insecure he was. How easy it was before to reach out to another so recklessly, before he had sought out the power he has now.

“ ...If you're certain you're talented, you have no need for dark magic though, ”  he warns.  “ You should take your troubles casting it and heed it well then. ” 

get to know you

         ⤷   non-mission task:   showcase  ( riding +1 )

[pirrhyc]

      If one cannot defeat a foe using conventional means, then one must simply find a nonconventional one. Although his spells and this man's swings haven't been working and neither have any traps laid out by the Knights, there was still something in Pelleas's arsenal...

“ Th-Thank you for waiting! ”  he calls out to the man he accompanied: one Beowolf. He's the rugged and suave type from what little Pelleas could tell, seeing the man's swagger, and, well, that on top of the fact he's the one with the technical authority in the situation between them, Pelleas being a mere student following the mercenary...

...He's a bit on edge, admittedly, as if he might have something to prove.

“ I admit I, um, haven't really had much chance to use this yet in a practical situation, but I thought this might help. ”  And at that, he swings the large, metal yet portable cannon he had lugged with him to be positioned between him and the blond. It bears a sleek design, and despite its great heft, it was designed to be wielded with only one hand. The moment Pelleas lets go of it, the bright blue diamond shapes decorating it lose their shine, seemingly going inactive without a magic user's grasp on it.  “ I can assure you though it works! It's a bit unwieldy at close range, but... far away, it really is something! ”

@sayhwaet !

and my glock

         ⤷   mission task:  affluence  ( any skill +1 )

[pirrhyc]

It is nice, isn't it? She can understand that much.

Whether he intends it or not, there's a wittiness to his responses that she enjoys. Clever and well-meaning. She can't help it. Genuine laughter bubbles forth at what he says next.

"That's very sweet of you to say. I don't think I've ever heard anyone put such a positive spin on it before." The earnest demeanor is charming. It's not every day she encountered someone so enthusiastic about the mundane.

"...Rings?" She smiles. "So you're a jewelry aficionado! I can appreciate that. Granted, I don't know what you dress like just yet, but if you're choosing to pair your look with rings every day...well. That sounds like effort, doesn't it?"

She comes to a graceful pause once the final notes of the waltz drift through the opulent ballroom. Somewhat reluctantly, she releases his hands and reaches for the brooch as promised. "For you," she says with a curtsy. A grin follows as she extends it to him. "Furthermore, I'd like to bestow upon you the distinction of most interesting dance partner. I daresay you've set the bar high tonight. I do hope we get to meet again sometime...without the masks." 

[pirrhyc]

MAY ACTIVITY CHECK

Status: Passed Skill Points Gained: 1

Activity Check - Any +1 ➜ allocated to Heavy Armor +1

Skill Changes:

Heavy Armor - C+ ➜ C+ ( 1⁄2 )

Learned/Obtained:

Completed Brooch Whisper of Ivy

[pirrhyc]

      Goddess, you wear his horrid face. To Pelleas's clear points made, the other man speaks in ambiguities. But a soul need not speak clearly to communicate what it is they recoil at.

Pelleas had uncovered a mystery before without any confirmation at the end. To be presented with a tangled web and then do the work of unwraveling it yourself was rewarding to some; to a shaman, it was business as usual, for no magic required a will to force oneself through uncomfortable truths, dressed in confounding ways, more than that of the deepest and darkest of them all.

To seek power is to seek knowledge.

To be strong is to withstand the truth.

A man of Goldoa who knows what this mantle means, who expresses his disgust at the face that Pelleas wears not for being the miserable child he was but instead for the child of who he once wished to be.

Pelleas need not lift a finger to make a stand, to build a presence that makes people have an opinion of him far more than pity but instead fear— a mark of the strong, a man on top of the world when before he has constantly felt at the bottom.

How odd it is, to have long searched for this quality, and yet to not know what to do with it when he finally has found it.

The laguz (as he's fairly certain of by this point) absconds from the scene, and as his white feather touches Pelleas's shoulder, it feels as if something more pure than Pelleas's tainted soul deserves has brushed against him.

He grabs it, looking down upon it, muttering quietly for no one to hear but himself:

“ Mother... ”

If she had seen him now, would she have told him this is how things should be? For what it means to be a scion?

For nobody respects a weak man, no matter how much he is loved.

                                                                    — the end.

’ Lady Almedha ‘ …

A yearning to refute it — the very notion, the very origin of all disasters to follow thereafter — rises to the tongue, but he bites it, withholds it, cages it like the rabid creatures those words of his have become ( those broken tools of relations, lost to something dreadful as a poison in hardy veins ).

The frail feather lifts on loose wind, and bones aflame snatch it from the air — it is haply his vendetta that he claims what he mustn’t, but the flame of ire and the might of his kin has been stripped from him, and he can but glower upon the hanging words.

‘ Fourteenth king of Daein ‘ …

“That is not for you to know,” He bites, clutching at his beating chest — a miracle that it beats ; a terror that it beats so hastily — so far from his control ( but when last had something been his own to command as fit ? ) “Goddess, you wear his horrid face.”

The navy and the mantle, but none of the tyrant’s strength. But ghosts hid in faces passed on, and the most wretched spirit haunted the beorc’s — that madman’s spawn.

He lets free a feather, and if it should wander into the hands of his enemy’s heir, his eyes would turn blind ( for what more harm could a son do that his father had not already done to Goldoa’s eldest? )

“Stay away from me.”

So he leaves, no words left, and keeps his back guarded with a careful, pinpoint eye.

Rajaion has obtained a White Feather from Pelleas! Rajaion has given Pelleas a White Feather!

[pirrhyc]

      To be told he was kind and to be bowed to even! He squirms a little, uncertain how to take this, but he understands it was likely not sarcastic and didn't mean anything ill in this moment, as much as his first instinct was to assume as such.

“ Minerva... ”  he repeats her name after her, trying to memorize it. The woman cut an intimidating figure, deadly but bold in her matching scarlet dress, but yet she had been nothing but compassionate and apologetic in this brief encounter.

Though she did begin to match his image of her that he conjured up, insistent in her kindness. Intimidating women, even when they loved and were tender, tended to still manifest their power in some ways. He had learned that lesson well in his Kingship.

“ A-An entire new pair of shoes? I don't know if you need to go that far... ”  Compared to her striking image and presence that commanded attention, Pelleas could feel himself shrinking into himself, voice so much weaker. Still, he tries to not fade into the shadows entirely.

After all, that is what he donned this outfit for: to force himself to begin to stand tall on the same stage as everyone else.  “ ...But I'll put it into consideration and remember you for certain if it makes you feel better. I can give you my word on that. That also is the least I can do... ”

And to start, he meets her at her word, exchanging his brooch decoration for hers as an equal might instead of running away.

                                                                    — the end.

She sketched a smirk, really not expecting that reaction from a stranger, especially after she partially ruined the enjoyable evening of that guest. Plus, he offered her a part of his brooch, emphasizing the fact he wasn’t mad at all and on the contrary, he seemed grateful for her not being mad. The world was rotating on the opposite direction thus far, on Minerva’s mind.

She kindly accepted the feather, while exchanging her black feather: the contrast between the two light object was very consistent, since they seemed so different exteriorly, yet both so pure in the heart. “You’re very kind and I accept your returning kindness” she bowed her head a little, “I’m Minerva, a pleasure meeting you” and not satisfied with her response, she added, “Please, ask about me when you need to buy another pair of shoes!” she sounded a bit insisting, but she just wanted to be respectful and gentle.

“It’s the least I can do”

[pirrhyc]

      The girl with the long-flowing hair has always seemed so placid compared to him, tempered to be able to wield even the deepest of arcane spells. That she expresses humility now...

If not to wield the strongest dark magic, then what was that demeanor for?

“ I don't know if I believe that. But even if it were true, if you applied yourself, I am sure you would be more capable of wielding more dangerous spells than me, ”  he returns this game of deflection at her. It is modesty to some, but Pelleas sharpens modesty like one does a knife's edge.  “ With the way I am... there's only so far I can go while remaining who I am, unfortunately. ”

Even if one might call him a master of his craft, he feels as if there is always power just outside of his reach— borne from the limits of what it means to not be special enough to be chosen by the spirits but instead be forced to bargain with them instead.

The two of them remain in this state of being in the same pond but not creating the same ripples, and it is at last at the mention of their differing lifespans that Pelleas's eyes widen, unnerved by the implication.

“ ...You sound so certain of it. As if... you know you will most definitely outlive me. ”

It was a fact that would be true of most. Those he would outlive were vastly outnumbered by those he would leave behind. However, no one should be quite so certain of this without him telling them.

Least of all, someone he had thought was just like him.

“ I... I don't understand. ”

Even in the times he was wrong before, in the times he learned the truth, there was no trace of dark magic to keep his incorrect theory afloat before. But the girl before him did not need to cover her feathers in tar to get what it was she had in her hand.

The white feather in his hand suddenly feels all the more damning to have.

He exchanges it with hers, eager to be rid of it, but on a quivering voice, he still cannot help but ask:

“ If we are so different, th-then why... why is it you understand what I fear...? ”

Who gave you what makes you what you are?

(For Pelleas believes that the chicken cannot exist without the cells that make it first.)

magic for your switch

         ⤷  ethereal ball 2024 interaction.

[pirrhyc]

@reddragonprincess sent:  [ Mulled wine ] - Warm red wine spiced to perfection, ideal for staving off winter’s chill. The evening was becoming a bit frigid by the time passing hour after hour and what a better idea to warm up the heart and the body with some fine spiced wine? Yet, she has been drinking for way too long by herself, she wanted to find someone good for a little talk or maybe for something more… spicy like the wine? She began to roam around the tables, aimlessly searching for someone new or someone familiar, until she bumped into a very elegant red cape, all finely decorated with a white fur on the border and definitely highlighting the heritage of the person wearing it. For some incredible miracle, Minerva did manage to avoid pouring the glass of wine on the cape, but the bump did certainly made something else –his feet! “Ow, I’m so sorry dear!” she blurted, looking more apologetic than her usual self, “Can I give you something in return to excuse me for my rudeness?” she looked down at her chest and confidently removed her brooch. “Here, a token of forgiveness”  ( prompt. )

    “ I-It's really nothing to be so worried about, ”  Pelleas tries to reply, startled to see someone be so apologetic to him of all people.  “ Honestly, I might be one of the better people to have spilled it on, all things considered, as I'm sure other people would've caused a bigger fuss about it, and, well, my boots can handle it... If anything, you did a pretty good job at missing everything on me that actually would've shown it. It's almost impressive... ”

His mutterings fade out as he looks down at his own boots. Fortunately, it also spilled on something dark in color, so it wasn't even really noticeable except where it touched the wing-shaped clasps. Still... it's fine.

“ But, um, thank you for being considerate towards me anyway even though you could've just gotten mad at me. I really am grateful for that, ”  he admits. After a moment, he takes his white feather and holds it out for the crimson woman.  “ How about a trade instead? As a nod to your kindness? My name is Pelleas. ”

[pirrhyc]

@madnessbefallen sent:  [ Fireflies ]  Their light is soft and their glow a consolation, for the night brought with it the taxation of mingling and the want of a weak man to live as if the world had been right. They flutter and hum in the dusk-falling eve, and they tickle against scarred skin. And keen ears - muffled, hard of hearing now - perk when sounds collect therein, and he turns, and terror seizes fleeting peace. ... That cape ... It cloaks with its scarlet and its fur a face foreign to him, but the cloak is the same as it was - that horrid, swaying mantle belonged to that terrible beorc. A looming shadow that made darker the darkest hours. "Who are you?" Rajaion demands, but his voice wavers - cracks like the aches in his bones so often do. Fists form from the fire in quaking veins, and teeth clench together. "Why do you wear that mantle?"  ( prompt. )

( FE10 spoilers )

      Perhaps to be a King of Daein is to be surrounded by lives that are nothing more than fleeting. This had been the fate of the two kings prior to him, had been his own fate too— the machinations of a curse forged in blood. These lights are not his subjects, never were, but they remind him keenly of how easy it is for one's life to extinguish, of how it felt to be surrounded by this on all sides in grim understanding.

That he ruled not over prosperous cities but instead a country on a cumulative death sentence.

His reflection is interrupted, the light of the lightning bugs fleeing, when a stranger accosts him. Who, he demands, and it is clear he recognizes the mantle that cloaks Pelleas's shoulders.

Who, Pelleas might ask in return, but with features such as that distinctive red mark, that dark verdant hair, that sun-kissed skin, he feels as if he can wager a guess.

“ I presume you are of Goldoa. Specifically... that you must relate to Lady Almedha, if you recognize what it is I'm wearing. But that you weren't present for my coronation... for when she found me. ”

He'd be blind to not notice the discontent in that countenance, bleeding into that wavering voice— accusatory but riddled with emotion just as the woman who called him her son had been.

He had to tell himself to be strong in front of her when their end had come. He tells himself this here now too.

“ My name is Pelleas. I am the fourteenth king of Daein. ” A feather looses from his brooch, fluttering in the wind, as transient and fragile seeming as all the tiny lights around them. A voice attempts to find its strength to stand, but the feather reveals the shaman for who he is: that for all he tries to coat himself in the colors of his predecessors, he cannot change who he is, pathetic looking thing underneath of it. “ ...And you? ”

[pirrhyc]

All's well that ends well!

                                                                    — the end.  

"...Huh?"

The heck's up with this guy? She threatened him, so what's he laughing for? Sure, she did hand over her axe upon entry and she's not wearing her usual armor, but she's still pretty intimidating, isn't she? People used to tremble in fear when they saw her coming! People used to run inside their houses and hide if they saw the youngest of the Hounds coming!

But this guy is laughing?

"No, I AM scary!" Marni insists, but it's already too late. He's already made up his mind about her. "I used to—"

...Maybe she should kick his shin? He's certainly not the tallest man she's ever met (not even the tallest man she's met tonight), but she still has to crane her neck to look up at him when he stands up to his full height, which is annoying. Anything to get him back down to her level instead of looking down at her.

But even those half-formed plans are foiled. She gets what she wants and the loser hands over his feather brooch, but it isn't satisfying at all. He doesn't even grovel a tiny bit, just to humor her. Moreover, he filches her own brooch while he's at it!

"Hey, no fair! I never said you could take that!" She reaches up to take the brooch back, but even if she stands on tiptoes, it's just out of reach. "No fair, no fair! Get back down here!"