princeofopenness

[princeofopenness]

♡ /perhaps using the muse who isnt in feh for this one is a bit mean.

●●○○○ | ATTRACTION ○○○○○ | AFFECTION ●●○○○ | INTEREST ○○○○○ | LOYALTY ●○○○○ | TRUST

Sin is certainly an unknown quantity for Alfonse, but he doesn't regard Sin as particularly complex by any means, at least from what little Alfonse knows of the man. This is partially due to how Sin presents himself, and therefore how Askr's records present Sin. He's someone who was there, but doesn't seem to be a particularly influential figure in the same way Sue is.

[princeofopenness]

♡ for zelkov please

@deadlyminded

●●●●○ | ATTRACTION ○○○○○ | AFFECTION ●●●○○ | INTEREST ○○○○○ | LOYALTY ●○○○○ | TRUST

Zelkov has the advantage of having just enough of a passing resemblance to Bruno to activate a desperate longing in Alfonse's mind, both by being tall, dark, and handsome, and by being just strange enough to intrigue Alfonse. That being said, Alfonse is still Alfonse, and opening up to people is something that terrifies him. Opening up to someone who he knows is primarily loyal to someone else is a prospect he is even less keen on than normal.

[princeofopenness]

Send ♡ to see what my muse thinks of yours

○○○○○ | ATTRACTION ○○○○○ | AFFECTION ○○○○○ | INTEREST ○○○○○ | LOYALTY ○○○○○ | TRUST

LOW | ●●●●● | HIGH

[princeofopenness]

The sigh of relief that left Alfonse upon hearing Bruno's words was visible throughout the prince's body. He seemed to deflate slightly as he did, tension leaving every fiber of his being at once. There was so much less to be worried about than he had anticipated (hardly surprising, given how prone to needlessly worrying he often was). Bruno knew who he was. It was indeed Bruno, and Bruno had been struggling with the exact same doubts as Alfonse. It put him at ease and validated him at the same time, two things Alfonse scarcely got to experience of late.

Fingers toyed with the hem of his father's cape as Alfonse tried to think of the best way to respond. How was he possible going to explain to Bruno everything that had transpired? Would he even believe that they had managed to finally bring peace between their nations? Such a notion surely would have been unbelievable years prior. Even when Bruno had left them, peace still seemed so far out of their grip, especially with nobles like Letizia so staunchly opposed to it.

"I do not know if it is wise to speak so openly of our home," Alfonse explained, a slight frown forced to crease his features despite his overwhelming desire to smile. "I've been trying to keep knowledge of Askr from spreading as much as I can. I assume many people here would be troubled to know of it."

But that was a wholly unsatisfying answer, Alfonse knew as much. Even if he intended to explain more to Bruno once he knew no other ears were listening in, it would be better to give the Emblan prince some kind of answer. Surely it would be cruel to leave Bruno without the knowledge he so desperately craved. After being away from the world for quite so long, there was much Bruno would want to know. If nothing else, assuring him of Veronica's safety (and leaving out the details of the assassination attempt) would be for the best.

"...Askr and Embla are at peace now, though," Alfonse explained, finally allowing that smile to cross his features, as it had threatened to this entire conversation. "Veronica has taken charge of Embla and brought an end to our war. She would be happy to see you, though, I'm sure."

➥ to cross paths, once again

[princeofopenness]

Alfonse's fingers idly traced the outline of the golden mask in his hands, the one he had commissioned it for the masquerade at the recent Ethereal Ball. It had felt so strange to wear, even though nobody present would have ever recognized the design. There were only two others from Askr even present at this Garreg Mach, after all, and as far as Alfonse knew, neither of them had been in attendance that night. Still, it was not his mask to wear, merely a token made in remembrance of someone important to him. It felt as though he was stealing a part of that man's identity.

As azure eyes gazed solemnly down at the mask, he felt as though it stared back at him. What that golden gaze held, he could not quite determine. Did the mask judge him for it, for this indulgent bit of sentimentality? Would he have been better off never crafting it? Was he only dredging up old wounds in doing so, renewing the pain that he had come close to finally burying? Even the little tribute he had tried to make felt hollow, felt wrong. Perhaps that was merely part of the nature of grief.

Funny. As Alfonse gazed out for a moment across the monastery grounds, he thought he caught a glimpse of the man his mask memorialized. His heart skipped a beat, even though he knew, rationally, that he must have been seeing things. His mind was playing tricks on him as he spent this moment reminiscing, it seemed. Perhaps he was more tired than he thought. Alfonse shook his head, trying to rid himself of his exhaustion for even the briefest of moments so he could view the world as it actually was.

...Yet there he stood, plain as day. Alfonse had not mistaken someone else for him, not like Alfonse had convinced himself he must have done. The longer he stared, the harder it became to see anything other than that man. But... no, that didn't make sense. Nothing about this most peculiar of Fódlans made much sense, but for him to appear... was he simply being taunted by this land?

Alfonse wanted to call out to the figure standing before the pond, but his words died in his throat, unable to leave his mouth at all. With eyes wide and shock written quite plainly across his face, Alfonse stood rooted to the spot as the two men locked eyes from across the field. When that voice reached his ears, a shiver ran down Alfonse's spine. It sounded so much like him.

Why did Alfonse have so much trouble believing this could be possible? He already knew this Fódlan had brought people together from across time, children meeting with their parents, Ylisseans standing alongside Archaneans. None of that should be possible outside of Askr, and yet it had already occurred here. Why, then, would someone out of Alfonse's own past be such a shock to him, so thoroughly unbelievable? Alfonse knew the reason before he even had a moment to interrogate the thought further. It was because Alfonse wanted it to be true too badly for such a thing to feel remotely possible.

"...What kind of question is that?" Alfonse finally managed to respond, frowning ever-so-slightly. "It's my job as pr--"

Alfonse barely managed to catch himself in time to stop the truth from spilling from his lips. He knew better than to go around discussing Askr so freely. It would only cause him problems if he spoke of his home to the wrong person. There remained a distinct possibility that this man was someone else, someone who just happened to look and sound almost identical to the one person Alfonse most longed to see here. Besides, there could always be other people listening in.

"...I, er, am under the employ of the Knights of Seiros at the moment," Alfonse corrected himself, trying his best to remain guarded despite how his heart screamed at him to be open, just this once. "Patrolling the monastery grounds is one of the most basic duties of the knights here, is it not?"

➥ to cross paths, once again

[princeofopenness]

"An anchor in the tossing sea"-- no, not at all. He had a turtle. She had the anchor.

Their awkwardness was mutual, though, which made it feel all the more normal. They both fumbled, they both got unnecessarily nervous at simple interactions, they were both stiff and poorly trained at socializing. When nobody else around had the same issues, it felt strange, isolating, and humiliating. When another person struggled in similar ways, however, it was validating; it was not simple one of them being awkward, but something that transcended them. Something more than just innate and individual failures.

Alfonse had a response prepared by the time Fiora finished speaking, but it almost immediately left his mind once she tacked on that last question. Thoughts of what he wanted from the ball abandoned him when he was forced to grapple with the fact he had come by himself, alone to a social event that expected you to bring a partner. What else could he have done, though? Who could he possibly have brought with him? Nobody at this Garreg Mach would want to accompany him. Well, Sharena notwithstanding.

"Er... n-no, I didn't," Alfonse admitted sheepishly, offering a nervous attempt at a smile to Fiora. "My sister is here, for what that's worth, but we came separately. Should we have coordinated outfits, do you think? That could have been a nice display of Askran culture... it's quite common for us to dress up for events, you see, and... well, my sister quite enjoys it. I probably should have asked her if she wanted to. It didn't even occur to me until now."

...He was getting sidetracked, wasn't he?

"...Er, what of you? Are you... by yourself tonight? Not that it's a bad thing if you are!"

Starved for Love

TOA Ethereal Ball ↪ Alfonse & Fiora

[princeofopenness]

Oh, that made sense in hindsight. Here Chyrses had assumed it to stand for "Masked Man". They could not shake the feeling that it spoke perhaps to a lack of creativity on their part (or, perhaps, a lack of faith in others' creativity), though they could find some solace in the fact that the nickname seemed to only fit if they were, indeed, Viscount Menja. Given the fact that Chryses was not the Viscount and was, as a result, already certain they were not the Viscount, they had simply failed to consider such a nickname would be applied to them.

For a moment, Chryses had to wonder if that was truly a nickname at all. After all, they did know of an August, one who, admittedly, had a personality and grand aspirations matching those displayed by the individual to whom they were presently speaking. They were fairly certain that that August was not in attendance, at least not to this masquerade. Chryses was unwilling to assume that there were not people in attendance of this ball that they hadn't even realized were at Garreg Mach at all. Even if someone had come here just for the ball and would depart for their home after, that would scarcely come as a shock. The allure of a masquerade in the company of political giants was one many would find enticing indeed.

"Very well," Chryses concurred, offering a small nod. "I accept your nicknames, Auguste. As for my stiffness, you'll have to forgive me, but I've no intention of discarding it. Actually, I'm not even sure I can. I've been acting like this so long that I'm not certain I know any other way to speak."

There was an easy excuse for the behavior, of course. Spending time in the company of nobles from an early age would breed that sort of forced cautiousness into almost anyone. Unfortunately, Chryses could not make such an assertion honestly. The fact that a lie would scarcely matter-- it was, after all, spoken to someone who did not know who Chryses was and may very well never meet them again-- did not make it any easier to be untruthful. Their conscience ever weighed heavy upon them, even in this peculiar situation.

"But you may speak as freely as you wish," Chryses added, offering a gentle smile to show they welcomed Auguste's honesty. "Do not take my reserved nature as discouragement. If this masquerade eases your spirits enough for you to drop such forced pleasantries, if it would feel better for you to do so, then I would not wish to rob you of that. Even if you gain nothing else from this night, I would be happy knowing I helped in some small way."

[princeofopenness]

Activity Check (May)

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[princeofopenness]

The implications of that statement following the wink flew right over Alfonse's head. He was too caught up in the way he narrowly avoided having to explain his situation of personally knowing (and slaying) deities. Nobody could approach the topic quite so casually as an Elyosian, after all, so it was lucky that Alfonse had made that little blunder with Fogado. After all, their deity hung out with them on a daily basis.

Now that he thought about it, he actually had no idea what Askr ate. They did offer food up to him sometimes, but was it actually of any meaning to their god? Alfonse had to imagine that a man of his size ate a considerable amount (to say nothing of his bovine form), but did he have the liberty of eating just anything? For all the things Alfonse had been taught about Askr in his youth, for all the time he had spent in the presence of both Askr and Ash, Alfonse hardly knew the first thing about Askr as a person. Quite shameful, given the friendly nature of the God of Openness. Surely he would have been happy to discuss it.

"Charms," Alfonse blurted out as he wrestled his thoughts back to the present. He'd been staring off into space as his mind wandered onto that little tangent and he knew it. It probably seemed for all the world like he hadn't been listening with the vacant expression he had no doubt been wearing. It was hardly Fogado's fault. Alfonse often found his mind wandering, especially following some kind of social blunder.

"Er-- I mean, did you need my charm?" Alfonse elaborated, a hint of pink spreading across his cheeks from self-inflicted embarrassment. "For the little game being played here. That's why you've put up with me being strange this long, right?"

Actually My Mom DID Make This Outfit For Me

[princeofopenness]

[ CAVES ] - There is a collection of caves that some on the beach might have ducked into in order to find cover from the elements. It’s cold, and you can hear the wind whistle as you huddle deep within the dark, waiting the storm out…

The evening of this ball has certainly been memorable for him so far. Reunions–both good and, unfortunately, ugly. A variety of things to see and things to do. He thought the enormous amount of guests and the grandiosity of it all would deter him from doing anything besides hop in for a drink or two.

Little did he know that just beyond the horizon, an incoming storm starts to brew… Literally.

BOOM! CRASH!

The downpour brings him unpleasant memories, and while he’s not one to fear many things–much less the elements themselves–the sound of relentless rain and thunder makes him run for the nearest form of cover he could find. Greil spots an opening within the nearby cliff and makes his way towards it, using his cape as a makeshift umbrella.

Upon heading into the cave, he makes a quick assessment of his surroundings. A snuffed out torch sitting in kicked up sand, two lounge chairs that are still in decent shape, and a small hole with a faint, warm light on the other side–presumably peeking into a cave system further in. 

He spots a figure maneuvering across the beach past flying beach decorations, trying to seek refuge. “Hey! Over here! Quickly!” They’re too far away for Greil to run over to cover them himself, but the least he can do is bring their attention to the cave so that they could join him.

Dark skies and pounding rain cloaked the figures of those struggling across the beach. Wet sand clumped around their feet, making each step more tedious than it ought to be. Soaked, exhausted bodies stumbled and fell, and Alfonse did his best to help them back to their feet, darting from person to person in his hurry to help as many as possible reach shelter. The conditions were dismal and quickly getting worse. The people needed refuge.

It was exhausting work to be certain. Only once Alfonse was the only one left on this stretch of the beach did he notice that he had become covered in clods of dirt and sand in the process. The outfit his mother had painstakingly crafted for him was soaked and filthy, his father's fur cloak matted. He looked miserable to be certain, dismayed and tired, worrying about the disappointment he would see in his mother's eyes when he returned the outfit to her ruined after a single outing in it.

A deep boom reached Alfonse's ears, though it was not thunder, but a thunderous voice calling out to him. Azure eyes turned upwards, focusing on the figure waving him over. A flash of lightning on the horizon briefly illuminated the man, though its brightness left him little more than a silhouette. Broad shoulders and strong features were all Alfonse could make out in the moment, and for just a second, he could only think of one man, the man whose muddied cloak was draped limply across his shoulders.

"F... Father?" He mumbled, stumbling closer. He had heard rumors of the king's ghost stalking Askr's castle grounds, but was it possible for him to have followed Alfonse to Fódlan?

No. It wasn't. Alfonse blinked, rubbing at his bleary eyes in a vain attempt to clear them. The act only pushed sand and salt into them, rewarding his attempt to see more clearly with blurrier vision and burning eyes. He shook his head, a small hiss of frustration leaving him as he stumbled blindly ahead.

"I-I can't-- where are you?" Alfonse shouted back, eyes shut tight against the self-inflicted pain. He forced his leaden feet to move forward, trying to head in the direction of the voice. It couldn't be Gustav, he knew that, but the image that lingered in his mind was of his father standing over him, shielding him from Hel when she had come to claim the consequences of the curse she had struck Alfonse with. He felt every bit as helpless as he had then.

[princeofopenness]

"Oh, my apologies."

The evening was wearing on her. To think that she had nearly fallen over another ballgoer? Disgraceful. Ishtar needed to pick up her skirts and go sit down. 

Good thing they were already near the refreshments. She picked up a stem of champagne and waited quietly next to the person she'd just nearly collapsed on. Pathetic, really. For a princess of Friege to be reduced to such.

"Would you like me to make it up to you?" she offered. "Perhaps a dance?"

The mage was only half serious, but it didn't matter. She was bored, and this could kill time. 

Alfonse had scarcely noticed Ishtar's approach until she was practically upon him. As she nearly collided with him, Alfonse's arms instinctively threw themselves in her direction. He stopped just shy of actually grabbing her to try and steady her, if only because she had stopped shy of actually hitting him. It was a small mercy he had managed to hold back even just that much. He certainly did not know the finer details of her past, more aware of what Arvis endured at Julius's hands than what Ishtar did, but he knew enough to know it probably was not pleasant. Having a man make sudden movements in her direction was something he did not imagine Ishtar would take well, at least not any better than most. Perhaps he was simply overanalyzing what he perceived as his own mistakes, but Alfonse knew no other way to improve than with such harsh self-critique.

"Ah?" Alfonse chirped, eyebrows raising. "You can dance when you aren't riding a wyvern?"

...Oh. That one was going to require some explaining. Or a lie to get himself out of it.

"...S-sorry, that-- that was mostly a reflex. It's about an inside joke I have with, er... with my sister. It's-- it's a long story. Er... do you need one of these turtle charms, by any chance?"

Yes, changing the subject was the best way to go. At the very least, it was the only remedy Alfonse could think of. Sure, it would draw some attention to his slip-up by being so eager not to discuss it, but maybe he could get away with pretending it hadn't happened.

[princeofopenness]

The fact that Alfonse's nervousness made anyone more relaxed would have been shocking to him. He would sooner have assumed it to be infectious, sapping at the confidence of anyone who had the misfortune of speaking to him. Maybe he would understand it if it were framed through the lens of it being validating, that whoever he was speaking to was not the only one feeling anxiety. Regardless, Alfonse had long been taught that a leader was to remain steadfast before his men. That was how his father had always done it, and Gustav would only be disappointed by how Alfonse was acting now, he was sure of that much.

...Well, his mother did often tell stories of his father being terribly clueless with her. No, no, that wasn't relevant at all-- it couldn't be!

"Actually, I'm really not--," Alfonse began, cutting himself off before he finished. No, better not to explain that this event did not constitute work for him. Brokering relations with anyone present at Garreg Mach right now would not benefit Askr in any tangible way (save, of course, for ensuring none of them tried to find a way to invade Askr, which was mostly managed by keeping it as secret as possible). After all, there was the distinct possibility Alfonse would never see a single one of these people ever again, at least not these specific versions of them.

"Er... I did not come here with anyone, no," Alfonse explained, changing topics hastily to avoid discussion of his country. "Well, my sister is also here, but we came separately. She didn't even know I was to be wearing this outfit mother made for me. I... don't think she came with anyone either, at least not as far as I'm aware. I hope she didn't. I haven't had the chance to vet anyone she would be bringing, and while I don't distrust her judgement, she is far more... free-spirited than I. She loves easily-- and trusts easily, too. I think she could make anyone with ill intent too remorseful to act on it with her personality, but I would rather it not come to that."

Starved for Love

TOA Ethereal Ball ↪ Alfonse & Fiora

[princeofopenness]

Though they were both unaware of the other's feelings, it seemed both Fiora and Alfonse had reminders of lost loved ones held close to their chests that night. One was worn more openly than the other's, indication of how much further in the healing process Alfonse was than Fiora. Perhaps it was also indicative of the differing kinds of closeness. Perhaps it was indicative of Alfonse being more distanced from his father than he was willing to admit now that Gustav had passed.

Alfonse had almost forgotten that most of the Knights weren't going to be attending for leisure as he had decided to. They weren't necessarily barred from doing so (at least as far as Alfonse was aware), but any who did not plan on being in attendance themselves were undoubtedly going to be assigned some kind of duties. The fact Fiora was wearing armor and not leisure attire of any sort was the first reminder Alfonse received of that fact. He couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt-- here he was enjoying himself (or at least trying to enjoy himself, given that this was hardly the type of scenario he really enjoyed to begin with) while Fiora was hard at work. It seemed every time they met, she was outdoing him as a Knight, showing just how much more work he ought to be putting in.

...Then again, maybe her example wouldn't be the healthiest one to follow.

"Oh-- er, thank you, Lady Fiora," Alfonse greeted her, offering a small smile in exchange. He couldn't help but curse himself internally as he did, though. He had already insisted she refer to him as only Alfonse. Greeting her formally would make it seem as though he were keeping her at arm's length... which, to be fair, he was, but only in the way he did with most everyone to whom he spoke. It wasn't something he wanted people to realize, anyway.

"You're not... ah, I mean it doesn't look like you came dressed for-- you're working. That's the observation I was getting to." Why couldn't he go even a moment without stumbling over his words when she was around? "I suppose you've not been given the time to let your hair down-- er, metaphorically, that is, since you're not really... you know what I mean to say."

Starved for Love

TOA Ethereal Ball ↪ Alfonse & Fiora

[princeofopenness]

[FASHION POLICE] Everyone here looks like they've put so much effort into their outfits. Which makes sense, truly-- this was THE social event of the year, from her understanding, and the students certainly wanted to make good impressions with or without their dates. Even the faculty enjoyed making a splash, with several of her colleagues dressed up in the gaudiest ensembles that she's seen in a long time... and that's saying something, considering she's forced to work with nobles on the regular. There's one that stands out in particular, though. The gold is absolutely blinding, and though the outfit itself looks nice enough... the guy's gotta be sweating in that. "Hey. Sorry, I haven't caught your name, but... Surely that's uncomfortable?" Shamir gives him a once-over, gaze trailing from his feet to his head. "Maybe I'm biased. I'm not a big fan of the beach." "I'm Shamir. One of the Knights. Technically, I'm here as staff, but I'm stealing the moments that I can. There's nothing of importance happening." Yet, she neglects to say. It's only a matter of time until a fight breaks out, or someone goes and drowns in the ocean. "C'mon. Get out of that cloak. You're going to burn to death."

The presence of his father's cloak and the warmth it provided had become something Alfonse scarcely even paid attention to after how long he'd been wearing it. He was already well accustomed to wearing clothing that was perhaps a bit too warm for the climate. He scarcely wore anything less than his full battle regalia most places he went, if only because being prepared for a fight was often a necessity regardless of the reason for which he was traveling. Once his father passed, Alfonse's regular cape had (eventually) been permanently replaced by the fine fur cloak Gustav had always worn, something to always remind Alfonse of the expectations he needed to meet.

Alfonse's eyebrows raised at Shamir's greeting. He knew who she was, of course. He knew exactly how she felt about the beach as well, though he would prefer not to have to explain why he knew that. Really, bringing that up at all would just lead them down a conversational path that Alfonse did not particularly wish to tread. "Oh yes, I've seen you in a bikini many times before" was not a particularly good way to begin a conversation with someone who didn't know anything about you.

"Ah, I-- it's really not that bad," Alfonse sighed, fingers idly stroking the soft fur of the cloak, his bangle for the ball jingling softly with its turtle charm. "It's my father's, actually. I'll... spare you the details of what it means to me-- what he meant to me. That's really not a good first impression to make, is it? Suffice to say that it's rather important to me... but also that, er, this attire was not designed with the beach in mind. Formal parties, yes, but not for one so..."

Alfonse sighed, casting his gaze at the scenery around them. The salty sea air and ocean spray were likely going to be nothing but terrible for the fine fabrics his clothing was made of. The stiffness of his outfit certainly didn't suit a more laid-back setting like the beach, either. At least he wasn't going to be required to swim. He couldn't imagine that being anything but a miserable experience with the outfit he had on. Good thing nothing bad was going to happen that would force him to do that! Say, why did the clouds on the horizon look so foreboding?

"...Wet. I also wasn't aware I was going to have to wear this little charm, either. If I'd known, I'd probably have tried to coordinate colors with the charm and my outfit... but I suppose us not knowing about them was intentional, wasn't it? ...Sorry, I got a bit distracted there. Alfonse. Pr-- er, just Alfonse right now, I suppose. I am also a member of the Knights of Seiros, actually, though obviously we've not had the privilege of working together as of yet."

[princeofopenness]

The notion of being "adorable" was one Alfonse would have balked at, though he never would have guessed such a thought to cross Thrasir's mind. If he had been told that it did, he would have assumed it to be meant in a condescending way. The notion that she could potentially ever hold some kind of affection to him was still one that he would not consider without significant effort. Even though he considered Veronica a friend, Thrasir remained largely her own entity in his mind, every bit as unreachable as he initially assumed her younger counterpart to be. Líf was as well, though that had more to do with Alfonse's familiarity with himself. He knew exactly how stubborn he could be, and Alfonse's penchant for self-loathing, when magnified with the desire to save those he loved and an exterior self to project it onto, was a force Alfonse did not particularly wish to contend with.

The bangle of charms on Alfonse's wrist jingled softly as Alfonse's hand moved, mostly drowned out by the sounds of music and of feet tapping across the dance floor. His eyes were briefly drawn to it, a reminder that this little soirée had its little challenge to complete. He wondered, for a moment, if his wearing the bangle might have made his offer to dance seem hollow. Would Thrasir think he was only after her charm, and not after genuine connection? He did not want to seem anything other than friendly for the sake of being friendly. Perhaps he ought to have removed the bauble before asking her to dance, though the opportunity for that was passed.

He would just have to press onward. Alfonse carefully led Thrasir out towards the dance floor, taking care to keep a healthy distance from any of the other pairs. He knew how much space this dance could take up, but the others were significantly less predictable. Better not to have one of them cross into his path at an inopportune moment. If he accidentally injured Thrasir during an attempt to help her relax, he might never forgive himself. Keeping to the fringes of the pack might also be for the best, since he assumed Thrasir would not want them to gather attention from others.

"Would you prefer I lied to you?" Alfonse countered, gingerly pulling Thrasir towards him. He stepped back in the same motion, an indication of how the dance began that required no words; they were to approach and retreat from one another back and forth, akin to the motion of the waves that surrounded them.

"I assumed honesty was the better way to proceed. You deserve that, if nothing else."

A Dance With Death

[princeofopenness]

Well, it was really only fair Fogado got to make some kind of comment about Alfonse's mother after the latter's inquiry about Queen Seforia designing Fogado's outfit. He'd only himself to blame for it. Fogado's laughter made it far easier to brush off, though, making it clear that it had been a comment made lightheartedly. The laughter even infected Alfonse, someone who rarely, if ever, laughed genuinely. On the rare occasion Alfonse did laugh, it was usually bitter, not cheerful-- Fogado might not have realized the accomplishment he had just managed.

"Ah, I'm sure she'd be flattered by that if she were here to hear you say it," Alfonse assured the other prince, offering a much easier smile than anything he had worn during the initial stages of their conversation. "But it's really just a hobby for her... though I suppose she has had quite a lot of time and opportunity to develop her talents at it. We've seamstresses under our employ as well, but she delights in designing costumes for her family to wear together, and I just wouldn't have the heart to take that joy from her."

...Though circumstances didn't quite have the same thoughtfulness Alfonse had in that regard. He could only assume that making matching family outfits would be a bittersweet ordeal for Henriette now that she no longer got to design them for Gustav as well. Alfonse had heard more than once about how Henriette insisted they dress up for dates together in their youth.

"I... well, I wouldn't say we put on the ceremonies," Alfonse stated, a finger idly toying with the tassels attached to the pins the kept his cape clasped over his shoulders. "But I suppose I can't really say my family isn't involved, either. It's just a tradition of our people. I believe it goes back to the founding of our nation, if not earlier... Askr himself has-- had-- quite a fondness for such gatherings. Er, Askr is the god our nation worships, you see. Um... I don't say this as conjecture or a matter of faith or anything, I've met... n-never mind, that's-- that's a story for another time. Don't worry about that part."

Probably better not to discuss his disillusionment with the concept of gods right now. That was too heavy a topic for a ball.

Actually My Mom DID Make This Outfit For Me

[princeofopenness]

@willowitxh (continued from here!)

Despite Alfonse's anxieties about social endeavors, despite his worries of Thrasir's potential hostility towards him, despite the fact that Alfonse was actually quite terrible at dancing, he found himself with a small smile on his face. He had not expected himself to be able to stir genuine joy in Thrasir. To be fair, it was hardly his own doing-- he had merely explained the circumstances of his own world to her. Still, maybe he had a bit more hope for making a friend than he thought he did. Maybe Thrasir was not quite as unreachable as he had initially thought. Funny, he had gone through the exact same thought process with Veronica previously, hadn't he?

Alfonse wasn't quite certain what he had expected from Thrasir's hand, but something that felt anywhere akin to flesh was not it. Even if it had been rock hard, if it had felt like ice beneath his fingers, if it had felt like nothing at all, he would still have been less surprised. The fact that whatever matrix made up her body was supple in a similar way skin was felt viscerally wrong to Alfonse's mind, and he had to fight to keep that from appearing in his expression. It would be more than a bit disrespectful to grimace as his dance partner took his hand, after all. His other hand moved to her shoulder, hovering gingerly above it as he watched Thrasir's face carefully for anything resembling permission to touch her.

"I must warn you," Alfonse confessed, "I've not taught someone to dance before. I've always been the one being taught until now."

Expectations had been set, though, and that was the important part. She knew he might be bad at this-- ironic, considering that it was the dance of his own culture and nobody else's (except for his sister, of course). Hopefully that wouldn't be too disappointing to her, though. He couldn't imagine she had high expectations of him... or perhaps she did. Maybe she danced all the time with Líf. He'd never really asked, now that he thought of it.

"...I will warn you, though," Alfonse added on hastily, "one of the dancers is expected to take a much more active role than the other-- it's, er, meant to reflect Askr and Embla's powers of opening and closure, in that regard. I, ah... I will have to throw you into the air at one point. Well, sort of. It's meant to just look like I am. You'll actually be jumping at the same time to give that illusion."

A Dance With Death