purrlay

[purrlay]

november activity check: passed!

skill points: 6->7

gauntlets: D+->C

obtained: pending

[purrlay]

[purrlay]

Ranulf hadn’t been told about the birds in the mission briefing. They’re no laguz or anything, closer to wyverns or pegasi, but damn, they’re smart. And mean, too! They give his feline self a wide berth at least, but the beorc who train them have no such advantage. Still, this little village lives in relative harmony with the huge, murderous featherbags, their children even playing with them! It’s not something Ranulf understands, but he respects it. Hard not to.

An ear-piercing scream cuts the air, and Ranulf turns to see a young beorc pinned to the ground by a particularly cantankerous bird. Wait, no. That’s not right. That’s…a laguz? Maybe? She smells and looks almost exactly like someone from the Wolf tribe, but a few things are off. Huh. Still, he’s not the type to leave a girl in danger, and from the glimpses of her outfit he can catch, she seems to be a fellow student as well. Oh, brother.

“Lay off, will ya?” Ranulf walks toward the bird. Hopefully it’ll back off like the rest have, though they weren’t pissed five ways to Sunday.

Fortunately for the wolf girl, the bird releases its grip on her. Unfortunately for the cat man, the bird’s beady eyes and sharp talons are now focused on him, and manifest that physically with surprising speed. Ranulf barely dodges its lunge, rolling into a rough landing. Well, shit. Plan B it is, then.

“Don’t you know the laws of the wild? Buzz off, yeah?” Ranulf shifts, making a threatening show of his feline attributes. Now, he isn’t allowed to ruffle a feather on this guy’s fierce little head, but hurting his ego isn’t a problem, yeah?

This may be the most stubborn, aggressive Giant Bird on earth, however, as all this does is goad it into another attack. This one lands pretty cleanly, though Ranulf is able to wriggle out of its grasp. Uh oh.

“Hey, wolfie! Mind helping a pal out?” This girl definitely can shift, right? Maybe two challengers will be enough to make this guy back off.

A Cat, A Dog, and A Giant Bird Walk Into a Field

There are rumors about a tiny, unmarked village in the northwestern post part of Rusalka. The people there are entirely self-sufficient and need no help from outsiders for anything. They dress strangely and behave even more so. What you weren’t warned about was that they tame giant birds, and now you’ve found yourself pinned beneath one’s claws with the explicit orders not to hurt it. If you do, there will be irreparable consequences, and the guy in the straw hat watching you from the trees seems frighteningly serious. [Grants Gauntlets +1] 

starter for @purrlay

When Velouria finds the village that she’d heard quite a few rumours about, she certainly hadn’t been expecting her nose to assaulted by the stinkiest scent of birds that she had ever smelled. But she didn’t think much of it, wandering aimlessly throughout the village without a thought in her brain, as she often did back at the academy.

Sure, she had been sort of expecting there to be a village here, as per the rumours. She had smelled people on the wind from the direction she’d came from to get here, and that was pretty much sure fire proof that there were people there! Her nose never led her astray! Mostly.

But she almost wished that she’d gotten a warning about the birds as she stares up at the giant avian animal she has found herself in front of. It was an accident! She swears she didn’t mean to stumble over its food and ruin the meal it had been having! A warning would have been really nice here!

She struggles as the thing pins her to the ground, a desperate squeak - she promises she doesn’t usually squeak - escaping her mouth as she tried to call out for help. A few villagers pass by, giving her angry looks as if she should have known what would be coming for her. She didn’t! She didn’t know! She really didn’t know!

And then she smells something almost familiar, a blue pair of ears and a tail catching the corner of her eye nearby. She manages to wiggle out from underneath the talons of the bird just enough to be able to talk and calls out to the… cat?

“Help! Please…! Stupid bird…!”

[purrlay]

atypicalsenerio​:

Unconnected Stars in the Same Constellation [Ranulf & Soren]

A good kitty. Well, someone was getting into this, but Soren couldn’t deny that their antics were convincing. Though he rolled his eyes, Soren didn’t feel actually annoyed. It was, again, almost too much like talking with Ike, some natural banter that came like the ease of waves on the shore.

Even before this mission, Ranulf had been one of very few Soren spared the time to have conversations with back in Tellius. By necessity, perhaps, but it was paying off.

Ike had a point, dating him. Liking him. Ranulf was many things Soren wasn’t, and it was refreshing once Soren stopped arguing with him every time they spoke.

“You’re right, Ike could make a noble finally feel the pain of a food bill. As for verbal barbs directed at stupid people, I shall do my best to fill in, though Ike tends to be more succinct than myself.” His mouth quirked up, freely admitting his own harsh side, but he knew it didn’t scare Ranulf off.

His hands were warming up in Ranulf’s hold, and so was the rest of his body.

Soren forced himself to focus on the present. With a quick nod, he was dipped back, fully supported in Ranulf’s arms. The second he went back he nearly scrambled to right himself, but he leaned into it, trusting, in the most simplistic sense possible that Ranulf wasn’t going to drop him for a laugh. Ranulf leaned closer still, but there was no scorn or mocking in the playful mischief in his eyes. Soren could see the highlights and hues intimately in each eye, both so different yet harmonious together.

If Soren had been someone else, he might’ve closed the distance. he might have forgotten that no matter the flirts and quips, Ranulf had no real reason to like him of all people.

Being distant and frustrating was Soren’s personal strength.

Even as he stared at Ranulf, movement between Ranulf’s ears caught his attention. A figure moved on a balcony overlooking the balroom, sneaking off to someplace upstairs and deeper into the estate where guests weren’t allowed. Soren’s finger’s curled in Ranulf’s hair and he leaned close, lips dodging Ranulf’s mouth to just whisper, “I spotted our first suspect.”

It wasn’t what his erratic heart wanted him to say, but it was all he said.

Ranulf’s breath hitches as Soren’s hands find his hair, the intimacy of such a gesture something beyond what he’d expect from the man even for this facade. Now? But sadly, Soren’s lips do not meet his as he so anticipates, though their proximity to his ears send goosebumps down his neck.

Ah. The mission. It’s really too bad.

“Where?” Ranulf whispers, trying to keep his voice steady. He’s the cool and collected type, and something like this isn’t going to leave him like a blushing heron, but the tension here’s so thick even a knife might not hack it. “I don’t want to arouse suspicion, tell me here, quickly.”

The balcony in Soren’s line of sight, huh? Yeah, that’s an opportune place for a thief to steal away. No pun intended. 

The music plays on, and Ranulf lifts Soren back up. They continue dancing, making their way inconspicuously towards the nearest ballroom exit. The performers are close, and it’s hard to make out anything anyone is saying without raising one’s voice. Sad. It looks like Ranulf has no choice but to dip Soren again.

“Everyone’s occupied. When the music reaches its peak, we could easily slip away.” Ranulf’s lips brush Soren’s ear; they are so close he swears he can hear the mage’s pulse. It’s terribly unfair that they aren’t kissing right now, and he wonders if Soren feels the same. “Take my hand; if anyone catches us, we can pretend it was a lovers’ tryst.”

The strings swill, the piano chimes, and Soren and Ranulf abscond to an empty hallway under cover of cacophony. Ranulf’s eyes are keen, and his ears and nose keener, but he senses nothing out of the ordinary...save for a faint scent trail that leads directly up the leftmost flight of stairs. It could be a maid or servant, but something about it is just off enough that it gives him pause. That’s the direction Soren saw the figure go, too, right?

“This way.” He keeps Soren’s fingers tightly entwined with his. They certainly would look suspicious, to anyone watching, but perhaps it’s ambiguous enough that they’d not immediately be clocked. The little thrill he gets is just a bonus.

[purrlay]

cleversteel​:

allies or enemies?

This guy seems to take this whole ‘cat’ shtick pretty seriously! The way he circles around him like a predator sizing up prey (not that Colm is anything close to an easy catch) says just as much. It’d be kind of scary if it wasn’t so cool! This guy knew his stuff!

‘Ranulf’, huh? It was a name worthy of a true rival (or clan member, depending on what ‘Ranulf’ decides). Not that Colm knows anything about clans. Or even the books. Or really anything going on right now (aside from the fact that he just acquired a new rival!).

“Yeah it’s good to be meeting you too!” Colm shouts back. (It’s always important to have confidence!) So far, still good! At this rate, he was totally going to end up being the alpha cat! (He made that goal up just now.)

He doesn’t need his own cat ears for that, does he? (He didn’t hear anything about that, but if it is a problem, he’ll probably just steal a pair from someone!)

And then Ranulf asks what being a clan member means. (Dang it!) The one question Colm didn’t have an answer to (yet, of course! He’d figure it out eventually)! But Ranulf happened to be kind enough to give an answer of his own:

A fight!

“Of course! Although, I must warn you: I’m a pretty good fighter, so I may just end up sweeping the floor with your face!” Another prideful laugh. “So, we doin’ this with weapons or just our raw fists? I don’t really have a preference, so you can decide!”

Aha, the kid’s got spirit! He’s a little blustery, but who isn’t at that tender age? He’s playing along with Ranulf’s own wiles just fine, a little unsteady but keeping pace nonetheless. He’s eager and earnest—well, as earnest as a thief can be, anyway.

“How’s about this? You can use whatever you want. I don’t need a weapon.” Maybe this is a little mean, but hey, playfighting is how kittens learn to defend themselves. Ranulf stretches his arms above his head, swaying from side to side in a lazy warmup. “May the best cat win, eh?”

And with that, Ranulf shifts, energy swallowing his body as it reconfigures into feline form. It’s always fun seeing the reactions of beorc who’ve never witnessed a laguz transformation, and maybe he wants to see how well Colm’s confident veneer holds.

“In my society, the strongest laguz stands at the top. We don’t do royalty like you beorc.” Ranulf circles Colm once again, this time as a true-blue (hah!) cat. He lashes his tail, not too harshly, but in sort of a dangerous tease. “Fighter Felines is pretty similar! You think you have what it takes to lead the clan?”

[purrlay]

october activity check: passed!

total skill points: 5->6

gauntlets: D->D+

[purrlay]

[ TASTE ] Away from the noise of the festivities, the Chefs of the Round Table (the cooking club) has set up a mostly-private bonfire to test out some of their new creations. Their latest masterpiece? Something called a “marsh mallow,” a recipe from the Sreng region sweetened with vanilla and sugar. It’s supposedly delicious when toasted over a fire…

"Hello mister, would you like to try some of these marshmallows?" Julia lights a small flame below the first full of skewers she holds, lightly toasting them. Then she hands a couple to the gentleman, finding herself drawn to his ears and tail. "Um... I hope this isn't rude of me to ask but... are those ears real? They look different to the ones people are wearing as costumes and they're the exact same shade as your hair."

"It's so rude you've violated peace t--no, it isn't. I'm japin' ya." With the way this girl holds herself, Ranulf's worried she'll take him seriously if he extends the bit even a little. She's a decent enough lass by the looks of it, probably from a continent without laguz or other beastfolks. He pops a marshmallow in his mouth--damn, that's good. "One hundred percent bonafide tail and ears here, ma'am."

Ranulf tugs gently at an ear, exposing a fang in a lopsided grin. Curious beorc are funny! This girl seems...strange for a beorc too. He can't put his finger on it. It's almost like she's branded, but not really, and that wouldn't make any sense with what she just said. Ah, whatever. That's none of his business.

[purrlay]

hey man you good

It's your turn on cooking duty, and you know exactly what you want to make: delicious pizzas! The kitchens are well stocked today; *too* well-stocked, in fact, because there are way too many choices for toppings, with everything you can imagine from meat to veggies to more unorthodox choices like chocolate or mapo tofu. Will you and your cooking partner come up with a brilliant new recipe, or spend the entire time arguing over whether or not that pineapple belongs on the pizza? [Grants Authority +1]

starter for @pirrhyc​

Kitchen duty isn’t the worst assignment in the world. Ranulf can’t say he’s an expert at cooking, but he’s prepared enough meals in the field to know his way around a recipe, and maybe add a little flare on top of it. Maybe he could cook up a little beorc-laguz fusion cuisine with whoever his partner is, eh?

These plans require the kitchen to be in a usable state, though. Yeesh!

He’s not quite sure what he’s looking at as he opens the door. White powder--flour, probably--coats the counters and a good amount of the floor. Bowls of dough litter the counters, ingredients scattered across the kitchen like an edible tornado. At the center of the culinary crime scene is...none other than King Pelleas of Daein himself, something red smudged across his face and smeared all over his apron. Ranulf hopes that’s the sauce he’s currently trying very hard to mix.

“Uh...hi.” It’d be awkward to walk in on anyone in this state, but Pelleas is sort of. Well. He’s got a history with Gallia, that’s for sure. And Ranulf’s willing to let bygones be cursed-contract-bygones for the sake of diplomacy and just sort of a general social peace, but his limited interactions with the man in peacetime talks have him worried the guy might burst into tears if he says the wrong thing. “You good?”

[purrlay]

hyacinthinegrace​:

bullseye, cat's eye [leon & ranulf]

‘You’ll help with the new archery game, won’t you?’

He was the first to arrive in the courtyard while students and faculty worked away in their lessons to help with the set up, his coffee cold as ice by the time it was finished. Now all that was left was to watch and make sure no one was stepping over the line or cheating somehow— not that it made much of a difference to him. They wouldn’t be learning anything by cheating, but that was their own fault, not his.

…But watching people fail for about an hour was beginning to depress him. They really weren’t going to learn anything on their own, huh? Guess it was time to take matters into his own hands.

He walks over to the makeshift range and gestures for the students to step back as he gets into position, gracefully lifting the bow and aiming it towards the target before letting go— It’s no bullseye, but the kids probably wouldn’t care much. It was miles better than anything they could do.

“Hm?” Leon turns to the source of the compliment, looking only slightly confused. It was a pretty bad shot in his eyes, but he was never one to turn down such kind words. All of the others have quickly lost interest in what Leon was trying to show them, leaving his full undivided attention onto the newcomer.

…Were those cat ears? Is that what he meant by ‘Laguz’?

“At least someone appreciates my abilities,” he says with a sigh, lowering his bow, “go ahead— I’d be wasting my talents if you didn’t.” Leon is about to raise his bow once again to demonstrate to the Laguz, only to watch as he grabs an arrow and chucks it.

Huh.

“Ha—“ He can’t help but laugh, really. It just isn’t something you see every day. “Probably not, but that’s more reason to learn how to do it properly.” Ranulf…he was cute, and it felt like maybe he was even flirting a little. Oh well, no harm in giving him a little show regardless. “It’s Leon— and I’ll make sure you remember it well.”

Leons rolls 1d20: 20! Critical Hit!

Flawless as usual.

“How’s that? Think I’ll be a good enough teacher? Pick up a bow and I’ll help you get positioned.”

Oh ho ho, the prettyboy can show off, can he?

“Oh, you’re good good.” Ranulf claps, whistling appreciatively. Leon is definitely getting a little saucy with him, so why not return the favor? “Your wish is my command.”

Ranulf’s only reference for holding a bow is observation, and while he likes to think he’s a quick learner there’s only so much that can help. He pulls on the string experimentally, trying to mimic Leon. Damn, no wonder the man has such developed muscles despite his thin build, the resistance is already far past Ranulf’s expectations and he hasn’t even notched an arrow!

“Little help here?” Okay, if Ranulf is slightly less correctly poised than he could be and that means Leon has to help position him a little more, that’s no foul, right? And really, he doesn’t want to hold that pose any longer than he needs to. He’s got a new respect for archers already. “I’ll admit, this is a lot harder than it looks.”

[purrlay]

[ JELLYBEAN ] One particular stall catches your eye: piles of little bean-shaped gummies shine in the lantern’s light, all too colorful to ignore. Clover honey, strawberry, peaches… With so many choices, you can’t help but take your time looking over the vendor’s selection. Strangely, he nods and gives you a knowing look. “Ah, I see. We have the same… interests, do we?” From below the table, the vendor pulls out a heavy wooden box, opening it to reveal an array of jellybeans. While they are as colorful and delectable as the ones on the table, their labels are more than a little troubling. Sweaty socks? Essence of skunk? “Excellent for tricks… though you didn’t get these from me.”

Oh, come on. Yeah, it generally lifts Ranulf's spirits to see fellow laguz (or whatever they call themselves in other continents), but Naesala is anything but general. Why is he here? Ambassador for the unified bird clans? Oy gods, that'd be both a risky decision and he wouldn't blame Tibarn for getting the raven out of his feathers that way.

"Naesala. Interesting to see you here." Ranulf bows, forcing a smile. He trusts the raven king about as far as he could throw him--less, even--but hey, it's a new country, and festivities abound. Sure he's probably stealing from the church, but that isn't Ranulf's problem. "Enjoying yourself?"

Wait. Wait. A devious thought crosses Ranulf's mind--a little fun wouldn't constitute a diplomatic incident, yes?

"Beorc are ever so clever in their pursuit of culinary arts. Why, just earlier today, I met a man who crystalizes sugar into a form known as 'jellybeans'!" Ranulf produces a pouch filled with the colorful orbs. Each looks as scrumptious as the last; Naesala doesn't need to know some of them aren't. He pops a safe one into his mouth--oh, how blessed beast laguz are to have such a sense of smell. "Have a couple. My treat."

[purrlay]

Midsommar 2022 : Prompts and Memes Part 2

In for a treat, or just getting tricked?

[ COSTUME ] Forgot your demon costume? Vendors have set up stalls in town offering all sorts of accessories to get customers in the Midsommar spirit. Pointed wax teeth are subtle but expensive, but you don’t need a heavy purse to rent out a glittering cape or a fancy hat. With the damage fines this high, you better be careful not to get them dirty!

[ FORTUNE ] An old witch sits in the shadows of the alley, claiming that she can speak to the dead. She beckons all who pass by to visit her.

[ PERFORMANCE ] This is a festival for street performers! Everywhere you go in Garreg Mach, you’re bound to find some sort of show - from puppet theater to firebreathing and tests of strength and skill. Stop to marvel at Fódlan’s talent, or maybe try showing off your own!

[ SCARE ] Many of the children that run past you are dressed in strange costumes, pretending to be all sorts of characters. Witches, animals, scarecrows… even some of your classmates are showing off sharp false teeth and glittering capes. Costumes like these are part of the festival spirit this time of year!

[ SECRET ] While the festival is supposed to be family-friendly, and indeed more children than usual run through the streets, you catch wind of a tavern in some forgotten alley of the town where one can go for some “adult” entertainment. Like wine tasting. Just wine tasting. (don’t tell the clergy).

[ CARVING ] With the spring harvest comes an abundance of turnips. So many that merchants have brought them to Garreg Mach by the bushel to sell them for Midsommar. Once believed to ward demons and other monsters away if one carved a face into them, the turnip carving tradition is now little more than a fun activity for children to do with their parents.

Food stalls crowd the town square, visitors hawking sweet and savory snacks…

[ PIES ] Spiced meat pies or delicate strawberry pies? Pick one and dig in at this bustling pie stall! The owners have a special challenge, if you choose to accept: any brave soul that can scarf down twenty of these delicious pies will receive a very special prize! 

[ JELLYBEAN ] One particular stall catches your eye: piles of little bean-shaped gummies shine in the lantern’s light, all too colorful to ignore. Clover honey, strawberry, peaches… With so many choices, you can’t help but take your time looking over the vendor’s selection. Strangely, he nods and gives you a knowing look. “Ah, I see. We have the same… interests, do we?” From below the table, the vendor pulls out a heavy wooden box, opening it to reveal an array of jellybeans. While they are as colorful and delectable as the ones on the table, their labels are more than a little troubling. Sweaty socks? Essence of skunk? “Excellent for tricks… though you didn’t get these from me.”

The return of the Magic Club’s special haunted corridors!

[ SHOW OFF ] You, of course, are a brave soul, keen of eye, and have some people to impress. Friends? Crushes? Rivals? You scoff at the mere idea that someone could scare you with some cheap parlor trick and roam about the hallways with crossed arms and plenty of skepticism.

[ SCREAM ] All your friends are gone–dead, probably, when you remember their terrified screams as they thrashed against the firm grip of a bloody butcher with a rabbit mask. You also remember the way the cleaver glinted in the cold light. Your feet pound against the tile as you flee from your pursuer, the butcher’s twin with a chicken’s face and an even bigger knife. You trip, fall, get back up again. You trip, fall–why the hell are you falling so much? A “corpse” springs to life in front of your path, but a solid punch sends them reeling. You don’t look back. All you can do is scream, and run.

[purrlay]

[ TELL ] Share stories around the fire. Lately, children have made a game out of whispering a story into their friend’s ear, who has to retell the story to the best of their ability to their friend, and so on. When the story finally reaches the end of the “convoy,” it’s often a completely new story.

"... And I was astounded and said, 'what on earth, Edward', and he smiled, shrugged, and said, 'look, it's there, so we may as well take it, right?' and I couldn't think of anything else to respond with. So that's how we went to raid a Begnion army station for food rations and came back with some poor soldier's spare trousers."

Shrugging, he turns to Ranulf. "Your turn to tell a story."

This Leonardo kid’s from the Dawn Brigade. Daein, but Leanne’s sung his praises, so he can’t be that bad.

“Hm, yeah? Let me think…”

He can’t help but have a little fun with a hapless beorc, though, especially when there’s such opportunity.

“Trousers, eh? There’s a bit of a debate among beast laguz about trousers.” Ranulf stretches his legs, patting at his own pants. He sits back down, turning to look in Leonardo’s direction. “As you know, laguz don’t keep our garments on when we shift. And thank goodness for that, we’d have to buy new ones far too often if that were the case!”

“When we’re in beast form, all we need is our fur. But some laguz have crazy ideas…” Ranulf scratches his chin, taking a comically long pause before continuing.“You see, we cats are a little smaller than most other beast laguz. Some so small, in fact, that you could fit a particularly large pair of trousers on them.”

“But what’s the most practical way to achieve this? Some argue that you simply put them across one’s hindquarters and be done with it. Simple enough, eh?" Ranulf slaps his hindquarters, chuckling as he watches the beorc process the mental images he's introduced. "Yet others...they propose another solution."

"A brand new garment, specifically fitted for cats--and perhaps anyone in beast form! A trouser with not two, but four legs!" Ranulf gestures grandly, as if he were revealing a twist so impactful it should inspire gasps.

[purrlay]

[ LEAP ] All around the hills outside of town, the people of Fódlan light bonfires to scare away evil spirits. Leaping over them is said to bring good luck, and many challenge each other to see who can jump the highest. Young couples link hands and try to jump together, hoping for prosperity in the year to come.

"Soren...is that you in there?" The costume is that of a large yellow rodent, full-body and leaving no hint as to who is inside. To beorc, anyway. The outfit is entirely uncharacteristic, but the scent is unmistakable. "Gah hah hah hah! I'm sorry, this is too funny!"

"I dunno what bet you lost or money you were offered for this, but this is great. It's good to see you loosening up a bit!" Ranulf elbows him, which looks patently ridiculous given the whole "large cartoonish yellow mouse" thing, but he's not missing out on this opportunity, no siree! "Listen, listen, y'know the tradition where folks leap over the bonfire to get good luck? I'm sure you'll win your next wager if you do it!"

"It'll be fun! C'mon, I'll go first." Ranulf shifts into cat form, tail waving mischievously. It's a little unfair of him to do this, sure, but he's not risking scorching his festival clothes! He bounds with ease over the bonfire, leaping back over for extra measure. "It'll be fine, see?"

Soren should have realized that sight wasn't the only sense some people relied on. Had he had any choice in the matter, he wouldn't have gone to the festival or participated like this at all. He frowned, waving his little paws to gesture for Ranulf to keep it down.

He'd break character on this one, since Ranulf already knew it was him.

"Shut up." The hissed command was slightly muffled from inside. He didn't want to detail his decaf kidnapping followed by a transformation into Thunder Mouse, so he didn't mention it. "It's a paying job. I am not loosening up whatsoever," he stubbornly insisted. Oh, he hoped Ranulf hadn't witnessed any of the dancing or children rushing to hug him. He sounded like a defensive brat, waving the little arms with bad tempered frustration. He was glad that unless Ranulf could also see through solid objects, that he didn't know Soren's ears were bright red.

Soren wouldn't mind that much if the costume caught on fire, but then everyone would know it was him. Instead, he picked the lowest part of the fire at the very edge and hopped, stumbling a bit on his way down, but he'd technically done it, so it was fine.

"There," he stated.

Oh... "Isn't it only for couples, anyway?" Maybe that was if they jumped together. Maybe Ranulf was trying to imply something. Even so-

"You can't tell anyone about this." Soren viciously shook his head and jabbed a little paw at Ranulf. For some reason, he was building up a list of things he didn't want Ranulf telling anyone about. "Nobody. Got it?"

Soren's stern demand was cut off by yet another small child running up to him and hugging the rounded body of his costume. The boy giggled, staring at Soren/Thunder Mouse's face with undiluted joy. "Thunder Mouse!"

Well, he was on the job. Soren patted the child's head, back to being quietly in character.

Right in front of Ranulf, of course.

He'd never live it down.

[purrlay]

Midsommar 2022 : Prompts and Memes Part 1

The sun begins its evening descent, bathing the sky in hues of pale yellow and gold. After a long day of collecting firewood and arranging the burning piles, your hard work is finally rewarded with the sight of a festival truly coming together. Merchants set up their wares and prepare their treats, filling the air with fragrant smoke and the warm scent of fried sweets.

Priests strike matches over each of your wood piles. Fires burns brightly. ‘tis the beginning of Midsommar!

The bonfires are burning….

[ ROAST ] Food over the fires, from meats to marshmallows. Each house has their own representative bonfire, and each fire has a large pot with their representative soup. Add something to it or try out what your classmates have been cooking.

[ EAGLES SOUP ] Black Eagles: Thick goulash, hearty, enough to feed a thousand soldiers. “Thousand Soldiers’ Soup” made with dried ingredients and reconstituted on the roads

[ LIONS SOUP ] Blue Lions: White fish, leeks, potatoes, heavy cream, keeps you nice and warm.

[ DEER SOUP ] Golden Deer: Broad beans, spiced sausages, seasonal vegetables, red hot with paprika imported from Dagda.

[ DANCE ] While Midsommar traditions began in the Empire and spread gradually across Fódlan, each country has its own Midsommar song and dance around the fire. Follow your house’s traditions, or bring in a little something from home.

[ BURN ] Burn different plants as offerings to the Goddess. Herbs and powders are sold by local vendors to change the scent and color of the smoke.

[ LEAP ] All around the hills outside of town, the people of Fódlan light bonfires to scare away evil spirits. Leaping over them is said to bring good luck, and many challenge each other to see who can jump the highest. Young couples link hands and try to jump together, hoping for prosperity in the year to come.

[ TELL ] Share stories around the fire. Lately, children have made a game out of whispering a story into their friend’s ear, who has to retell the story to the best of their ability to their friend, and so on. When the story finally reaches the end of the “convoy,” it’s often a completely new story.

[ TASTE ] Away from the noise of the festivities, the Chefs of the Round Table (the cooking club) has set up a mostly-private bonfire to test out some of their new creations. Their latest masterpiece? Something called a “marsh mallow,” a recipe from the Sreng region sweetened with vanilla and sugar. It’s supposedly delicious when toasted over a fire…

The Garland Moon begins…

[ CROWN ] Make a flower crown, or bestow one upon another.

[ GARLAND ] The Garland Moon is upon Fódlan, and garlands are being strung up all around Garreg Mach. Among the shop stalls selling handmade trinkets and knickknacks are florists with the last of the spring flowers, already woven and made into garlands and corsages. This may be your last chance to confess to your special someone before the season changes!

[ PAIR UP ] Single people get dressed up and paired off with other single people, this is the season of love and baby animals and the older adults won’t tolerate a humbug Singleton. If you already have a special someone, then dive right into the singing and dancing together!

[ SHOP ] The festivities draw merchants from all across the world to sell their wares, but beware: the crowds are ripe for pickpockets, and unscrupulous potion sellers take advantage of anyone who looks confused and gullible.

[ MUSIC ] There is no shortage of music or food. Join in with hymns around the cathedral, find the bards singing old folktales by the river, or try to swipe as many free samples as you can in the market.

[purrlay]

atypicalsenerio​:

Unconnected Stars in the Same Constellation [Ranulf & Soren]

Soren was secretly smug that Ranulf wasn’t keeping absolutely cool and collected either, although he was surprised that it was in reaction to that particular comment. It was practically Ranulf’s job to be the charming public face. It would be like Soren blushing if someone complimented his magic. (Well… if it was Ike he would care, but.) He’d never understood the need to chase praise from just anyone.

He agreed with Ranulf’s observation that they hadn’t yet found their culprit in the woman Ranulf sent away to get them drinks. However, he wasn’t upset. It left room to have a few more moments to let his sense of humor out. “Talk to all everyone like that and I’ll get jealous.” He wasn’t the least bit jealous and Soren was enjoying his act far too much, face and tone deadpan as he joked. “I’m capping your boy and girlfriend limit at three, so you only get one more. Choose wisely.”

Alright, they needed to focus. Really, this time. Soren didn’t even care for alcohol to begin with and only planning to take a sip to blend in. Without waiting for their drinks he nodded, offering his hand to Ranulf. “Just the one.” Then they had a job to do.

After too many dances the past year or so, Soren was comfortable heading out to the dance floor amid the majority of couples attending. He scanned around for anyone suspicious as he faced Ranulf. Nothing yet, but he’d give it time. A slow melody hung in the air like a haze and he draped his free hand on Ranulf’s shoulder, stepping close. His eyes locked onto Ranulf’s, noticing how each of the different hues were as vibrant as the other. Supposedly, it was more common for cats to have heterochromia, but he’d never had reason to get so close and stare before.

They weren’t moving, just standing close and half embraced. Soren could feel how warm Ranulf was from where he stood.

“Unless you want a ballroom traffic violation, you should lead us.” Teasing in place of venom, the kind of way he’d talk to Ike. His heart jumped at the realization. Ranulf was just a friend, and he was letting his hair down far too much. He ought to be more guarded, less involved. If anything, it was an opportunity to thoroughly vet (ha) how well Ranulf treated Ike as a partner. His out of balance feelings had no place here.

He was just so unused to having friends he mistook the act for more, that was all.

“Can you imagine Ike at one of these things?” Common ground, he could do that. He had nowhere to look that wasn’t some part Ranulf, so he let his eyes settle on Ranulf, watching his ears twitch as he spoke and they revolved on the spot. His feet were on autopilot. “I get the feeling he’d be attached to the refreshment table.”

“Oh don’t you worry your pretty little head, I’ll be a good kitty.” Ranulf laughs, a warm cackle he can feel in his belly. He’s had naught to drink yet and here he is, a feeling of easy camaraderie and perhaps something more bubbling beneath the service.

Soren is attractive. Anyone with eyes can see that much. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined what it’d be like to kiss him, run his hands through his silky black hair, watch his careful composure melt, that sort of thing.

But he is also guarded, and for understandable reasons. While Ranulf would like to expand his horizons, he doesn’t want to push him too fast or overstep important boundaries. This mission’s premise is already a surprising escalation, honestly.

“Hahah! He’d eat them out of house and home with these puny serving sizes, and so help these noble snobs if they say something stupid within earshot of him!” Ranulf laughs heartily, Soren’s hand in his. It’s cold; bad circulation, the poor fellow, but that’s alright. Good ol’ Ranulf is here to warm him up. “Probably a good thing he isn’t for this mission, eh?”

As they settle into the dance, Ranulf finds it hard to tear his gaze from Soren. A healthy flush rests on his pale features, and his carefully-constructed expression holds back a mix of feelings.

Ranulf is better than most laguz at beorc dancing, having learned it primarily for cultural exchange. He does enjoy it beyond business, though--it’s really not so dissimilar to sparring, a cooperative exercise of mind and body with a partner which grants intimacy and takes a good amount of physical skill and practice to truly excel at.

“You aren’t that bad. Seriously, you should’ve seen the ambassador I had to dance with the other month. I could’ve sworn she was trying to make me look bad!” The music continues its march, and the dance nears a delightful peak--the dip. “You ready?”

Regardless of whether Soren is, the moment arrives, and what partygoer denies the dance move the whole room is partaking in? Carefully, he leans forward, his face and Soren’s dangerously close as he dips the smaller man---dramatic, he knows, but really, why dance if you don’t go all in?

[purrlay]

september activity check: passed!

total skill points: 4->5

authority: D->D+

[purrlay]

Ranulf isn’t a bookworm, per se, but he can enjoy a good tale or two when the mood strikes him. It’s kind of annoying to learn the church here censors the library, but he’s had enough experience with people like them to not be particularly surprised. Honestly, the biggest shock was them ostensibly treating laguz the same as beorc, but then again, that Seteth guy is...let’s just say he trusts his nose and, well, he wouldn’t be surprised if there was a personal reason there.

Anyway, that’s all background noise to this latest fad among the students, and the first time Ranulf heard the name and premise he couldn’t help but laugh out loud. ‘Fighter Felines?’ Really? Skimming it, it reads like a beorc accidentally recreated the concept of beast laguz. It’d almost be offensive if it wasn’t so funny.

He’d not paid it much more heed until a young, excitable beorc who could very well be Sothe and Tormod’s child bursts into Ranulf’s space, a cocky grin and confident declaration thrown out as if they’re already acquainted.

“Hmmm?” Ranulf walks vaguely in Colm’s direction, with just enough intent that the young thief must know he’s circling him. He’s almost certainly a thief, what with that garb and several very-much-not-Colm’s valuables Ranulf smells on him. “Didn’t anyone teach you to respect your elders?”

Before the kid has a chance to sputter a response, Ranulf waves him off with a chuckle of his own. “I’m just kidding. Nice to meet ya, kid. I’m Ranulf.”

“Sooo...what’s joining this ‘clan’ entail? You’ve buttered me up, but I wanna know what’s in it for me other than flattery.” Ranulf grins, taking care to show off his fangs. Beorc always startle a little at that, and hey, they’re playing Fighter Felines. “We could always fight, if you want. That’s what rivals do, right? Show me you’re a worthy ally.”

Will the little beorc back off? Or will his bite match his bluster? Either way, this is quite amusing.

allies or enemies?

[ gauntlets +1 starter for @purrlay​ ]

Well that’s certainly something new.

As Colm passes through the common area, he hears his peers talking about some… ‘Fighter Felines’ series? He’s personally never heard of it (and he has no intention of reading anything to find out), but— (something, something) join a clan and fight your rivals? Colm doesn’t have anybody he’d like to form a ‘clan’ with, but he sure can find a rival!

Of course, you can’t just have any rival — they have to be really strong, otherwise, what’s the point? That’s not having a rival; it’s just bullying. No one likes a bully.

So Colm sets about scouring the monastery for the perfect rival — and, well, he’s got some pretty good eyes, so it’s no surprise he accomplishes the task so quickly! Lo and behold, a man roughly his age, a few inches taller (but that’s fine), and— by the stones, are those cat ears?

“Hey, you!” the boy exclaims, approaching the figure with a confident smile. “Just so you know, we’re rivals now! I’m Colm by the way!” A childish snicker escapes him before he adds, “That said, I’ve nothing against you joining my clan too if you want! You look like a strong guy, so we’d be unstoppable!”