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[sharpspi]

irroche​:

CAPTIVITY.

✦ — with every click, constance grows a little more frustrated. she’d proven that there wasn’t a way to pick a lock like this. if they were lucky, it was something as simple as a five-pin lock and they’d be able to reach far enough back into it that they could raise it. but that was with the right leverage, with the right angle—it’d take too long without an expert hand. true enough, she recalls that at least one of the knights that accompanied them might have been able to handle it. he had a deft hand in his handling of a knife and silent enough that she’d forgotten that he was there at all. she can’t recall why—

                         ( a demonic beast, its hide pierced with arrows of light but                            felled instead by an expert hand. the mourning of a girl                            that she used to know — she remembers a face. pale                            with death, soft with the longing for someone waiting. )

they wouldn’t be so lucky, she thinks. if he had a lockpick on him, surely he would have employed them already. no, she must find another way. constance lifts her gaze to look to the cell across from them, watching as the bars shake. then, a flicker in the darkness: lady celica, she realizes. hands suddenly spark to life then dissipate back into the air as if though they’d never lit at all. odd, she thinks. in all her knowledge and occasional companionship of the valentian queen, she knew lady celica to be a mage that paralleled if not surpassed constance in skill. then, what was it? constance looks down at her hands. she’d thought that she felt a little off since coming to her senses.

was it something in the air? she grasps the bars as she searches, again, aimlessly. was it something in this place? her eyes flick to the lock. then again, to lady celica and the other mage in her shared cell. there was always a risk involved with magic. but if the worst of it was that it would dissipate before reaching the lock, then what could she lose by experimenting? “allow me to entertain an idea.” constance murmurs, waving off kiran and soren dismissively. she casts a sidelong glance at the professor to ensure they’re a safe enough distance before at last casting fimbulvetr.

her breath comes out slow. controlled. cold.

ice crystals form at the base of her feet. then, the light flickers. the wind dies. it’s warm. “no.” the fog disappears. her eyes widen, the mage half-turning to look back at the others. “stand ba—” ice shatters, flies. her forearms catch most of the shards, though one of the larger pieces flies into her gut to send her stumbling back. her fists are clenched, shoulders rapidly rising and falling with the force of it. but, still constance is standing and she dares to think that she might call it a victory in it of itself.

————until she can’t breathe.

she doubles over, constance stumbling first to her knees. her hands tremble and her voice, choked back behind the bile that rises. darkness floods her vision. the smell of burnt honey and sage. it burns, it burns. her skin feels as if it’s been scrubbed raw, then scrubbed again until alabaster turns an angry scarlet. it scrapes and scrapes—

something drips out of her mouth. it tastes sweet.

red, like cherry cordials.

ice shatters, the crystal sending its spores everywhere. some stumble back, some cover their face or drop to the ground. one falls on the stone dying it crimson.

python, still and unresponsive prior, jumps up and rushes towards the fallen, and sees orchid miasma envelop her body, in a mix of surprise, shock and horror. a frantic look towards elincia, not any less shaken by the event; and he tugs off his shirt, reaching for the ice shards left on the ground as best he can.

he breaks them between the palms, warming and melting until the skin goes numb, only to watch the water come out purple and murky. much like in the underground rivers running through what were once shrines to the goddess...

he drops them, shuddering. luckily cloth catches none, and he still does his best to bandage and cover up the wounds, looking worse by the minute. ripping and tearing, with his hands and his teeth.

when rion arrives, he barely pays any mind until the claude’s question. on that, he freezes, then looks up to the mages with a well-defined frown. not a word is said, but the message is clear:

“keep your wits about you, if you want to live”

(next: @atypicalsenerio)

[sharpspi]

seraphiia​:

     She nearly winces at his response, embarrassed that her attempt at conversation had fallen pathetically flat. How could she have been so mistaken? Small, idle chatter was usually not an issue of hers—Celica was adept at prodding the surface of interaction, but it was when things dared to go deeper did she tend to shy away.

     …And as Python continues to speak, talking of rumors and affairs, she quickly finds that she wants to shy away from this conversation, as well.

     “Wh—?” She’s struck speechless by what the statement implies, cheeks bursting aflame, as her subsequent flustering nearly borders on indignance in her denial. “O-Of course not! There are no—no affairs of any sort going on! How—I mean, what—who…” She presses a hand to her chest, suddenly hot. Gods, she just might faint. “By the Mother. Have others truly gotten that impression…?”

     Most rumors, she could ignore. As a public figure, it was one of the first things Celica had to learn. But to imply that she would betray anyone in that way, or carry herself in a manner even remotely similar to her father… it was hurtful. Disheartening. Beyond sickening. But Python’s laugh suggests it may not be so serious as that; or perhaps, it wasn’t so serious to him. 

     Regardless, Celica composes herself with a deep breath, huffing as she crosses her arms. “Honestly… the things they’ll come up with.” She shakes her head, “But thank you, for the suggestion. I’ll have to speak with him as well, once we return. It’s a shame he couldn’t be here with us… his skill would have been a great boon.”

The reaction provokes a pause.

He has always enjoyed a little teasing, especially at the expense of those standing above him, but even then there were lines not to be crossed and chords not to be struck; and him expecting her to stomach court gossip without issue, on second thought, was also foolish.

She did not have experience with court gossip.

“You know, I managed to catch a conversation implying I made out with the greenhead stickler by the dorms. Whether it’s true or not I’ll leave to you to decide, but it does show they’ll anything, dunnit?” he adds with a smirk, punctuating it all with metal clangs. “Sorry to tell ya, but if I have to deal with this, it ain’t like you won’t, through your entire life. Best to get used to it, don’t take it seriously and prove them wrong, eh?”

[sharpspi]

He welcomes the tea, but strays away from the sugar, grabbing only the simplest offerings there are before sitting at the table. It is a nice sentiment, he admits, even though unnecessary - but, that makes it all the more precious, does it not?”

“Morning, Elincia, was it? Pleasure to meet’cha. Sorry ‘bout leaving the cake for the others, can’t stand its sweetness. Ths offer was quite sweet of you, however,” he teases. “Am Python myself, if you’ve not seen me around, a professor of sorts at this fantastically perfect establishment we’re going to wage war for.”

He doesn’t know her thoughts on all of this - or even on Garreg Mach, so belatedly he realises he might have made a big mistake. Nothing to do now. “Regardless, I’m an archer first and foremost. Give a command and I’ll do it, but I’d rather not lead unless necessary. Mila knows I’ve had enough of that,” he adds, fiddling with the ring on his finger. One from so long ago it feels dream-like, yet the sensation of burning wind and the deafening roars cling to his memory still. “I think we’ll work together quite well.”

preparations menu

Elincia didn’t know how many of her teammates would show up but she’d prepared a selection of desserts, just in case. They were due to set off tomorrow for the Leicester border for a gruelling mission set to last the entire moon. People would be busy packing and saying their goodbyes today but, she reasoned, it would be nice to check in with everyone before they left.

There were several names on the list she recognised, some she’d even travelled with and fought alongside in the past. Still, others she would struggle to put a face to and that simply wouldn’t do. Or course they could grow closer over the course of the next month but it would be preferable to acquaint herself with her teammates now, rather than later.

She pours herself a cup of tea as she waits for her allies, hoping at least some will respond to her invite. It’s imperative they learn to trust and rely on one another this month and what better way to start the process than with tea and cake.

[sharpspi]

"I heard you were here, but I'm afraid I've been so busy, I just haven't been able to find the time to check in. Do forgive me for not greeting you earlier, Sir Python." Celica says apologetically, after approaching the archer in their temporary encampment. The team had been making good time, and were near the Leicester border now. But they ultimately decided to stop for the night, before properly crossing into Alliance territory.

She grasps her right arm with her left, a bit hesitant before speaking again. Celica did not have the bond with Python that Alm had, forged from more than a year of battles waged together. And despite being princess of his country, did not command nearly half of that respect. Which was fine, as it was something she had not properly earned.

Her father was a disease to his country and his people; she would not be surprised if some of the resentment towards that man had transferred onto her. But these were naught but assumptions, and she would refrain from judging Python so.

"How—" She fumbles for something to speak about, "How are things, back in Valentia? I do hope a certain king has been taking care of himself."

“Heh, I’d wager you chose the worst person to ask that, your Highness,” he hums, tinkering with equipment. ”The castle is as foreign a place to me by now as is Rigel, not having been there in years. By hearsay he’s fine, more or less. But uh... Fodlan hearsay isn’t quite true, is it?” he chuckles. “Some here sincerely believe in affairs of.. varying sorts, those fools.”

If you keep your eyes open and your hearing alert, there is a lot to learn at the monastery, be those truths or falsehoods. Digging for rumours has been Python’s favourite pastime since forever, but even then there were things he regretted catching. Especially those involving him and...

He laughs. “Might have more luck with Forsyth on that, when this is all over. If there’s anyone who hasn’t left the castle in forever, it’s him; sure he had daily chats with Alm as well. Or, really, anyone who’s left there.”

[sharpspi]

Activity Check

Total:  12 -> 13

Bow: C+ -> C+*

[sharpspi]

"Yeah uh, you're welcome, I guess. Really ain't the best guy here to ask for cat advice, Alm or Celica were better with that. To me they're just rat hunters. Even if, honestly? Fun to have around," he shrugged. "As for the hidin' part, I'd like to see ya try it. Unless you got a cat-sized silencer and an enchanted cage, you ain't hiding one anywhere".

Not that he had any particular experience, but he has definitely heard tales of such an event occurring before. And the resulting wrath of an old man.

"So, uh.. see ya around I guess? Or maybe not, who's tah say really."

like, nya | niles & python

sharpspi​:

Was that.. a compliment? Or, no, more self-deprecation and pity. Combined with everything else this stranger managed to lay bare before him in a mere five minutes it was a damn sad picture, one you’d find in an abandoned castle under layers of dusty sheets. Not that he minded it necessarily - Mila knows he’d met far more damaged people who did plenty of good - but all of that baggage that soon after meeting? Uh. Then again, perhaps it was him who read too much into everything, instead of taking the words at face value and moving along before they stick. Could be that. But even then it was still a lot. 

“Judge of character, eh? Yeah, knew one knight who’d agree with you on that part. Cats like to sleep all day long, I like to sleep all day long. Never get tired of it, like'em. Really, what else would he want?” saying that, Python sat down and scratched behind the cat’s ear. “Unfortunately for him, got no plans to adopt anytime soon. Bet they don’t allow them in the dorms anyways, and hiding'im from the guards is too much of an effort for little reason. So yeah, off with you,” the scratching stopped, and the kitten, seemingly having received what it wanted, ran off towards the shed.

“Sure they judge character. Perhaps at times also better than people. Doesn’t mean well though.“

“Please. There’s plenty of things they say they don’t allow in the dorms, but that doesn’t stop anyone from keeping a dirty little secret or two tucked away in there. Behind the door, on the floor, between the sheets—it’s never hard. Not unless you want it to be, of course.”

With the cat gone, Niles straightens up again. Silly as it may be, he almost finds himself feeling a little wistful, though it’s gone as soon as it comes. He’ll just have to try again another time, perhaps with a fresher strip of jerky. If that doesn’t work, well… he can accept that some things are simply not meant to be.

“Anyway, thanks for the jerky—even if it ended up being too disgusting for even an animal to eat.”

[sharpspi]

This was not happening.

First of all, since when exactly was he here? A knight, presumably, who else—at least by those words one could assume that this isn't normal—of course it wasn't. The goody-two-shoes Forsyth, earning his living in seedy places? Python would have sure loved to see that except he didn't. 

Second of all, uh... He could see the guards starting to move towards the ring. Of course they would. The happiness of the audience, the bets being resolved—money was the sole thing that mattered there. If they wouldn't make it with their fists, they'd have to do so with their labour.

Was this the first time Forsyth chose a terrible moment to chide him without reading the room? No. Probably wouldn't be the last one either. However unless they could somehow brawl their way out of a highly guarded hideout, it had to stop. And there were very few ways how they could achieve the former.

"Hah! Mighty words for someone of your stature. How about this," he exclaimed to the room, quelling the crowds and returning curiosity. Then grabbed the other's head by the back and forced it to his shoulder, to have his whispering reach the greenhead's ears.

"Listen here you godsdamn moron, do you want to have us killed? This is how you get us killed. Wake up and look around maybe, for once. And learn what'new means while you're at it".

With that, he released the grasp and stapped back, nodding to the announcer and taking the stance. And glaring down Forsyth while he was at it. One more word and I'll knock you out cold and drag your ass out of here myself. Frankly, he was done.

Luck had never been on his side, particularly, and that's life. However recently it seemed like Lady Luck really fucking hated him.

Raucous cheers erupted from the crowd. A new competitor had taken to the ring, no doubt ready to put on a show. Some waved money in the air, proudly announcing their bets. Others placed their wagers with lowered voices and stern faces, taking their dealings far more seriously. In this underground arena, the wealthy and the poor alike gathered to witness a bloody, bare-knuckle battle. Here, dignity came second to entertainment. Sparse protection was offered to fighters. Dirty, underhanded tactics were welcomed. And nobody was fighting in the name of honor. The Mach Fight Club was ruled by money, and money alone.

Simply put—not a place one would expect to find Forsyth, who stood for all things good and honourable.

And yet…

“Up against Viper, a new fighter looking to take home the gold, it’s the Green Baron!”

Forsyth bowed his head in shame.

His reputation, once shining, was surely tarnished. How could he stoop so low…? What would Sir Clive think…?

One doomed wager, that was all it took. Forsyth had never been a very lucky man. Not when it came to gambling, anyhow. Standing in the front row, smiling ever so smugly, was Forsyth’s so-called colleague. Their betting game had started innocently enough. A simple wager: if you finish grading before 9, I’ll buy you lunch. Then the stakes rose: if I can beat you in a footrace, you have to polish my armor for a week. Before long, Forsyth’s colleague had proposed a much riskier wager: if you can best me in the training grounds, I’ll enter myself in the Mach Fighting Club.

How foolish he had been. How utterly foolish.

“Place your bets now, folks!”

At last, Forsyth squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and lifted his gaze. Only to discover that his opponent—the man who went by Viper—looked strangely familiar. First it was a glimpse of tousled blue hair. Then those slouched shoulders. A pair of keen blue eyes, fit for a sharp-shooter. The realization came so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that Forsyth began to feel faint.

Python? It cannot be.

Before he could keel over, the fighter known as the Green Baron flew forward, taking hold of his opponent’s shoulders.

“PYTHON! What is the matter with you? I leave you alone for… well, I don’t know how long it’s been—surely not that long—and you’re already frequenting fight clubs?” Forsyth exclaimed. Much to the audience’s dismay, the Green Baron was no longer interested in thrashing his opponent silly. Rather, he had launched into a lecture of epic proportions. “I had hoped you would find a more noble calling than… this! Honestly! Have you no shame?”

[sharpspi]

nonverbal memes

add + to reverse who does the action

[ attention ] for your muse to touch mine as a way of getting their attention  [ sleep ] for your muse to wake mine  [ cover ]  for your muse to cover mine with a blanket or a jacket  [ lift ] for your muse to give mine a hand stepping up or over something etc.  [ kiss ]  for your muse to come up to mine and kiss them without warning  [ run ] for your muse to run their fingers through mine’s hair  [ braid ] for your muse to braid mine’s hair  [ embrace ]  for your muse to hold mine  [ smile ] for your muse to smile at mine from across the room  [ wave ] for your muse to gesture to mine to come closer  [ panic ] for your muse to grab mine’s arm or get behind them in a moment of danger  [ touch ] for your muse to rest their forehead against mine’s [ weep ]  for your muse to catch mine crying  [ eat ]  for your muse to offer mine food [ hit ] for your muse to attack mine  [ love ] for your muse to touch mine as a show of affection or reassurance  [ nap ] for your muse to fall asleep against mine  [ rest ] for your muse to rest their head in mine’s lap  [ look ] for your muse to catch mine staring  [ seduce ] for your muse to touch mine sexually  [ help ] for your muse to lean on mine for support  [ give ] for your muse to offer mine their arm  [ entwine ] for your muse to hold mine’s hand  [ laugh ] for your muse to laugh at something mine did  [ dance ] for your muse to dance with mine  [ sit ] for your muse to pull mine into their lap  [ yell ] for your muse to calm mine down  [ cry ] for your muse to wipe mine’s tears away  [ dream ] for your muse to wake mine from a nightmare  [ surprise ] for your muse to show up at mine’s house without explanation  [ fix ] for your muse to treat mine’s injury  [ sacrifice ] for your muse to get hurt protecting mine  [ guard ] for your muse to step between my muse and danger  [ taste ] for your muse to cook for mine  [ sing ] for your muse to sing to mine 

[sharpspi]

filthtouched​:

like, nya | niles & python

Niles chuckles. “There are worse problems to have than a teasing little vixen at your feet,” he replies, discarding the jerky before trying to approach again. He even makes sure to step slower this time, but it’s no use; the cat hisses when he comes close enough, huddling further into the man’s leg.

“Stubborn thing… but I can’t say I disagree with its judgment. You know what they say—that sometimes, animals can be a quicker and better judge of character than people.”

Was that.. a compliment? Or, no, more self-deprecation and pity. Combined with everything else this stranger managed to lay bare before him in a mere five minutes it was a damn sad picture, one you'd find in an abandoned castle under layers of dusty sheets. Not that he minded it necessarily - Mila knows he'd met far more damaged people who did plenty of good - but all of that baggage that soon after meeting? Uh. Then again, perhaps it was him who read too much into everything, instead of taking the words at face value and moving along before they stick. Could be that. But even then it was still a lot. 

"Judge of character, eh? Yeah, knew one knight who'd agree with you on that part. Cats like to sleep all day long, I like to sleep all day long. Never get tired of it, like'em. Really, what else would he want?" saying that, Python sat down and scratched behind the cat's ear. "Unfortunately for him, got no plans to adopt anytime soon. Bet they don't allow them in the dorms anyways, and hiding'im from the guards is too much of an effort for little reason. So yeah, off with you," the scratching stopped, and the kitten, seemingly having received what it wanted, ran off towards the shed.

“Sure they judge character. Perhaps at times also better than people. Doesn't mean well though."

[sharpspi]

➵ \// He’s stayed in the background for a long time. Yet he cannot any longer.

This is a starter call on Python! Whether it’s the prompts below you’re interested in, or other kinds of interactions, feel free to either reply to this post, DM me here or hmu on Discord!

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[sharpspi]

"Eh..?" that came unexpected. The furball slipped out of the other's grasp and under his legs, rubbing and weaving against them. "How long 've I had that for the smell to be this bad? If you'd lay off," he tried to shoo the cat off to no avail, only leading to more confusion. He wouldn't be able to walk like this, neither did he want to actually to cause it pain. A predicament indeed.

"This is what I get for not checkin' my pockets often. A cat stuck like glue and inability to move. On the other hand - hey, guess you get another chance. Third time's the charm, right? Or somethin'. Whatever".

Meanwhile, another pair of curious eyes peeked out from the brush, albeit with no movement so far. There were a lot of cats at Garreg Mach.

like, nya | niles & python

sharpspi​:

Fighting them for scraps? The cats?

“…Tough life, eh? No judgin’ on that part,” ignoring the statement as a whole seemed worse than acknowledging it, so he did. As for the food, however, that was a question even for himself. Old habits die hard, and in the army one habit you pick up fast is always having something on yourself. Who knows where you’ll end up and when you’ll return.

On the other, after months in a safe, warm outpost and months at the academy he got more lax in regard to his own safety. So no, he was not certain of anything.

So he began ruffling through his pockets. “Eeeer, lemme check, might be somethin’ I reckon…” The cat, at first spooked by noise, seemed to get a bit more curious and sat down waiting.

After a few seconds, there it was, indeed: a pack of leftover jerky at the cusp of being spoilt. “Uh, here.”

“Oh?” Niles grins, more pleased than teasing, as he takes the proffered jerky. “I was going to ask if that was something tasty in your pockets or if you were just happy to see me, but I suppose you’ve answered it for me. Now…”

Niles crouches down, waving the jerky to try and lure the cat close.

“…c’mere, you little rascal…”

The cat’s tail flickers once before she rises to her feet, curiously approaching to sniff the jerky in his hand. She licks it once, paws it twice—and then turns, opting to slide in between his new companion’s legs.

“Well—I suppose you ended up being the tastier treat.”

[sharpspi]

dishonourables

With Eirika (@coeurenais). Any Weapon +1.

Quiet steps on snow, its crust breaking in under heavy boots. Unfortunate; as carefully as they could walk, there's nothing to mask the sound: it's silent around. Silent, and seemingly dead. Or, in the wake of everything, undead. At least this part of the mission didn't imvolve dealing with those, and frankly he'd had quite enough back in Valentia. Those 'shrines', as they were once called. Ugh. 

Didn't mean it would be any safer, however. Or any less important. If this venture were to end in a success, maybe the whole deal could be resolved fast. If they were caught, however, it could instead turn out to be a disaster. Perhaps that is why the two of them were picked in the first place: foreigners who don't hold weight to Fodlaner troublemakers - and who don't know much about the internal affairs of the church. Well, not that Eirika was picked anyway, but she wanted to come, and proved herself capable. This kind of danger, though no doubt great, was still nothing compared to what they have faced before. And where Fodlaners would cower in fear they wouldn't even flinch.

Without saying a word, they reached the mages' camp. A few sentries around, makeshift warehouses and tents around the fire. From there they would be deep in it. Strategy, strategy and, again strategy. Whatever they would come up with followed to a T, as cautiously as one only could. Communication would have to be silent for a while, too; as Python shot her a questioning look. Anything of note?

[sharpspi]

that’s where you go to feel alive

With Forsyth (@sirforsyth). Gauntlets +1.

The sun sets as the houses light up with a thousand candles. Most of those dim shortly after. That's the life of of an average townie: sunrise till sundown, for once the latter occurs there is little to find outside but trouble and danger. And with the plague going around.. Needless to say, most folks barricade their doors and lock windows before retiring for the night. For those more brave, however, there is plenty to discover, looking for the firelight and the scent of iron on the wind.

As soon as the sun sets and the evening patrol ends, the underbelly - one seemingly eradicated many a time - springs to life. Even for such a holy place, there are always many who would like to make coin or indulge in the thrill of violence, and where there is demand there will always be supply, no matter how much the officials try to quash it. Twenty feet underground, loosely but cleverly guarded, there it was, the Mach Fight Club, frequented by townspeople, students and knights alike. Professors were rarer guests, Python reckoned. At least, before he showed up at the monastery's doors.

It was a wild place. Far more full of life than even the academy itself, though there were a lot fewer people. Bets were made left and right, the ring and its surroundings were always filled with noise and shouts mingling with screams, laughter and drunken talk seemed overwhelming. Seeing the number of fighters was also odd, especially knowing how many of them would done their uniforms and go to classes the following day. And just how high of a risk they were at visiting here.How much risk he was at. 

At least he has the cover of keeping an eye on the kids, eager to battle without knowing their opponent. However, also knowing why he came here. he doubted that was going to work. Oh well, better run fast or hide before you're discovered.

Bared top with few protective elements: the head, the plexum, the hips. Everything goes underground, hits below belt and dirty tricks, and it was encouraged. Do anything without killing or gravely injuring the other. No weapons allowed either. Saints help your soul if the guards see you bring it into the ring. They're stronger than they seem.

"And now, we welcome our new guest, Viper! Get your bets in now!"

Hearing the announcer, Python gathered his courage and stepped out into the light, for everyone to witness.

[sharpspi]

filthtouched​:

like, nya | niles & python

It’s the accent that catches him, far from the clipped, refined tones of the princes and kings, the princesses and queens, that seem to litter the halls of the Academy. Rough, easy—it draws a curious hum from him as he looks the man over. 

“I’ll admit, I’m more used to fighting them for scraps than even thinking about giving them anything,” Niles chuckles, stepping back when another cat—black this time, with yellow eyes—jumps out from the bushes, with bits of dried leaves clinging to its fur. “…hm. I don’t suppose you’d have anything on you?”

Fighting them for scraps? The cats?

"...Tough life, eh? No judgin' on that part," ignoring the statement as a whole seemed worse than acknowledging it, so he did. As for the food, however, that was a question even for himself. Old habits die hard, and in the army one habit you pick up fast is always having something on yourself. Who knows where you'll end up and when you'll return.

On the other, after months in a safe, warm outpost and months at the academy he got more lax in regard to his own safety. So no, he was not certain of anything.

So he began ruffling through his pockets. "Eeeer, lemme check, might be somethin' I reckon..." The cat, at first spooked by noise, seemed to get a bit more curious and sat down waiting.

After a few seconds, there it was, indeed: a pack of leftover jerky at the cusp of being spoilt. "Uh, here."

[sharpspi]

Perhaps it was Alm's influence, perhaps if was common sense, but Python didn't really see the abundance of cats as an infestation. If anything, the monastery's silos were as safe as they could only be, and it was rare to see a rat, even compared to the town outside the gates. Though, no, it wasn't rare to see a rat, as much as it was to see a living rat. Cats sneaking around with prey between their teeth was nothing to gawk at.

Sure some get lazy from the students feeding them, yet most are still as wild-eyed as ever. Especially in the wake of dogs, also finding refuge behind the walls.

Apparently this one, whoever he was, found one of the latter.

The tone of the message provoked an eyebrow raise. "They don't care 'bout nothin' 'cept food, if that's what you're… askin'. Get some jerky and ya can file for assault. Or pet them, if that's what you'd prefer.”

like, nya | niles & python

The Academy, to his chagrin and delight in equal parts, has an infestation problem. Not of vermin, no—though Niles would certainly love to see the chaos that would cause—but of cats. They seem almost to be everywhere he goes, lounging and lurking, sometimes even approaching for a curious circle around him, but the moment he bends down with an outreached hand…

Hiss!

…yes. That.

Niles withdraws with a chuckle, watching the cat dart away. And, of course, footsteps alert him that he wasn’t the only one to witness the rejection.

“I suppose not all kittens enjoy a little gentle coaxing…” He rises, then, and leisurely turns on his heel to look upon his hapless new companion. “…but then again, being gentle was never really my thing.”

@sharpspi

[sharpspi]

➵ \\// He’s stayed in the background for a long time. Yet he cannot any longer.

This is a starter call on Python! Whether it’s the prompts below you’re interested in, or other kinds of interactions, feel free to either reply to this post, DM me here or hmu on Discord!

Mission Board (Faculty):

- On orders to search the surrounding settlements for signs of infection, your party comes across a lone farmhouse. Authority +1.

-You encounter a few of the local militia coming to lend their aid from a nearby village and agree to join forces since you’re all en route to the same location.

- As you gather information from the students and the surrounding villages, you begin to notice a common thread: mages utilizing unfamiliar spells that aren’t known in Fódlan or beyond. Any Weapon +1.

- In the dead of night, as you and your party are trying to sleep, the guards assigned to the night watch sound the call to arms. Bow +1.

- There seems to be no end in sight to the horrors around the village. Your party is fending off the zombies around the perimeter and searching for clues when bizarre, spider-like beasts rise up from the snow all around you. Riding +1.

- You have your own tasks to tend to, but a splitting headache impedes your progress. Accompanying it are phantom voices… AU Threads in this context are welcome (as any and all are).

Non-Mission Task Board:

- Still, you have Important Things you want to buy, or maybe you just want to show off just how good your uppercut is. Gauntlets +1.

- All the students know that there’s a faculty lounge, and rumors fly about what it’s like on the inside. 

[sharpspi]

what in tarnation-

At the sound of a voice she spins around, spotting a familiar shock of blue hair, and relaxes considerably. 

“Python! Oh thank the gods, I was worried the other 23 folks from the dream got lost ‘r somethin’- good to see at least one ‘a yah is here!” She pauses verbally as she goes over, reaching out to help him up. “An’ I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout no curse, but I do know we’re out in Gronder Fields- I had tah do a bunch ‘a set up fer the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, so I know ‘em decently well.” She dusts off her hands, looking out over the fields. “But… Somethin’ is different. I can’t quite place it though.” She pauses.

“Wait, did’ja have the dream with the funky emo dream ooze too? That started with the gold deer guy- ooohhhhhh. That dude is prob’ly connected tah the Golden Deer house, ain’t ‘e? Huh. Well, I hope we can go on an’ get more info on that, but fer now how ‘bout we look for more funky shit?”

She looks out over the fields again- it gives the impression of being overgrown, reclaimed by nature. Some of the fences nearby look sunbleached, broken down, and in desperate need of repair. On the central hill in the distance, there are two soldiers standing on top, milling around something- she can’t tell what country or leader or whatnot they were aligned with. She cusses softly in Hoshidan. “Shit, Python, lets get on over behind them gates- I see two military lookin’ fellas over there. Can’t tell nothin’ ‘bout who they’re with, an’ they don’t look like they’ve done noticed us yet, but… Well, we only have so long.” She looks down at her outfit and sighs in relief- she hadn’t bothered to think about it til now, but she’s in her ‘uniform’ from the Monastery, which really just meant she looked like a farmer since the Monastery just let her wear whatever she needed to, long as she did her work. She glances again to Python. “What’re you thinkin’ there?”

Python appreciated her help. Not that he wasn’t able to get up himself — because he was — but the gesture itself was nice, especially for someone of his social standing. But Mila holy, did she have to be so talkative? Being swarmed with questions right after a nap had never been anything but overwhelming, but now, after whatever that was...

“Ergh, slow down. No offence, but it ain’t easy to think with so much noise around,” the fields, the ‘embodiment of distrust’, the twenty-four people he was supposed to be stranded with — all of that was becoming a blur in the words of such a fast talker as Mozu was. And yet, in the middle of all that, there was something too notable even in this situation. “Knights? You’re right, hide,” and behind the gates they went. Not exactly safe, but it was better than staying out in the open.

The Gronder Fields... Just a few moments to look around, even a passing glance was enough to figure out this wasn’t the same place they had visited months before. To start with, it wasn’t winter. To continue, it was overgrown. “Didn’t this place burn down in the battle? Heard it was quite an event,” he asked, whispering. “You sure we’re in Gronder?”