swiftlance

[swiftlance]

Thunder magic ain't somethin' ya see very often. For there to be an entire bloodline of thunder mages...

"So magic's inherited through the blood?" Nephenee always wondered exactly how that worked; were some families simply blessed by the goddess? Or was it more complicated than that? Sheesh, she must sound like the backcountry gal she is. "...Sorry. No one in my town was a mage, 'n I never got the chance to ask the mages in the army."

She's suddenly glad they're not facin' each other on opposite ends of a battlefield. Ishtar speaks like she's carryin' a heavy burden; Nephenee gets the feelin' the thunder mage was forced ta fight for somethin' she didn't really believe in. Before she can think of a reply, Ishtar keeps talkin', brushin' her previous statement aside like clearin' footprints from sand.

"Nah." Nephenee shakes her head. "I'm a lancer. Self-taught at that." It sounds a bit pathetic in the face of Ishtar's magical bloodline. But Nephenee sits tall as she says it, no longer the embarrassed young girl she once was. "Never could make heads or tails of tomes."

Up ahead, a break in the tree line appears. They're gettin' close. Good; Nephenee's starvin'! "My youngest sister says she's gonna be a mage. She's stubborn enough that I believe her."

Hearer of Water

[swiftlance]

A stubborn streak a mile wide in this one, huh? One'a her brothers went through somethin' similar--he's still stubborn, make no mistake, but at least he'll finally listen when asked ta be a helpful hand.

"Mareeta. That's a mighty pretty name," Nephenee says. She's mindful not to make any sudden movements or--goddess forbid--ask if she could hold Mareeta's hand. "Ya do sound like a capable young lady. There ain't no shame in bein' helped every once in awhile."

Nephenee pauses, lookin' back at her young charge. This Freeblade Ma of hers must be somethin' real scary. Or just strict. Either way, seems there'll be no convincing Mareeta of anythin' without either her Ma present or this spell wearin' off.

Jugdral. She's heard staff 'n students alike mention the place in passin.' "Tell me 'bout Jugdral. Is there somethin' else ya miss, besides yer Ma?"

They wait just outside the hallway, where all the other children have gathered. More laughter rings out. There's a faint crash, followed by a heartbeat of silence, before the giggles begin.

"Well, this place is also a monastery. I don't think it's evil, really. Just a form of worship to their goddess."

Nephenee bites her lip on a smile. Mareeta's got an impressive pout; it may even work on some of'a the other harried Knights on kid-wranglin' duty, but Nephenee's had plenty'a practice resistin' such manipulations. "Let's just give this a try. You'll have a fun story to tell yer Ma when she comes to get ya."

One With the Warrior Inside

Any +1

[swiftlance]

What'n tarnation is this guy goin' on about? She's the last person to deem anyone below her station--heck, everyone here is on a far lofty station than hersself.

Nephenee's frown deepens. "Wha--"

And for all her courage, she's unable to break away when Berkut stares at her like that. There's no malice hidden in his gaze, otherwise she's sure she woulda done somethin.' No, this'un always seems ta be laughin' at some joke only he can understand at her expense.

For a heartbeat, she stops breathin.' The kiss is chaste 'gainst her lips and she goes utterly still, a deer caught in a hunter's sights. He moves, and she breathes, brain startin' to catch up to this bizzare situation--

--only for him to once more kiss her.

Forehead kisses are special. Her ma used ta always give her one after brushin' out alla Nephenee's hair. She herself couldn't get her siblin's to sleep unless they received a forehead kiss from their big sister.

A raging flush creeps up her neck, spillin' onta her face. She can't tell if'n it's embarrassment or rage or some volatile mix of the two. "High traditions? I didn't want no gift in the first place!"

Goddess, Berkut gets under her skin like no other. "Yer the one always...it don't matter." Nephenee sighs, limbs finally unlockin' so she can scoot away right quick. "Have a good day."

🎄

She's heard'a this tradition before. Some of the village boys back home tried catchin' the young ladies unaware--one of 'em nearly planted a kiss upon her unsuspectin' sister's head.

Those boys didn't try such a stupid thing 'gain after Nephenee was through kickin' their sorry behinds outta the barn.

Don't matter if'n she has ta go the long way 'round; she'll avoid bein' cornered as much as possible. Course, good luck only lasts so long. She's just about squeezed past the door when he shows up.

Nephenee frowns. "Don't you dare."

He could not have avoided her if he tried.

This was not in the metaphorical sense, as the paths they traveled through Garreg Mach town could not have been more different on any given day, even in instances of comparable proclivities - if there were a shop they frequented, it could have been assumed that neither would have been caught dead in the other's haunts, and vice versa.

But on the singular occasions where fate brought them together, it did so with a gusto, and it found him turning the corner briskly to enter the building and crashing directly into her, bringing hands up to prevent himself and the doddard who had slammed into his front from falling to the ground.

But when his eyes met hers, Berkut could not help but crease them deviously.

"Oh, and what is this? Does the lady find the likes of me to be below her lofty station? Well, my lady, forgive me for tainting the very air that you breathe with my foul presence – I shall endeavor to make myself worth your while when next we part.

"But in the meantime."

He leaned forward, slow and deliberate and maintaining all the eye contact of a feline with the intent to meddle in something it should certainly not be, and pressed a delicate peck – chaste, for all that his lips curled into a smirk against hers – first to her tender pout, and then for good measure upon her forehead before drawing upright, self-satisfied.

"Is it not the season to be abandoning old grudges? Perhaps we have yet to learn you the high traditions. Worry not, I shall remember, and present a worthier gift for you the next time we meet."

[swiftlance]

[ WHISPER ]:     the sender gently whispers "hey" to the receiver to discreetly get their attention without drawing the attention of others.

"hey! nephie!" dorothea doesn't wait for permission to shorten the name—she figures they’ve been friendly enough for that by now. it is with some mirth that she sidles up to the knight, linking her arm through nephenee’s with ease. her smile is bright, maybe a little imploring, but mostly sincere. "have i caught you at a good time?" her head tilts slightly toward a distant figure, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "i was wondering if you'd help me out with a lance lesson or two. you see, they’ve asked me to train with them in a few days, and... goodness." she raises her hands, clasping them together exaggeratedly. "i’m not sure i’m nearly skilled enough to leave a lasting impression on them."

She's on her way to the greenhouse when she hears her nickname. Her brows knit in confusion; her brothers are usually the only ones ta call her Nephie.

Not that she minds--nor does she feel much like she's got a choice, given how Dorothea latches onta her like a cocklebur to wool. Nephenee's frown melts into a smile. This means they're friends, right?

"I ain't doin' anythin' important, no," Nephenee replies, glancin' towards the shadowy figure Dorothea indicates. Oh. Huh. Dorothea thinks she's skilled enough to teach?

There's a pause. Lancin' isn't difficult--it's a weapon even a peasant can pick up, after all--but there's all manner of nifty things like footwork 'n hand placement 'n fancy flourishes that separate the barely-able from the truly talented.

But teachin's another way to practice, right?

"I...I'd love ta help. We can go over the basics, 'nd I'll even show ya some of the new tricks I've learned. Are ya free this afternoon?"

[swiftlance]

//OOC Housekeeping!

I have some more family obligations today but I plan to send out more Neph asks for the ask meme at some point :)

[swiftlance]

THE MANY MEANINGS OF "HEY.": A PROMPT LIST.

i often have these ideas that have no real origin, but i can actually tell you precisely why my brain wanted this: i was listening to "hey, soul sister" by train on a loop and i got thinking abt the fact that we really do just say "hey" for so many reasons. and i wanted to make that your thought of the evening! so happy november, bon appetit, wrap up warm, DO NOT ADD TO THIS LIST, and enjoy your writings!

[ GREETING ]: sender says "hey" as a greeting to the receiver.

[ ATTENTION ]: sender, having just noticed something strange or remarkable, calls for the receiver to get their attention.

[ REASSURE ]: in a bid to steady the unsettled receiver, the sender lightly says "hey" to help them calm down.

[ ANGER ]: the sender sharply snaps "hey" at the receiver, clearly angry about something the receiver has just done or had done in the past.

[ IDEA ]: having been presented with a predicament, the sender suddenly unravels a solution, introducing it to the receiver by saying "hey…".

[ GUILT ]: having just done something that they know the receiver won't be pleased with, the sender sheepishly greets them once they arrive to see the damage.

[ GOSSIP ]: the sender turns to face the receiver conspiratorially, clearly eager to share some new gossip with them.

[ URGENT ]: the sender rushes to the preoccupied receiver, desperately shouting "hey!" to get them to focus on a far more pressing matter.

[ SOOTHE ]: after finding the clearly distressed receiver, the sender pulls them into a careful embrace, gently murmuring "hey…" to try and soothe them.

[ SMILE ]: the sender (who hasn't been smiling up until they actually see the receiver in front of them) lights up with a smile as they greet the receiver.

[ TEARS ]: the sender greets the receiver while very clearly in tears.

[ FAKE ]: alternatively, the sender (who has just been crying in private) hastily wipes away their tears and tries to greet the receiver casually (to varying degrees of success).

[ WARNING ]: when the receiver begins to say things about subjects that are off-limits to the sender, the latter gives them a warning by saying "hey…".

[ LAUGH ]: having found the receiver to be decidedly unhappy, the sender lightly catches their attention before doing something to make them laugh, or at the very least, grin.

[ PROTEST ]: after the receiver does or says something that the sender deems to be unfair, the sender tries to exact justice by saying "hey!".

[ BREATHLESS ]: having clearly just sprinted down to the receiver, the sender tries to catch their breath while greeting them.

[ SAVE ]: after just saving the receiver's life in a very heroic fashion, the sender smoothly greets them while helping them escape.

[ FLIRT ]: the sender meets the receiver in a social setting, and attempts to flirt with them with the very traditional pick-up line: "hey.".

[ APOLOGY ]: the sender, having recently done something that hurt or upset the receiver, reunites with them and addresses the elephant in the room by greeting them with a sincerely apologetic tone.

[ AWKWARD ]: after a particularly rough first encounter, the sender meets the receiver again, and awkwardly greets them with more than a touch of embarrassment.

[ GENTLE ]: having found the receiver in an emotionally compromised position, the sender closes the door and approaches them carefully, gently saying "hey…" to try and get them to communicate what has upset them.

[ HARD ]: preparing to deliver what they both know will be bad news, the sender tries to prepare the receiver by quietly greeting them in a solemn tone.

[ WAKEN ]: walking into the receiver's bedroom, the sender gently shakes their shoulder to waken them, and whispers "hey." to encourage the process along.

[ WHISPER ]: the sender gently whispers "hey" to the receiver to discreetly get their attention without drawing the attention of others.

[swiftlance]

Ishtar says it so confidently, like there's no doubt Nephenee could have her portrait hung up in some grand castle hallway, where everyone starin' at her oil and canvas self would think her somethin' straight out of a fairy tale.

And maybe, here, it's okay to try and aim for more. This is a school, after all, and don't places like this encourage ya to push yourself?

"...that's mighty kind of ya. Pegasi are considered royal creatures where I'm from; never thought I'd be worthy of such an honor." Imagine! Nephenee from Ohma, a Pegasus Knight! Elincia would probably support such an endeavor, if'n Nephenee asked....

She blushes, hopin' Ishtar don't notice.

Her horse sidesteps a piece of debris on the road. She runs a hand along his neck. "Shouldn't be too much farther. You're a mage, right?"

Not the most elegant conversation transition, but if'n they kept talkin' 'bout pegasi and royal halls, she felt fit to burst right there. 'Sides, mages are a fascinatin' bunch. All that power, right at their fingertips. She'd seen the inside of Calil's tome once and couldn't make heads nor tails of all the incantations.

"What kinda magic do you specialize in?"

Hearer of Water

[swiftlance]

If she sets the dishes down none too gently, well, that's just his imagination. His confused little thank you catches her momentarily off guard; Nephenee stares at him for what feels like an eternity before shakin' herself free. "Enjoy."

Despite his attitude to the contrary, there are other people she has to take serve. The rest of them ain't near as rude 'n full of puffed up pride. One young man--full of somethin' she'd rather not name--tried flirtin' his way inta her good graces. She was grateful, then, for the strength a lifetime of hard work etched in her hands. It took hardly any effort at all to pry his own questin' fingers off her waist.

Thoroughly annoyed now, she fiddles with her headband, feelin' the dent its left in the thin skin behind her ear.

"Were ya callin' for me?" Nephenee asks, privately enjoyin' the sour look on his face. Serves him right after his attitude. She eyes the nearly untouched food in front of him. No, this place ain't fancy or even farm fresh; still, it's better'n not eatin' at all.

"Forgot to add somethin'? Salt, maybe?" Though she doesn't think salt will somehow make his meal more appetizin'. He'll probably take this lackluster display out on her, anyhow, despite the fact she's not the one cookin' it. "'Nd yes, I told 'em exactly what ya wanted."

And I'm in the Business of Losing Your Interest

[swiftlance]

This one is angrier than a hissin' snake. Nephenee stands, smoothin' out her skirt. "That's alright. I don't blame ya for not trustin' me. But see? I ain't got no weapons."

Indeed, she'd left her trusty lance behind--it wouldn't do ta scare the kiddos. She holds the door open for the small girl, followin' her outside.

"My name's Nephenee," she says, keepin' her tone soft. "A Knight at this here Academy. What's your name?"

A will? Is this girl a princess or somethin'? Wouldn't be a huge surprise, given how many royals stalk these halls. Nephenee doesn't reply immediately. It's mighty hard to calm the young ones down when they've set their minds on bein' angry.

She understands; wakin' up in a strange place, with no memory, would frighten even the hardiest of adults. "I'll be honest, I ain't too sure 'bout a will. But I know we're all tryna figure out how best to solve this. My fellow Knights asked if someone could check the grounds, make sure no little 'un was left behind, so that's what I've been doin.'"

The turn a corner. Overlapping voices float down the hallway, punctuated by childish yells and giggles. "We've got everyone meetin' in mess hall. Plenty'a space for you ta run around in."

One With the Warrior Inside

Any +1

[swiftlance]

a kiss on the back of their hand, formal yet intimate

She's half tempted ta rub her eyes 'n make sure she ain't dreamin', but her baby sister'll throw a fit if any of her carefully applied lines of kohl get smudged. Instead, Nephenee crosses her arms, left thumb and forefinger pinchin' the sensitive skin near her right elbow. The sharp, bright pain is enough to ground her, remind her that this scene straight from a fairy story is, in fact, real life.

No way is she divin' headfirst inta that crowd. Women in dresses of every color 'n shape under the sun elegantly sweep along the tiled floor, while gentlemen in equally colorful suits accompany them. Some have bright sashes 'cross their chests--somethin' ta do with government, Nephenee thinks.

If'n she don't occupy herself soon, the anxiety'll drive her mad. Queen Elincia herself invited Nephenee, so she's got every reason ta be here, but it's hard rememberin' that when the Queen's off attendin' royal duties and Nephenee herself is left all by her lonesome.

'Bout fifteen feet away, she spots a refreshment table, chock-full of all manner of tasty treats. Keepin' close ta the wall, she makes her way there, mutterin' her 'pologies when she gets to close to someone else. Her stomach gives a nervous twinge; just lookin' at the food ruins her appetite. But it's a way to pass time--

A man with long, raven-black hair appears before her. A deep purple sash cuts across the white of his jacket. He says somethin'--horsefeathers, she wasn't payin' attention--and offers his hand.

"Uh....N-Nephenee. Pleasure ta meet ya," she says softly, cause that's what yer supposed ta say, right? Gingerly, she places her hand in his, thinkin' he'll give her a handshake.

But of course nothin' goes as normal here! Bold as a fox in a henhouse, the man presses his lips to the back of her hand, starin' at her all the while. Blood roars in her ears, tinges her cheeks bright red. She glances away, gently but firmly removin' her hand from his grasp. "Ah...fergive me, sir, wasn't expectin' that...."

[swiftlance]

She ain't no stranger ta the sounds of kiddos runnin' wild.

What is strange is hearin' them yellin' just outside her room. Make no mistake, the monastery ain't as quiet a place as the name would make ya believe, but it's the noise of people goin' 'bout their lives.

An hour or so later, Nephenee finds herself on wranglin' duty. The harried adults were stretched too thin watchin' over the little rascals, 'n some of the more adventurous ones had seized their chance to run away.

She finds a few of the kids playing around the dorm rooms. After sendin' them on their way with a Knight who looked none too pleased 'bout bein' roped inta kid duty, she decides on a whim--or perhaps sisterly instinct--to check the last room on this row. Just in case.

The knob turns easily. Her eyes take a moment to adjust to the dark, but she's already met with quite the fearsome little warrior.

Quickly, Nephenee bites the inside of her cheek ta keep from grinnin'. It'd always irritated her brothers ta no end when she merely laughed at their antics instead of bein' properly intimidated. Not her fault little ones actin' like they're grown is mighty cute!

She holds up her hands. "Well, she sounds like someone I'd best not rile up. I'm just here ta make sure you're alright." Her eyes track the sword, notin' it's almost as big as the little girl.

Bending inta a crouch, Nephenee offers her a smile. "I know this is scary. But I'm not here ta hurt ya. There's a whole lotta kids rounds these parts; why don't ya come play with 'em? Ya can even take the sword on our walk."

One With the Warrior Inside

Any +1

[swiftlance]

On her next inhale, she catches a whiff of the flowers, their sweet scent all the lovelier for who gifted them. Nephenee wonders if she should place one in her hair, like the village girls did in Ohma.

Frozen with indecision, she almost misses what he said. Goddess, her cheeks feel liable to set somethin' on fire! "Thank ya again, Geoffrey. Glad I helped in whatever way I could."

She nods, starin' at the space between his eyes, rather than directly at him. A huff of a laugh escapes her; the image of Geoffrey gettin' lost, kindly askin' the nearest passerby for directions, is both funny and rather charmin'.

"You, lost? You'll have the layout figured out in no time." Holdin' her flowers protectively 'gainst her chest--right over her heart, coincidentally--she tilts her head in direction of the door and leads him through.

Her footsteps seem overloud in the otherwise quiet hallway. "...how're things back home?" Clearly nothin' dire, if both Elincia and Geoffrey have no issues stayin' in Fodlan for a spell. "Kieran 'n Lucia 'n everyone else are well?"

Chivalric

[swiftlance]

He stares, and it unsettles her. She's no shrinkin' violet any longer, but he watches her like a barn cat watches a mouse. The hustle and bustle of the cafe around them fades inta background noise, all her senses alert 'n honed in on a man who seems ta enjoy playin' with his food before eatin' it.

She's supposed ta be nice. Smile 'n flutter her eyelashes--least, that's what another girl said. Nephenee can only play a part for so long before it starts feelin' right unnatural. 'Sides, she don't think he'd take the simperin' act too kindly.

"This cafe serves edible food, if'n that's what ya meant," she returns, belatedly reachin' into the pocket of her apron for a quill pen and notepad. Puttin' up with this feels more humiliatin' by the second, but she'd given her word. Thank the goddess she didn't promise more of her time than one short day.

Her lips curve inta frown. He can't even be bothered to hand her the menu? It's like that time her brothers decided to do little, petty things ta each other, seein' how angry they could get.

He rattles off his order, usin' a lot of fancy words for somethin' simple. "Ya know," she says, her quill still poised over the paper, "there's a fancy, rich folk place just down the street yonder. Or the market, for your fresh fruit. Cherries and strawberries should be nice'n ripe this time of year."

With a pointed glance at the discarded menu, she scribbles down his order. "Now, you'll have to wait for your food. Hope that's agreeable to ya."

Nephenee stuffs her notepad and quill away, then grabs the menu, tucking it against the crook of her elbow. There's just somethin' bout his manner that grinds her teeth. Instead of sayin' anythin', she merely twirls away with a flounce of her skirt.

And I'm in the Business of Losing Your Interest

[swiftlance]

starter for: @nevassan

Pegasi always make her think of royalty.

They're right regal creatures, for one--no country folk take care of 'em in the village stables, at least. And two, she's only ever seen knights or princesses ride a pegasus into battle.

So while her experience with 'em is limited to battlefield interactions and glimpsin' them picking their way across camp, it still don't sit right with her that someone's pickin' them off like waterfowl durin' a hunt.

Nephenee watches a healer attend to one poor pegasus, careful hands wrappin' a strip of cloth around one feathered foreleg. She'd hoped an experienced pegasus knight would be around the stables, but so far all she'd seen were healers and the occasional stablehand.

Figures none of the knights want to risk their mounts more'n they should. Still, it don't solve her issue of needin' someone with experience ta help her put an end to this nonsense.

Maybe she can ask some of the professors. Turnin' on her heel, she absently curls the ends of her hair around her fingers in thought. Surely, it can't be that hard---

"Oh!" She stumbles, nearly crashin' into someone. "Sorry--Sothe?"

Faith, Trust, and Pegasus Wings

[swiftlance]

[ 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 ] ― sender gives receiver flowers

Five Senses

"...are these fer me?" Nephenee asks, acceptin' the offered blooms all the same. Leaves tickle her exposed fingers as she gently holds the stems.

Wildflowers, she thinks, lifting them to her nose 'n inhalin' their sweet scent. Reminds her of all the varied blooms she'd see linin' the fields back home--poppies and cornflowers and bird cherries.

Warmth seeps inta her cheeks; it's all she can do ta look Geoffrey in the eye without wantin' to bury her face in the petals again. "Thank ya, Geoffrey! These're beautiful...can I ask what the occasion is?"

[swiftlance]

[ 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄 ] ― sender lights a scented candle for receiver

"believe it or not, this came with a proposal attached." dorothea gestures lazily toward the cream-colored candle encased in rich, purple glass—intricately designed, with foreign flowers etched into its surface. she lights it with a casual flick of her wrist, and watches as the dancing flame brings about the scent of smoked spices, mingled with strange blossoms from a distant land. "a letter and a candle. imagine that. and the real punchline? he didn’t even know my name. it makes you wonder what goes on in the minds of these rich men."

and now she adjusts herself in her seat, nodding encouragingly at nephenee. "well then? have any stories of your own to share? a woman as pretty as you must have her fair share of them."

Five Senses

Nephenee stares at the ornate candle, wonderin' how long all that glass etchin' must have taken. What is it like, bein' able to afford pretty things like that just because?

The wick flares to life. Smoke and spices fill the air. Her attention goes from the candle to Dorothea, who wields magic as easily as birds fly.

Nephenee exhales a surprised laugh. "A proposal without yer name? That's downright insultin.'" Privately, some small part of her is relieved to know rich folk can treat their own kind with the same dismissiveness they treat farmers like Nephenee. It's mean, and cruel ta think such a way, but it makes her feel less like she's the root of the issue. "Not much beyond how to get what they want, that's fer sure."

With another laugh, she waves away the question, then stops once the candle flame gives a dangerous flicker. "Nah. Most'a the boys in my village ain't interested in a girl they've known since childhood. Then there was this fella in the army who tried askin' me out, but he went after every girl he came across."

She pauses, thinkin' back to her trips inta town. Back then, she didn't talk to strangers much, too worried 'bout soundin' way outta her depth. But it's true most men paid her a little more attention when she smiled.

'Course, she wasn't too keen on recievin' all that attention, anyhow. "...I don't have time for that kinda thing."

[swiftlance]

continued from here @realmsprotector

Geoffrey, bowin' to her? A flush rises unbidden in her cheeks. He's as good as a prince! Is she supposed ta curtsey? Aw, horsefeathers, she ain't even wearin' a dress!

Suddenly self-conscious, she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, mind blank on how to respond. He saves her from embarrassin' herself, speakin' as if nothin' happened, only for his next words ta make all thoughts grind ta a screechin' halt.

Proud?

City folk--and royals, by extension--ain't usually the type of person she tries to impress. They normally don't give her the time of day, anyhow, 'n she's happier not worryin' 'bout them. But Lady Elincia 'n her army proved not every wealthy person were plumb rude. They gave Nephenee a chance ta prove even the most humble of people could be fighters.

She herself always strives ta do the best job she possibly can, no matter if it's farm work or solderin.'

So the warm glow of happiness sittin' in her chest feels like the most important thing in the world right now.

Lips part, but no sound comes. She shakes her head, finally findin' her voice. "Ah...fer me? I didn't think I'd made that much of an impression..." She gives him a tiny smile. "Heh, I was just some infantry lancer. Barely even saw ya, some days."

She shifts her helmet a little higher in the crook of her elbow. "I've been happy here. Been mighty strange bein' on my own, but I write letters home often. Are ya settlin' in well? If'n ya want a break, the mess hall serves tea all day long."

Chivalric