#+. / there are no heroes today only evil within all of us ( verse: jugdral. )

[mautlie]

    “ hold still, ”  the high priest tells patty, voice as even yet stern as when he tends to her wounds but this time, it's not a blemish upon her skin that he directs his magic towards. the pages of his tome in his hand glow, parchment fluttering as the mana pulses from his free hand stretched out past the thief that stands right in front of him.

he knows she's getting on his case about something, complaining about something petty he's sure, ( admittedly, he was tuning it out just a tad in favor of looking beyond, into the distance behind her back ) but now's not the time. he mutters a quiet incantation, and the warmth from his outstretched palm whirls to life, sending forth a powerful gale that slashes into the enemy charging towards them.

it's only when the enemy soldier drops dead that he closes his tome and returns it to the belt upon his person, drawing back his hand as well. the wind abates, feeling like only a gentle breeze as it caresses patty's cheek on the way back.  “ don't look behind you if you don't want to lose your lunch. ”  // @ordeliasuperbia​ ( sc. )

[sireneia]

   lene shakes her head.  “ you can say that those reasons are the same actually. i'm here because of ares. ”  following him into this army... that puts her at odds with her own goals. a war will take away the time she could be spending to find her mother.

but, somehow, she believes this is important enough to put those plans on halt. even if her heart tells her she yearns for the woman who brought her into this world.

“ maybe i'm making that up. maybe ares doesn't need me. but i want to believe he does. it's feels good to feel wanted, and i just can't stop thinking, i might be crazy enough to follow him to agustria after all this, just cause i'm fooling myself like that. ”  her smile is self-derisive as she asks,  “ how about you, diarmuid? i don't hear you say your motives too often, you know. ”

( @cavaliant​ / cont. )

[mautlie]

     today was a very special day. even with a few years since the last time he's last fought alongside the man and no particular plans to meet again, leif had carried the letter an old ally of his had left behind, thinking of a hastily scrawled part of it time and time again as he rides alongside agustria's coastline, aiding ares in his civil war.

                        i shall ake my way to bragi twer and remain there,

leif wonders: would the archbishop even still be there? he himself has heard no news of the man's movements, though he supposes the man had been quite good at outmaneuvering his foes and staying hidden when necessary.

but the battle against julius and loptous is over. though agustria still is engaged in conflict, hence leif's presence there, there is no need for velthomer's heir to hide anymore. and yet, leonster's own prince makes for the tower that stands proudly upon orgahil's island, and he looks around the grounds until he spots a familiar head of fiery red hair.

“ archbishop! ”  he calls out, trying to close the distance.  “ you're still here...!! ”  // @nonpareiltactician​ ( sc. )

[mautlie]

    “ sigurd, there you are! ”  quan claps the man on the back, having fought his way through the crowd of congratulators and merrymakers all in attendance.  “ for being the man of the hour, you make yourself quite difficult to find. trying to hide away from everyone and flee away with your wife, are you? well, i'll see about that. ”

he calls one of the maids patroling the venue for a glass and bottle, keeping one hand on sigurd's shoulder all the while.  “ the night is for your wife. 'til then is for your friends, whether you like it or not. i too had to deal with this at my own wedding, i'll have you know. ”  // @hamartio​ ( sc. )

[mautlie]

@cavaliant​ sent:   “ do you trust me? ” (Fergus at Leif!)  ( prompt. )

      should he? the first impression leif's gotten of the man was someone who didn't seem all too concerned about their current situation. when leif had been thrown into a jail cell, he hadn't expected to have company ( a severe underestimation of the empire's tyranny versus their efficiency at expelling prisoners ) but least of all that that company would have the peace of mind to doze off while stuck there! how laidback could he be?!

but the man says he's good with a sword, and, well, he's awake now. that's all that mattered to leif for the time being.

“ do i have a choice? ”  leif trades a spare blade to the free knight now that they had been busted out and they were able to loot back their confiscated belongings. he can hear a rumble of guards marching their way down into the depths of the prison, things sure to be ugly soon. the prince readjusts his stance, standing side by side with his mysterious ex-cellmate. “ i trust you enough. now, let's both get out of here!! you too, karin! lifis! ”

[mautlie]

@fieryties​ sent:  Sara @ Leif: "Do you trust me?"  ( prompt. )

      “ absolutely!! ”  leif responds without even a second thought, eyes blazing with that conviction.

“ i may not have at first, but i quickly changed my mind. ”  it's not that leif is quick to trust, and had it been anyone besides her, he likely would have remained wary upon crossing paths. there were still even some people in his army who took more than half a year for leif to begin to trust them, but sara... sara was different.

( but she knew that already, didn't she? )  

“ you see through me completely. i can't hide a thing from you. ”  though a usually unnerving revelation to have, leif grins with that knowledge, safe and secure with it.  “ i have to trust you. but... it's not just that i'm being forced to. i trust you because i want to as well. having you nearby calms me down.

“ what about you? do you trust me too, sara? ”

[mautlie]

@valorwilled​​ sent:  "Happy Day of Devotion, my love," Ethlyn greets, leaning up to kiss him sweetly. "I hope you enjoy your gift!" The neatly-wrapped parcel she offers him is large and flat, and when he opens it, he'll find a new arming doublet, complete with embroidery done by Ethlyn herself, so he might have a piece of her protecting him on the battlefield even when she is out of reach. "Shall we find our dear children and celebrate?"

   were he able to lean into that kiss forever, but all sweet things must come to an end. quan has noticed ethlyn has something in her hands, and while physical affection was more than pleasant, he would be remiss to deny her the ability to give him her gift. besides, he would be lying if he said he wasn't even the smallest bit curious about what it could be.

when he opens the parcel, he unfolds it to better appreciate all the detailing that has gone into it. he runs his fingers over it, as if to feel the love that went into it, and a pleased hum seeps through him.

“ it's magnificent. i'll wear it with pride the next time i go out onto the battlefield; i promise you this. ”  he ( attempts ) to fold it back into the box, sneaking another short kiss upon her lips once he is done.

“ i suppose we should. i can already picture altena's giving finn a hard enough time as it is. ”  he chuckles to recall how clingy altena is to just about anyone; to be a child and able to so freely beg anyone of their attentions.  “ let us go then. but before we do, let me give you my own gift. ”

from his pocket, he pulls out a much smaller box and hands it to her; in it is a pair of earrings that match the tiara he had bought for her back in miletos when he asked for her hand.

“ i don't have much of an eye for this kind of thing, but you seemed to like my proposal gift to you enough. happy day of devotion, my dear. ”

[mautlie]

@cavaliant​ sent:   “ what is that noise?! this is my first time in a jungle… are mysterious crashing noises good? ” - sigurd at quan if you're up for it bc damn those verdane forests :/  ( prompt. )

     while the manster region is certainly not devoid of forests, quan is no more prepared for the dense sea of trees that sigurd’s company encounters in their campaign against verdane. where they had been able to travel easily in the east of the country, their steeds come to an absolute crawl here amidst the greenery, and things do not bode well when their missives report that prince jamke is sending his own men to face off against them. if they do not get out of the forest before jamke finds them, they will be trapped in a column at a complete disadvantage.

pressing onwards at a quick pace is difficult, however. honest and earnest as sigurd is, those traits do not win wars. njörun, quan prays, do not let verdane be our graves!

“ at ease, sigurd! it is likely nothing more than a villager surprised to see foreigners in their forest. you said you found a woman in town who supposedly lives here, yes? ”  he remembers the lovesick talk prior, though quan dismisses the majority of it to puppy love not anything unlike his friend’s many episodes at the academy. the knowledge that there were civilians lurking in these woods was useful, however. it provided another reason to hurry: it would be unbecoming of a knight to begin a fight so close to innocents. hopefully, prince jamke would think so too, but verdane has always been known to be the land of the savages... if jamke’s brothers were any sign, quan might not wish to press his luck.

“ if it had been one of the prince’s men, we surely would have been shot with an arrow by now. keep your wits about you though, sigurd! ethlyn would be heartbroken if i were to let anything happen to you here. ”

                               and so would i, my dearest friend...

[mautlie]

@moongradvius​​ sent:  Ares was trying very, very hard not to glare. He'd heard from the murmur around camp that his cousin had gotten engaged while he was out- and to none other than this guy. Sigurd's nephew. When he had heard, it had taken all his self control to not throw down the gauntlet- the less his family had to do with theirs, the better. Even now, he could not keep all vitriol from his voice. "I notice you don't have the Gae Bolg. That's the one for Leonster, right? Don't tell me you lost it."

     leonster’s prince held the nordions in some high regard. lady lachesis had been in his life for very little, but he remembers her being strong in both heart and force — a woman who could not enter your life without making some kind of impact, surely, even as she disappeared off into the unforgiving deserts of aed. then there was lord diarmuid, prince charming incarnate with his endless patience and mild manner. of course, there was also leif’s betrothed, nanna, the girl he had grown up with who had polished her own willpower and strength to the point that leif could no longer look away even if he wanted to.

and then there was prince ares. wielder of mystletainn, so the rumors say, and with the strength of hezul flowing through his veins. leif’s eyes immediately go to the blade at ares’s hip consequently, it is a fine blade even sheathed, and leif instantly yearns for it — the legacy behind it, everything that could never be his. ares is a god amongst men to be able to wield it, and leif would admire him for it, had he not heard that the man had originally tried to kill lord seliph. for that, leif believes hezul has chosen wrongly. ares does not deserve the blood in his veins. he does not deserve the title of crusader.

but king eldigan hadn’t had any other children. it is not like there was much choice in the matter, and it is better to have passed the brand down than to let it be lost to time. perhaps one day, ares will have a child that shall surpass him. that hope is what keeps leif civil, even if he would really rather not. 

it does not stop the prince from scowling at ares though. it was his natural instinct to, and when given a reason to distrust him as much as he does, there is no stopping it, least of all when there is no one to rein him in now. his severe look only deepens when they at last exchange words.

“ ...unlike you, my house’s holy weapon was never mine to begin with, ”  he spits out, curling his fingers over the hilt of his mother’s blade, but he does not unsheathe it. he merely lets his hand wind itself tightly there, lest he lose his temper and throw his fist at ares’s face instead.  “ it’s my sister who had the brand, but she died with my parents at aed. the gáe bolg disappeared with them that day. i’m sure thracia stole it and is using it as some trophy now. ”

the thought makes leif’s blood boil, and his expression transforms deeper into his hatred, though the ire cannot be fully blamed upon nordion’s heir. no, no matter how much leif envies and disapproves of his fellow prince, ares is not the reason for all of his anguish and struggling. but he is the one who reminds him of the cruel truth that has hung over him all his life.

“ ...the gáe bolg will never be used again, even if i were to find it. it’ll reject me the moment i touch it, but i’m sure you wouldn’t understand. ...you were lucky enough to have your bloodline’s brand after all. ”  so be grateful for it, he never manages to say, biting his tongue to prevent himself from doing so.

[mautlie]

@cavaliant​ sent:  “ it was dark and scary, but at NO point did i sob fully and uncontrollably. any fibs stating otherwise are just that! dirty, mutinous fibs! ” - Homer at one of your Thracia muses c:  ( prompt. )

    “ haha, so you’ll admit that it’s scary? that’s surprisingly honest. ”  he’s reminded a little of his youth then — of childish days spent in the thief village with lifis and the rest of them. he had thought the bard more the assertive one considering he’d heard it was him who pulled shannan ( or was it really not him? he’d expect a prince to not have to be getting discounts from stores, but then again, times were tough and he’s sure isaach’s not any better right now ) into the army, but also then again, wasn’t there word that the little ladyling nanna had forced homer onto the battlefield? he can’t help but grin thinking about this puzzle he’s unexpectedly been handed, but he at least stops himself from laughing... for now.  

“ so, is this what got you into so many beds? the girls seeing the difference between the hot guy strutting his stuff and the sensitive guy shedding his tears? ”  perne keeps the torch lit between the two of them, though the devilish side in him tempts him to toss is completely. he’s not a stranger to the dark but rather its companion, but he knows not to kick this guy while he’s down.  “ c’mon. it’s just the two of us. or do you only chat with isaachian royalty? ”

[mautlie]

@valorwilled​ sent:  “You haven’t changed.” - ethlyn to quan?  ( prompt. )

  “ you think so? hm, your brother had something else to say on the matter. said i've changed to be a lot more like you! ”   quan cracks a wry smile.   “ 'course, he somehow managed to turn the conversation into an excuse to go on about his dreams of marriage and true love and all that. spoke of how he wonders what traits he'll have rub off on him from his own wife. ”

the predictability of sigurd at times was enough to scoff or roll one's eyes at, but that part of him that never changes is what keeps their friendship going so strong. still, that particular flight of fancy did inspire quan to think on the matter some more...

“ i suppose i don't mind being told by you such things though. if you think i haven't changed much, then that must mean i'm still the same man you fell in love with! ”   he teases her a bit, wearing arrogance as if it were his family's coat of arms, but the thought does make his heart tingle a bit. it is a nostalgic warmth, and he is captivated by the mood to sneak a quick peck on her cheek then.   “ i'd say the same thing to you, of course. i’ll keep trying to meet your expectations, dear ethlyn. ”

[mautlie]

@windparthia​​ sent:   “ if i can save a friend like this, it means i’ve finally become the sort of person i always wanted to be. ” seliph @ leif!  ( prompt. )

     leif has always known that seliph was a better person than he was. the writing was on the wall if not etched into the very stars that shined above them every night. it was a truth that always permeated throughout the prince’s life, ever since he found out that sigurd’s son still yet lives and had already liberated isaach in roughly the same amount of time it had taken leif to take back his homeland — only to lose it again whilst seliph marched ever forward, victory after victory as leif kept taking compromise after compromise at best. 

“ how do you do it, lord seliph? ”  leif asks his cousin, heart torn between bitter envy and self derision.  “ how do you think like that? how are you so hopeful? how do you see the good in things like this?? ”

the calm after a skirmish means leif can’t let out all his frustration through sword strikes or stabs. no, he must let it out some other way, and unfortunately for him, he cannot find it in himself to keep it away from his words.

“ every time i rescue someone or help someone, i always think it’s my fault for getting them in this mess. so many people have risked their lives for me, gotten jailed or died... if i was the person i wanted to be, they’d never be in that danger in the first place! but you... ”

leif's face twists as he tilts his gaze downwards, devastated by the memories of his misfortunes and too scared of the shining light he viewed his cousin to be.

“ you not only are happy with this, but you can actually save people. i was only in danger for a second before you came to help me! you’re so much more than i could ever hope to be, lord seliph. if only i... ”  but there is nothing to follow it. there is nothing leif can do to get on his cousin’s level. this was a truth predestined in their very bloodlines themselves. it is seliph’s blood that makes him holy, and leif is only a cheap imitation of that.

[mautlie]

@windparthia​ sent:  "are you absolutely sure about this?" in an ideal world, family wouldn't have to fight family. a pair of twins wouldn't end up enemies. but.. the world is not ideal, and if it were at all possible seliph would be thinking up ways to convince iucharba to defect from house dozel.. even if it meant co-existing with the brother he'd declared an enemy somehow. "you don't have to fight him yourself. conflict or not, he's still family. if your mind is set, i won't stop you. but.. it feels wrong."

     iuchar has often wondered what kind of person lord seliph was. the way the late sigurd of chalphy has become a favorite of bards, a champion to the downtrodden, it had always been a popular subject amidst the people. 

he expected a young man who held the power of the gods in him — not all the kindness man had to give. he’s briefly taken aback by the question and then the assertion that iuchar may sit this out, but the dozel lordling quickly recovers, putting on his trademark debonair grin.

“ i must have saved a thousand people in my past life to be graced by an angel such as you, lord seliph. ”  how long had it been since iuchar experienced compassion and empathy from another boy his age?  “ but... a word of advice. all around your army, there are people who shall slander your name should i continue to be in your good graces without you so much as detaining me. i am certain there are quite a few who would call for my execution. ”

he laughs, speaking blithely as if this were not his own head on the line.  “ if i do not kill my foolish brother myself, then that suspicion will continue to rise and besmirch your reputation. a revolution’s success hinges upon its morale, and i refuse to let this one fall to ashes. i must prove my loyalty to you and your cause, and the only trophies they shall take are the heads of my father and younger brother. ”

the duke’s son picks up his axe, hefting it up over his shoulder. it feels heavier now in his hands, the weight of his crimes to be weighing him down. but he must. it shall be either him or iucharba. this oncoming battle shall be the culmination of tense family dinners and years of strife and lost love.

“ but... if i may, might i suggest you try to speak with iucharba should i fall in this next fight? if i were to die, surely he will not hesitate to leap into the arms of his beloved larcei. ”  his expression softens, and for the first time in a long time, he speaks outwardly with the love of a brother.  “ i promise you for as little as he thinks, he too is worthy of a virtuous army as this. ”

perhaps even worthier than himself, iuchar thinks. his irises grow dark, smile twisting as he makes his plea.

[mautlie]

@windparthia​ sent:  "how's princess altena?" the relief that his older cousin not only turned out to be alive and well but joined their side must pale in comparison to how leif must feel, seliph thinks. conferring with lewyn and checking in on everyone else has left him busier than it thought he would, but the moment he was free he made a beeline for leif, who would likely know of his sister's status better than anyone. "i'm glad she decided to come back. she wasn't injured at all, was she, prince leif?"

     the past few days had been absolutely miserable on leonster’s prince. the moment he had been told altena still yet lived, elation filled him to an all-time high only to come crashing back down yet again when she had turned his back on him to fly back. in that moment, leif had figured she had chosen thracia over him, and he almost wished finn had never noticed gáe bolg in her hand. 

he had become more reckless and haphazard in battle, and when the sun dipped beneath the horizon, the master knight kept to himself, refusing to see even the troops he had brought with him when he joined seliph’s command. he seemed inconsolable, equally prone to irritable fits and gloomy episodes where all he wished to do was hole himself up in his tent. 

but when altena returns and joins their forces proper this time, leif is broken out of his pitiful state. he had just finished conferring over upcoming battle strategies with nanna when his cousin approaches him, and leif wears the first smile he’s been willing to give seliph in the last few days.

“ she’s alright. she’s bruised on the back of her head, but she won’t tell me anything about it. ”  unfortunate, truly, but he’s counting himself fortunate to even have her with them at all.  “ she seems to be doing fine in training despite that. as expected of a majorblood... ”

his voice and gaze both take on a far-off quality, not quite seeing seliph for a moment as he marvels at altena in equal parts admiration and envy. the shadow that had been lifted over his mood begins to return.

“ i want to talk to her more, but... i don’t even know where to begin. ”

[sireneia]

@hamartio​ sent:   ✿ from the main blog for sigurd, of course :eyes:  ( randomized kisses )

    lord sigurd has been very good to her. he had sworn to her that she had nothing to fear. a lifetime full of feeling terror every time she stepped outside the spirit forest, but when he calls her name with such ardor, looks at her with such love, deirdre cannot help but wish to believe in his words. they are a magic like no other, a salve for the curse in her blood.

the fairy tales have often spoken of how lovers can leave their traits upon one another, and if their claims are true, then it must be lord sigurd's bravery that he has imparted upon deirdre. by his side, she feels as if she is willing to fight the world, and she shall stand tall to do it even if the fingers around her tome may quiver.

without him, she would still be all alone in the spirit forest. the people revere her, but they do not know her — not like how her late caretaker had, not like how sigurd's friends have, not like how sigurd as her lover has. they see her as truly human, neither a holy maiden nor a walking affliction.

though being in this army's company has put her at ease time and time again, her wedding date approaches swiftly. she feels guilty, allowing the others to plan it more than herself, having little idea what constitutes a proper grannvalian ceremony, but they all seem happy to do it, even if some of them might heckle her future lord husband for how quick he is to organize things. he's eager to have his lady wife, they tease, and the sight of their cheer puts a smile on the priestess' face, though it does make her heartbeat quicken.

there shall come that night when they truly will be together... deirdre frowns in thought. before sigurd, she has abided by the mandate that she not be with a man. yet, even with the courage he has given her to flee from her fate, she still has been content to let him constantly be the one to initiate kisses with her. has she truly become more like him, as lovers are wont to become, if she continues to let him be the one that saves her?

when next he returns home, deirdre asks him to lean down, and when he obliges, she gently cups his face. her mouth meets his in the softest of ways, fleeting in her touch as she quickly pulls away, but her gaze remains his. she may not yet be as passionate a kisser as him, but she lingers close to him as she conjures up some explanation.

“ edain told me grannvalian couples kiss on their wedding day, so i wished to practice with you... ”

but that is not the truth, for all she wished to do was take on his boldness more and more, and she cannot deny she has thought of his kisses all day — how each one consumes her and drives every thought from her mind completely. a caress of her cheek or her hand are all well and good, but they do not compare to the bliss that it is to drink from his lips. the desire burns in her eyes, as her lips part to ask their ploy for more:

“ ...is that the right way to do it? ”

34. gentle peck

[mautlie]

@nonpareiltactician​ sent:  He is too young to be adorning the robes of priesthood-- or, at least for the archbishop's liking. A hypocritical thought, perhaps, for Saias had been around the same age, but it is enough to break his expression, brows furrowing ever slightly to form the ghost of a frown. His visit is not for this child, but should anything be wrong, it is not as though Saias is without the power to speak up. "Forgive me for asking, however... do you stand as you are now of your own volition?" {Coirpre!}

    “ you are forgiven. ”  perhaps a bit snarkier than he should have been, but the words flow out without remorse. he sifts through his memory, trying to recall what people were expected to be visiting the manse soon. after all, it was quite odd to see another servant of faith on the shield of thracia’s property.

ah, right. the archbishop, maybe? coirpre gives a nod of recognition — more for himself than the older man — before readjusting his posture to be standing a bit straighter. he could probably watch his mouth a bit too, since it’s not like he was attempting to parley with thracian mercenaries who couldn’t care less for formalities or niceties.

“ i do, sir. i wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here. ”  he smiles, brimming with pride.  “ i study bragi’s teachings so i can help out my father, general hannibal. well, when i have the free time. i have to travel a lot ever since i became an envoy between thracia and the empire, so that’s keeping me busy. ”

it certainly keeps him away from home, in any case. perhaps this man has been in the manse before then, but they had just missed each other. he’d have to ask his father about it later. his expression falls as he mulls it over.

“ archbishop? ”  he tests out, to make sure he’s correct before moving on.  “ are you here for something? ”