#⌈⌈ic. (lucina)

[the-classic-dreamer]

I Forgot to post this yesterday, but i have finally completed my Smash Bros Amiibo Collection after almost 10 years of Collecting. It really has been a fun run, hasn't it?

[sentofight]

"Th-these results ... why there are this many of people who wants to ... marry someone like me?" and she is not going to address the other thing because she is pretending to not see it. IT'S TOO EMBARASSING.

MFK results

[fellmother]

name one hero who was happy. (Lucina)

From the hero sentence starters || Accepting

          "...Who indeed, Lucina. Who indeed..."

     She joins her upon the ground with little more than the fluttering of fabric, between them a fire of sticks and what once served as the handles of weapons. Another day, another loss. Their numbers dwindling, and in each claimed by combat, sickness or the world around them, another who would soon lunge at them with reckless abandon somewhere down the line. Separate fires were not an usual sight among them—to mourn, to share stories, to find company in the wake of newfound isolation thrust upon them—, however to find Lucina off on her own raised the first of many concerns for the older woman. Her stare the next, and words the third.

     Eyes shift to the coals. They ought not to put them out soon, she thinks, but move to another location for the night. Leave not a single trace of their existence in tracks leading from the flames, yet allow them still to flicker along the horizon. Like some beacon for what drags itself along at the forefront of nightfall, tethered to ruins and dirt with pin thin and tendril-like shadows that reach out before them, and in the fires' lack of attendees a defiant message. A refusal to die. Even when bones ache and minds clutter with sounds and images alike they can now never shake. When it would be easier to do so.

          "Perhaps you might not describe yourself as happy, but that does not mean you cannot find happiness in what little you have left, even if it is fleeting."

     She pauses, if only to allow the head of a wyvern, scarred and scaled caked with dust and an indescribable, blackened substance, to poke her way into the conversation and fall upon her lap with an unceremonious huff. The shifting of great wings a sound long familiar to Morgana, and enough to send speckled embers off into the dusk, winking along dulled clouds. She ought to clean her up, too.

          "For example... I still have you and Morgan. I have the memories of your mother. I have Arabella. To me, even in this decaying, hopeless world... that is where I find my happiness."

[freak726]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LUCINA!!! I wanted to make a small piece to celebrate her birthday today! Hope everyone enjoys ^^

[wayward-sword]

"Um, Aurora? I-I'm sorry ... I think I might've made Zech eat some of my cookies and his color changed terribly. I think he is erm, by the river. I'd make him some herbal tea b-but ... " double kill?

"No fair! I can't believe you made my dad some cookies and not me! Why does he get the special treatment, huh?!" Although, now that she stopped and actually thought about what Lucina had said, maybe it was better that he had to deal with a bad batch rather than herself. Light knows she would have been less delicate with her criticism.

"Oh well. You win some and you lose some." Just like that, Aurora seems to have immediately forgotten her earlier indignancy. Truly strange how this girl's mind worked sometimes. "What's the matter, Lucie, you don't know how to make tea? Come on. I'll show you. Lucky for you, mom taught me how to cook pretty well when I was growin' up!"

[sereneshymn]

[ Ylisse ] - Though he is far from the first winged person she has come across ( and, she suspects, will not be the last ) Lucina has never had the pleasure of dancing with one. Likely in large part due to her general aversion to dancing as a whole, but she supposes this is just another thing add to ( and then immediately cross off of ) her bucket list.

"These steps," she muses as they move alongside one another, "are native to my homeland. Though I never much suited them..."

Which she proves in the awkward stiffness of her movements, undeterred by the lessons learned back in Ylisstol's old ballroom. Inigo had always tried to remind her that to dance is no different than to take up a sword, but never had she really figured out what that meant.

"You are quite the natural, however."

A touch flustered, she reaches to unearth a crystal from her pocket, offering it to him as they exchange hands yet again.

"It has been a pleasure to be your partner for the moment," lips curl into something of an awkward smile. "You may call me Lucina."

Among the special talents of the Heron Clan that its members are born with is the ability to naturally pick up new rhythms, melodies and dance steps. Though Rafiel has never before had a chance to hear a melody from the faraway land of Ylisse, it is not long before it begins to come to him on its own.

The company of a young lady from that very country is also helpful, he finds. Even if she does not realize it, her heart beats in perfect sync with the melody from her homeland all the same, singing to him of love and devotion. It is a tune he listens to attentively, taking it in.

"Ah, thank you," he responds to her compliment, smiling. "Us Herons, we do indeed have a natural affinity for music. We fall short in other areas, though, such as combat... So there may come a time where you will have the ability that I lack."

When it comes time for the gift exchange, he gratefully accepts the small crystal, and offers her the small bell he carries tonight.

"The pleasure is all mine. I am Rafiel. I will soon be helping out at the infirmary, so don't hesitate to drop by if you ever need me."

[freedomarrow]

Grief Is Just Love With Nowhere to Go || Village Finale Team 1

@crimsonvassalage @hresvelged @exclted @higaneion @cleversteel

"Move on...?" "I can hardly remember her. To forget about her is just..." "Just...!"

"I'm so sorry Arke. Every time I think of you, I try to remember you as you were, but then I always imagine what you have become."

All the while she speaks, a twitching, broken, shattered monstrosity climbs up from the edge of the cliff towards them, a mangled mess of body parts where they do not belong, as if someone cut out a random piece from a battlefield full of corpses strewn everywhere and placed it in front of them.

Though Leonardo remains silent as Colm, Kris and Pelleas attempt to reason with the mourning voice, within his chest his heart is pounding, jumping, as though it wants to stop.

In the end, it would seem that his stories of bonds and family may have either fallen on deaf ears, or simply made things even worse.

But that does not make them any less true.

Sighing, he steels his resolve and draws two arrows. However tragic it is, one thing remains true - they have to get back home. Even if they must fight their way through.

As the motherly spirit casts a protective enchantment on whatever is left of Arke, and the disheveled mostrosity strikes at Hubert, dealing damage, but also suffering a counterattack that knocks her (it?) off-balance - Leonardo sees the spell wear off and the well-trained eyes find the best moment to let the arrows fly.

Leonardo uses the Hunter’s Volley combat art and attacks Arke with Lughnasadh: 2d20(+6)=20, 15. Crit, Hit Leonardo deals 3.5 damage. Arke HP: 36.5 → 33

Leonardo attacks again (+6 Spd): 1d20+2=16. Hit Leonardo deals 0.5 damage. Arke HP: 33 → 32.5

They strike true, prompting the monstrosity to take a step back with a screech, the empty grey eyes staring at him as though in shock, piercing him with a worse glare than anything he ever received from a Begnion soldier, a laguz, or a Feral One.

They need... to get out of here.

[teneguine]

"Owa-ahem- um... Oberon," Lucina is careful to correct herself, whether the students that still linger in the classroom are paying attention or not, "I had meant to bring you this earlier, but..."

But it didn't feel extravagant enough. Nothing she could give him would ever compare to that which he had given her. In all of their years bound by both blood and friendship, Lucina's mind had never once held the same wonder as his.

For a time she had envied that, had wished to compare to the brilliance her cousin could spout off without even a second thought, but it had taken only a handful of years for envy to wane into admiration. She would never be Owain, but she didn't need to compare to appreciate the companion that he made.

Still, it was a little difficult to rival a giant bird when it came to birthday gifts.

Exalt picks her way carefully through the room and towards his desk, determined despite her own silly embarrassment. Only when she has come to face him finally does she remember to breathe, do her shoulders relax and her lips melt into a smile.

Because she was not Owain, and he had never expected her to be.

"I had this made a bit ago by a local smith... it's all leftover material, but I figured every weapon these came from has a story for you to come up with." It feels silly, she feels silly, but she hands a little linen pouch over to him anyway.

Inside is a bracelet of soft, braided leather adorned with old steel. There's a tiny engraving on the inside, one carved carefully to resemble their shared brand.

"It's no sheath, it doesn't serve any practical purpose, but..." Exalt shakes her head, "I have something from you to carry with me always, I figured it was time I returned the favor."

A hand comes to his shoulder, squeezing gently. Her voice has quieted now, enough so that it does not dare reveal his true name to those still in earshot. "Happy birthday, Owain."

//via birthday asks; no longer accepting

Crimson flashes over his cheeks. Owain has half the mind to remind Lucina that speaking his name in public is an easy way of ruining his mysterious secret. But he can hardly muster up a word before she picks back up again, explaining what sounds like a rigorous process for picking out a gift.

Just this once, he'll let it slide.

"By the blustering axe of Bartre! Lucina, this sounds legendary! You really shouldn't have... But seeing as how you did, let's take a look inside..."

His gaze widens as he accepts the gift, cloth entering the palm of his hand. "It looks small, but..." carefully, his fingers enter from the top. They widen its cinch until they can fit, and as soon as he can feel what's inside, Dark recoils.

"G-GAAHHHH! But its power...!!"

It is unveiled with a dramatic fling, its carrier left to drift onto the floor. Now, unraveled and in the light, it can be inspected by Owain. As his eyes trace over its form, tilting it to get a look at all its different angles, he makes a strange sort of face. Like he's being overwhelmed by dark energies or assaulted by some voice of the abyss. He gives off the impression that the distance he holds it from his face is entirely necessary.

"URRGH! Can't... Control... AUGH! MY ACHING BLOOD!!!"

Dark slips it round the wrist of his branded hand. It's a perfect fit, though one Lucina will not see for long, for he instantaneously flips back and unsheathes his sword.

"This ceaseless artifact of famed might has unleashed the slumbering supernova within my soul!" Reforged steel cuts a clean stroke across the open air. Then again, and a third time for good measure. None of his attacks are aimed at Lucina, but rather some pretend foe he seems to be making up for the sake of expressing his gratitude. "Darkness unending! I could sever the bonds between the fabric of reality and marble of time if I so dared! URAHH! My chosen relic, which I dub The Band of Starlit Might, fuses with the stratosphere of my cosmic form, granting me total invincibility!"

To round out his routine, he lowers his Missiletainn and holds his fist to the sky. There, Lucina can see how the bracelet fits--its brand perfectly showcased on his arm.

"This gift is incredible, o Exalted One! Thank you, from the bottom of my heart!" Dark stops to flash a few more poses, allowing his cousin to get the most out of her gift by watching him enjoy it. Some see him layer his hands over his body to conceal what wishes to remain mystique and reveal what brims with power, others invoke a stronger sort of meaning--either taking the shape of a noble weapon or familiar animal to achieve the effect.

"I shall never take it off," he declares, finally stepping forward to squeeze Lucina against his chest, "not even during bath time!"

[swiftscion]

scales like stardust

continued from here

To express affection is one thing. To let the feeling of love blindside her and lead is as well and fine when it’s her. But to have that feeling--the one she ill understands, the one the actions of another have made her despise--reciprocated in kind? Preposterous. It’s a thing she hardly believes possible, yet with this woman it has happened at every twist and turn.

Larcei’s world has been shaken to its core. She trembles, furious for reasons beyond her understanding, and frustrated at herself for acting this way. Why can’t she just take the butterfly’s winged words at face value? Why does the unshakable feeling that this will be a danger to Lucina cling to Larcei’s back? Surely there is nothing hazardous about wanting her, and yet...

“Hmph!” she pouts, face still half-buried in the other’s shirt, “Maybe I will! From now on, I’m not lettin’ you out of my sight. How’s that?” it’s a game she plays, dancing on a razor’s edge. Her feet flitter between the want for Lucina to be upset by her words, and the sincerity she knows she has--that she would make good on her promise. Bet it sucks, are the words that go unspoken, for the longer Larcei can keep herself in the dark, the more she can deny what is so obviously reality. 

Fate put them together for a reason, after all.

“Maybe I’ll fight by your side in every battle,” she threatens, “be there if you’re sick or hurt, spend every moment of my life thinking about you... You’ll never escape me!” 

She tightens the grip she has over Lucina’s sides. Arms coil tighter and tighter as though mere touch is not enough. Her chin nestles deeper into the hero’s arm, and even through the academy’s thick cloth the heat of Larcei’s cheeks can be felt against Lucina’s skin. The longer they’re together, the less she wants to leave. Slowly hope brims on the horizon, in her rhinestone eyes. Hope that Lucina will not be another case of him, that she can really protect herself, and let Larcei protect her when her own strength is not sufficient. 

Again she pulls closer. A small shuffle of her legs brushes up against the longer ones of the other. Her heart beats with fatigue and yearns from home, but faster than Larcei could have ever noticed, home became synonymous with her. 

//mini for @exclted

[sacaeblade]

@exclted asked:

[ Dip ] - How she ended up caught in the ebb and flow of a dance floor, Lucina will never know.

How she ended up recognizing the newest partner spun into her arms, however, is something of a different matter.

Brows raise, feet determined not to stutter in their rhythm. It'd be nothing short of awkward on a normal basis, to have to waltz with a woman who knows your name to be synonymous with traitor, but the routine has reached perhaps the worst point possible for this encounter.

"Lyn," Lucina's gaze is apologetic, cheeks warm, "I... apologize for this."

What had happened truly wasn't Lucina's fault; just a byproduct of the roles assigned to them by the book. Both in the final battle and in the real world, they were allies even if they had gotten off on the wrong foot. This does not make their relationship any less awkward, much less as they circle each other on the dance floor.

Even their marks are opposed, the unyielding rigidity of earth fighting against the fluidity of water when their hands brush as they enter closed position.

The Exalt dips her, hands supporting her back, and Lyn's breath catches in her throat. She had danced with Florina and Ninian a few times before during moments of levity, but she was easily taller and stronger than both girls. She would've been the one to dip them, not the other way. That another girl could hold her up like this makes her face heat up more than being dipped by any man would.

Suspended above the floor, there's little she can do but look at Lucina's face.Eyes the color of the sky above the plains on a clear day meet eyes the color of windswept grass. Up close, she can see that one eye is a slightly color than the other, ringed silver.

She has quite the handsome face, Lyn notes absentmindedly.

They can't stare at each other forever, though, especially not when the music starts to fade out into a different song. Lyn disentangles herself from Lucina, cheeks still slightly flushed.

"I-it's fine," she waves off the other girl's apology. "It's just part of the dance, right? Nothing you need to apologize for."

[convxction]

When you remember you have to share your daughter with another man--her soon-to-be-husband.

But you remember your daughter is stronk and she can kick his butt if he treated her wrong. haha.

[dcviated]

sof intimacy memer :: open

@sentofight sent: 🌺 - Put a flower in my muse’s hair [lucina and mommy eira!!!!]

The mage knows she shouldn't doubt. Or fear. Or second guess herself. Lucina has shown nothing but happiness during her birthday. And yet Eira can't help but wonder if there was something else she would've done. No, could've done. Naga, she was getting it switched in her head again, wasn't she? This life is not the other, the one that birthed this Lucina and put her in this spot.

...but it's so hard not to fuss! This girl is too beautiful, too wonderful to leave alone! Her daughter. Maybe it'll be the case that she marvels over the truth forever. What happens when they have another child, she and Chrom? ...one thing at a time. This war and this world had to be saved first. How ironic, that she was now tripping over herself with thoughts of family after spurning the concept over her personal growth.

Hard to reach higher than Queen, one has to admit.

Eira sighs, watching with love filled eyes as Lucina goes about the party between friends and other future-children with the food and other gifts. She's granted her a special drawing model, one that would aid with drawing the form and capturing poses. Along with some other supplies as well as a finely crafted fountain pen. Custom engraved. They ... felt odd to give Lucina, and Eira had to suppress the urge to apologize if she was coming across as too patronizing of her daughter's hobby.

Her recollection has distracted her, and before she can realize she's lost track of Lucina the girl has appeared behind her, and a flower is placed into her hair. Eira starts. But is quick to relax with the warm smile Lucina had come to know and love herself.

"Oh no, you're not saying I'm becoming a wallflower or some such with this, now are you, sweetie? I suppose I have been sitting here watching for quite a while." Eira chuckles after touching the delicate bloom. By the feel of the petals its an orchid, one of many that were part of the decorations that Eira had been sure to arrange for this gathering. "Imagine if your father heard me say that he'd have a fit."

"But tonight is about you. Are you ready for your cake? I told you I'd prepare one, did I not?"

[sentofight]

@wayward-sword : Zech, holding his head in distress: "WHY CAN'T I JUST DOTE ON HER INSTEAD???"

Confused look, "E-erm, are you.. okay?" why is he shouting about doting on someone? "Is Aurora okay?"

zech dilemma, again | MFK

[fellmother]

@auratold || Lucina

It is over.

Years of hiding, trapped in a gilded cage of her own making with its door wide open, but one she would only let her child venture out of. Her steps painstakingly calculated, so that Robin might travel on more carefree ones. Years of waking up in the sobering embrace of fear, worrying that this day would be the one where everything gave way. In a way, it feels unreal. Like a hazy dream, despite standing in the very castle she had been raised in once again and title restored. Her people, targets no more. The wars are over. Walhart's conquest was stopped. The Fell Dragon defeated, and her child freed from a horrific fate. She stands now perhaps as the only pillar left of an era finally put to rest.

For that reason, it had made quite a sound argument in allowing her to resume her position engraved into the Plegian throne. A figure who stood once as a staunch protector of the people, part of a bloodline who upheld the same purpose for a millennium and pledged forever to do as much. A symbol of strength and stability-- something familiar; a return to times before the crusade and before the wars. To be the one formally accepting a treaty of peace between Plegia and Ylisse, in the name of a previous ruler from either side who had hoped only to repair relations, it would serve not only tie loose ends, but seal them.

What it had not resolved for Morgana, however, was the existence of one individual.

Lucina.

Not the child she had been introduced to-- not her darling granddaughter, whose steps still fell clumsily but not without purpose. No, someone of the same name and lineage, with an identical brand, but explained to the queen as heralding from a distant, once doomed, future. A story so outlandish that it cracked composure some four decades in the making, and she had laughed heartily at. Dismissed and presumed a joke, she had returned to Plegia, unbothered-- or, at least, until that little jest began to gnaw at her mind, piece by piece.

"You have my deepest gratitude for accepting this invitation on such short notice,"

And that all-too-familiar twist in her heart rose from its slumber.

"Perhaps you are already aware-- I am Morgana, Queen of Plegia. A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

One of the palace's presence chambers is sufficient enough for either outcome-- or so Morgana would like to believe. Neither too informal, should the other's tale prove to be false, nor unnecessarily formal if the fates wish to turn that shred of a chance into reality. And, more importantly, not held atop of ground that grants the other an advantage far too useful in obscuring the truth. Still, not a single foot is placed to bring herself towards 'Lucina', and hands do not move from their loose clasp in front of the woman's stomach. Not yet.

"Now. Since I am sure the journey was tiresome, and you are eager to rest… Allow me to be brief--"

Eyes flitter away from the window, finally resting upon the stranger's features as both corners of Morgana's lips lift to form the shell of a smile.

"--I do not quite believe your little story."

[regnumaves]

U Wanna Go??? ❁ Tibarn & Lucina

@exclted

Another day, another training session, but Tibarn would be the last person to complain. Training is akin to second nature to him - second? More like first, really. A day or two without it are enough to make him feel antsy, like there’s something wrong with him, and he begins to struggle to focus on things properly; and Yune knows he cannot possibly grade the gods-damned assignments like this, not before he uses up some of this excess energy. 

The Hawk’s cry slashes through the air as he strikes one last time, the already damaged training dummy reduced to little more than broken and tattered pieces.

(Hm. Was he allowed to do that? Maybe he wasn’t supposed to do that. Oh well, surely the Academy can afford a new one. Or they can take the cost from his salary, it’s not as though he cares about the money.)

By now, he has grown used to the couple students that always gather by the edge of the training grounds, fascinated by watching him. He gets it, he’s big and strong and a huge bird, which is not a normal sight for them quite yet. If they don’t express interest in sparring, he knows to ignore them, and allow them to spectate. Maybe they can also learn something from this, or at least maybe this can help them get accustomed to him.

What he does not ignore, however, is the sight of another of the faculty arriving at the scene. Sword instructor of the Blue Lions, he recalls, and his natural good memory is quick to supply him with the name.

“Professor Lucina? Good day to you.” He greets her, unshifting as he does - the human-like form is more suited for a conversation. He glances behind him, at the torn apart training dummy, smirking before continuing.

“I just ran out of opponent. If you’re here for some training, maybe you’d like to have a go? I’m curious to see what the Blue Lions instructor is capable of.”

[wayward-sword]

@roseuscrystallum — from this

"Huh? Wait. Why? Are you not also excited about this?"