#Linhardt doesn’t have to go up the stairs

[officialferdinand]

20, Casphardt ❤️

ty!!!!

20. Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference.

(also I'm SO sorry for the angst this is just immediately what my mind went to)

"So many damn stairs," Linhardt mutters under his breath as he stumbles, one hand on the railing and his fatigue pushed to the side.

Caspar glances back at him, grinning. "Want me to carry you?"

Linhardt hopes Caspar catches the eyeroll he gives him before he turns away, back to keeping his eyes on the stairs in front of him.

The Death Knight had ordered their retreat from Myrddin mere minutes ago - and in any other scenario Linhardt would not be in such a rush to keep moving, but it's the way the Death Knight had said it, 'Leave now or all of you will die,' that has him worried.

Linhardt doesn't want to die. He doesn't want to fight. Fighting means death, both for himself, and for Caspar, and for Dorothea and for Ferdinand and for so many other friends.

Wait.

Not Ferdinand.

Not anymore.

It's this thought, this remembrance, that snaps him out of his own head enough to skid to a halt when Caspar stops in front of him, two stairs below.

"Stop, Lin," Caspar reaches back and places a steadying hand on Linhardt's arm. "Do you hear that?"

He's about to ask, 'Hear what?' but he pauses, listening.

It's the aftershocks of what's clearly been a heavy impact, far enough away that it won't impact them but close enough for them to feel the aftershocks. There's the sounds of framework collapsing. Of people screaming. Of footsteps running.

Caspar turns around, and Linhardt doesn't think he's ever seen him look this frightened before. Caspar never gets scared.

"Can you warp us out of here?"

"I can't," Linhardt swallows, still trying to catch his breath. "I'm out."

"Okay. Okay, okay okay okay." Caspar puts his hands in his hair, looking at the ceiling and turning as he frets his bottom lip. "We still have three stories to go. Do you need me to carry you?"

"Caspar."

"Or can you run still? If we can just get out-"

"Caspar."

Caspar sighs, and Linhardt sees the tears welling in the corners of his eyes. He sighs. "Yeah. I know."

"Look at me." Caspar turns back, looking straight up at Linhardt, and he looks so young, and Linhardt wishes he could fix that frightened look in his eyes. Caspar's supposed to be the strong one. Caspar's supposed to be the one who helps him.

"You look short." Linhardt's always been awful at comfort.

Caspar snorts. He moves to step to Linhardt's level, but is stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"It reminds me of old times." Linhardt smiles sadly.

They pause.

"Just like old times," Caspar repeats.

Taking a deep breath, Linhardt moves his hand to Caspar's chin, leaning down and forward.

The kiss is sweet, and sad, and mixed with salty tears. Linhardt strokes Caspar's cheek with one hand, and Caspar grips Linhardt's shoulder in his grasp.

Too soon, much too soon, Linhardt pulls back. He stares at Caspar, and Caspar stares back.

Caspar opens his mouth, then closes it.

He opens it again. "Let's keep moving."

Linhardt nods silently, pursing his lips. There will be time to talk later. And, he commands himself, there will be a later.

And so, together, as they always were, as the always are, as they always will be; they run.

--

send me a ship and a prompt, if you like.

[gemstonerose]

A Gift from Mother

Byleth meets her mother.

Fire emblem 3 houses Cinder Shadows spoilers

Or read on AO3

Shout out to @lady-branwen for all the Sitri content that gave me the inspiration to make this.

Byleth thought that investigating the strange underground of the monastery and figuring out who was snooping around earlier would be quick and easy. That the Lords and her would go in, find a bunch of rats going about their existence, catch the mystery person, and be out by dinner. What she hadn’t planned for was the civilization of people living there. The Ashen Wolves, the protectors of Abyss, were interesting people. And it was a wonder as to how no one had mentioned this secret fourth house even once. Byleth thought that after they assist them and sort things out with Rhea that would be it. Yet, sadly for her that wasn’t the case. Life loved to mess with her and throw one curveball after another in her direction. And then they discovered that Aelfric found her mother’s body down in the Abyss. Since coming to Garreg Mach she’s becoming more in tune with experiencing normal emotions. She doesn’t get the chance to see her mother until the end when they take down the Umbral Beast. Byleth is rightfully upset with how things had happened and demanded that her mother be taken to the surface so she can be properly buried. Jeralt will have to be told the truth about what happened with his wife and that was going to be a headache she wasn’t looking forward to dealing with. Byleth already knew that her father had a distaste for Rhea, and this isn’t going to make it any better.

Rhea thankfully allows her request to be fulfilled without any trouble, “If you can wait here with her, I’ll send some knights to come get her.” Rhea departs on that.

The students gather themselves and assist in mending each other’s wounds. They talk among themselves about what they have just been through and what they will do once this is all neatly tied up. Claude goes over to her, “How are you feeling Teach?” Byleth doesn’t look at him and shrugs as she continues to look to her mother laying still across from her. She feels something, but she knows it’s not some random emotion. At least she thinks it isn’t. “If you want to go see her then do it.”

“Huh?” That breaks Byleth out of her daze and she finally meets his eyes.

“I mean this will be the only time you’ll get to see her. My parents told me that even though people die their spirit is always watching over us no matter how long it has been. Make your peace with her. Let her know that the child she loved and cared for so much made it and became a wonderful person,” the pink dusting Claude’s cheeks don’t go unnoticed by her.

Byleth places a hand on his shoulder. He looks to her and is graced by a small smile, “Thank you.”

Claude’s eyes widen and the blush on his face deepens in color, “Uh sure! No problem Teach! A-anytime!” He stumbles on his words, “I um… I’m going to go make sure Hilda is doing alright.” And he rushes off back to the group.

Byleth takes in a deep breath and makes her way to her mother. It felt like she was being lured to the resting woman by some invisible string. Now that she’s seeing her face to face any doubt she may have had vanished. Jeralt always said that she was practically a spitting image of her mother. Sitri’s hair and face were like hers. Byleth knelt near and looked over the mother she never got to meet. She places a hand atop Sitri’s folded ones which to no surprise are cold. Her chest doesn’t rise, nor do her eyes opened. Byleth would be lying if a small part of her wished that maybe something else would have happened. That maybe her mother would have woken up, but she didn’t. ‘It’s for the best,’ Byleth thinks to herself. She closes her eyes and does a silent prayer for her mother apologizing for everything that had transpired and hopes that she is resting well.

“Professor,” Dimitri, Edelgard, and Claude have come near her. They stay a few feet from the stairs and have sorrowful looks on their faces. “The knights are almost here,” the blond prince informs her.

She nods at the three leaders and stands. “Thank you,” the three nod and begin to turn away. Byleth looks to her mother and mouths ‘Goodbye’ before turning to leave. Then she feels something. That strange feeling pulled her too Sitri and she looks back at her. She hasn’t changed, but she’s suddenly feeling dizzy. The last thing she hears is someone yelling to her before the world goes black.

………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Byleth wakes to the sun hitting her face. It alarms her immediately as she shoots up from the ground. She’s in one of the gardens of the Monastery, but something seems off. The first thing Byleth notices is that she’s wearing a long black dress with coral color lining the cuffs of her sleeves and the trim of her dress. The golden tasseled medallion that she normally wore still hung from her chest. Byleth looked around the area for any signs of life. It only took a moment to notice a woman with long blue-green hair and a white dress tending to the flowers across the small yard. Byleth walked over to the mysterious lady who was a few inches shorter than her and stood a few feet away.

“Excuse me?” Byleth called to the woman. The woman in white stiffened for a moment before she turned herself. Forest green eyes meet Byleth’s purple-blue ones, “Mother?” She breaths out. The small surprise that was present on Sitri’s face faded as she fully faced her daughter and graced her with a small smile. The two stared at each other in silence for a few moments. “How is this possible? I’m not dead, am I?” Something in her stomach twisted. Her wounds weren’t that bad, and what of her students?How would her father react?

Sitri shook her head and stepped closer to her daughter. Byleth stiffened when Sitri brought her hands to cup her face. Sitri studied her, moving a strand of hair that fell out of place, and rubbing her thumb over her right cheek. She was real or at least felt real. Sitri smiled big as she moved her hands behind Byleth’s head and pulled her in for a hug. Byleth was still for a few moments before returning the embrace with a surprising tightness but making sure to not crush the smaller woman. It was nice; comforting even. After a moment Byleth sighed as she rested her face in her mothers’ shoulder. Sitri let out a small laugh as she held her tighter. They stood like that for a long time in the sweet comfortable silence of the garden.

Sitri was the one to pull back. Byleth frowned at the loss of contact. Her mother backed away for a moment as she reached for something in the flowers. Sitri placed the small pink bloom in her daughters’ hands and closed them around it. Byleth looked at her with confusion which soon faded as Sitri cupped her face once again and gave Byleth a bright toothy smile. She brought their foreheads together, “My precious baby,” Sitri spoke in a soft voice. She pulled back just a bit and kissed Byleth’s forehead as the world went white around them.

………………………………………………………………………………………………….

There was mumbling around her. She couldn’t make out who the voices belonged to, but they sounded panic. The more she focused on them the louder they became. ‘Why are they being so loud?!’ she thought in annoyance. She can feel herself groan and the voices stop. A moment later she can hear one of them.

“Teach? Can you hear me?” The male’s voice is edge with a hint of worry. She groans again; her head hurts and she’s tired. “Come on Teach, wake up!” His voice is much clearer now. She knows who this person is. Byleth feels coolness under her legs, but her upper half is floating. There is warmth next to her and something supporting her back.

‘Someone’s holding me?’ Byleth thinks. She can make out other voices. Each of them with a mix of worry coating their tones. Byleth forces her body to move. It works but she doesn’t get far. Something or someone is holding her in place. It takes more effort than it should have for Byleth to will her eyes open. It takes another moment for her vision to focus, but when it does, she is met with worried green eyes staring down at her. Claude sighs in relief and smiles down at her. Yuri is behind him with a hand on his cheek as he sends her a wink. The rest of the Wolves a few feet behind him. Linhardt is crouched on her left as he slowly lowers his hands to his lap. Hilda was right behind him rubbing her eyes as they both let out similar sighs of relief. Byleth lifted her head a bit and was able to spot Dimitri and Edelgard, with their hands over their hearts, loosen their posters and give her small smiles. Ashe was by her ankles wiping tears away from his face.

“Gave us quite the scare there my friend,” Yuri spoke first.

Byleth sighed as she looked around at her students. Her head was pounding, and her body felt heavy. She was about to raise a hand to her head when she felt something. Byleth’s right hand was lightly clenching something. When she opened it a small bloom of pink Valerian flowers rested within it. “So, it was real?” she whispered quietly to herself.

“Huh?” Claude looked at her with curiosity and then to the bloom in her hand. He looked back to her with a raised eyebrow. She cleared her throat as she fought through the pain and willed herself to speak. “It’s nothing,” her voice was still low. She gently closed her hand back around the small pink flowers, “What happened?”

“You just collapsed! And we couldn’t find your pulse for like three minutes!” Hilda shouted. The echo of Abyss amplified the sound as it rung painfully in her head. It made Byleth flinched and she attempted to curl into herself. Claude’s grip on her tightens slightly. By the Goddess was her head exploding.

“Teach?” Claude called to her in a softer worried voice, “What’s going on?”

“Head,” was all she could get out as Byleth closed her eyes once again. Even the dim lighting down in Abyss was proving to be too much for her.

Her students were saying something that Byleth decided not to focus on. Footsteps are heard and fading around her. The arms holding her began to change their positions to under her knees and her back. It’s wobbly at first, but she’s eventually lifted from the ground. “It’s okay Teach, I got you,” Claude softly tells her. Byleth gives him a hum as she rested her head on his shoulder and drifted off to sleep.

[hotheadhero]

Reconcile

“Perhaps you should go to the Goddess Tower and seek her council. Oh, don’t look at me like that! Yes, rumors abound about that place, but it’s also the most private place connected to your goddess here.”

Even as he stands before the entrance of the Goddess Tower with Celica’s advice still fresh on his mind, he can’t bring himself to climb those storied steps and seek divine counsel. For everyone else the tower represents joy, bears witness to fateful promises that will last a lifetime. He has nothing of the sort to make tonight; it would be something like heresy to climb up now. And so he remains at the foot of it, blankly staring up at its peak trying to listen for something he’s never sought out in his life before... and finding, to some distress, nothing at all.

Now, as ever, it would seem he has to muddle through things on his own.

For one normally so hyper, he stands almost statuesque, hand frozen in midair mere inches from the gilded knob. Minutes pass, hours, eons, before he heaves a sigh and, clenching fingers once into a fist, turns away. Exactly what he’d hoped to find here, he doesn’t know... It was stupid of him to even try. Perhaps he’d be better served hunting Linhardt down and apologizing tomorrow. It’s getting late, anyway. Neither of them should be up much longer; and coupling his friend’s general distaste for balls with his own epic (and public) outburst midway through one, chances were just as high the mage had already fled and turned in.

But of course, the goddess still loves her games and whiles. As he trudges back down the short flight of stairs across the cathedral bridge towards his dorm room, who should he find along the way but the very person he wanted most and could least avoid. He looks up precisely when Linhardt does. Their eyes meet. His composure breaks.

Seeing Linhardt again after what feels like ages tears a fresh hole into his psyche. He finds now that all he’s done tonight is delude himself, slap band-aids over his wounds without really assessing their depth. He’s never had any aptitude for healing his physical wounds; whatever made Caspar think he could handle his emotional ones any better? He’s run away from his problems as he always has, never confronting them unless forced; and how it shows when the matter involves someone he can’t run away from, his dear best friend, his fellow student and other half on this same goddess-forsaken campus! The injury is still there, fresh as if he’d torn it now rather than hours prior. It suffocates him, chokes out his power for speech. But speak he must! for he feels the weight of those incredulous accusing eyes on his, near withers under that ocean-ice gaze. Linhardt’s stare is almost frightening when not at their usual half-mast; it pins him like a vampire to the stake. How dare you renounce everything we had? those eyes demand. How dare you go and pretend as if all of this is normal?

“Linhardt, I—”

A wave of emotion crashes over him and drags him under with those two words, as if he’s opened a dam without first seeing how much water it held back. His perfectly rehearsed apology dies in his mouth. He wants to flee but finds himself rooted to drown under the weight of all their past memories. Acceptance. Laughter. Harmless exasperation at Linhardt’s many capricious antics; countless adventures with the other boy in tow. Innumerable times escaping Gilead’s wrath or even Lord Hevring’s. All underscored by an unshakable faith that no matter what he did, Linhardt would always have his back just as Caspar did his. Because they were best friends, brothers from another mother, and they’d never have to fight it out. Because theirs was an unbreakable bond… Up until the moment Linhardt broke it, and everything burned.

(Or was it he who had broken it from the start, and thus he who deserved all the blame? For hadn’t it been Linhardt who’d always had faith in him when even his brother and father did not? Who’d always helped him get back on his feet every time a fight or argument knocked him down? Who’d convinced him he had any shot at any of this when the whole of Enbarr seemed to believe otherwise?)

And he’s my friend besides. He would never lie to me without good reason… Right?

Words fail him as they never do; and Caspar is the first to divert his gaze. His eyes writhe with equal parts anger, guilt, and sorrow. He isn’t blind to the damage he’s done tonight, not at all. He simply doesn’t know how best to make amends.

I can’t deal with this right now.

Then when?

At least you still have the ability to talk to him now. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.

(It is Lloyd’s words that finally rouse him to action, his spiritual older brother with the wise haggard eyes. He can’t allow himself to go the way of Linus, to see Linhardt or himself part ways forever without ever learning the truth.)

“… Why?” he manages at last. It’s a loaded question, far weightier than its one syllable deserves. Why did you lie to me? Why did you break our promise?

Why did you go and leave me behind?

Narrow fingers clench tighter in his palms ‘til they blanche. It's a pain and atonement far too small, he thinks. Pathetic, something hisses inside. Seething with thoughts unvoiced, you dig your own grave even deeper. Did you ever think you deserved such a friend? Dare you think you deserve any at all, after what you yourself did to your best and first most faithful friend?

“I don’t understand.” Not you, not myself. He addresses the air, not his friend’s face; his words drag forth from him, quiet and ragged for what he fears he’s about to hear. ”I thought you wanted me to stay away from you. Grow up, since I haven’t with you always close by. Isn’t that why you left the Eagles for the Deer? Because I’ve done something seriously wrong?”

How it hurts to admit that aloud; but that’s the only thing that can explain all this. Why else would Linhardt dodge his questions and accuse him like that when all he’d done was listen to what he thought he wanted? Ten long years they’ve been friends; he’d thought by now he knew Linhardt’s mind like the back of his hand. Clearly he was in the wrong—and if he’d been wrong about that, what else had he been wrong about? Had he ever really known Linhardt at all?

“I…” Caspar sighs. Head unmoving, his eyes flick up towards the other’s face; but this position makes the back of his eyes ache and so he forces himself to properly meet the mage’s eyes. ”I still don’t think you gave me an honest answer back there, so tell me now. Obviously you didn’t leave the ball early like all the other ones back in Enbarr, so why are you here? Come to tell me off? Go on; I can take it.” Yet his gaze slips sideways again. ”It’s probably nothing I haven’t heard before.”

Oh, but can he? His own words conjure up all manner of past demons – just as they had with Celica, but worse. A formless beast, bearing at times his brother’s face, at others his father’s, appears in his mind’s eye, sinister, venomous. Spiteful. Even Linhardt’s face appears there once, he thinks; and that possibility terrifies him. Julian was right, you know, it whispered, words sinking into his mind like the poisoned claws sinking deep to his bones. You weak, stupid, reckless, irrational cunt. Unworthy of the peerage, let alone of your family’s coveted title. You will never make anything of yourself other than an abject mess. To convince yourself otherwise is the highest of follies. Desist, now. Everyone will be happier with you out of the way.

“If everything you’ve ever done for me was from some misguided sense of pity, then stop. I’m not worth it. Maybe I’ve never been. Not like you.” (Goddess damn it, his hands are shaking; but he can bear it all; he must!) “Just tell it to me straight whether you want me to leave or stay, because whatever we’re not telling each other definitely isn’t helping.”

Honestly, even contemplating the possibility that he could lose his decade-long friend, could already have lost him with his own foolishness, pains him terribly, but maybe things would be better that way. Even if the closure he so desires is spit in his face like his brother’s slander (and Linhardt would be justified in such after what he’s starting to think was an unjustified rant), surely it will be enough to let him move on. Caspar’s sure he can bounce back; he always has… But it will be a damn sight harder without his old friend at his side.

(He’s still not looking at him. He’s too afraid to see what's surely there.)

@linhcrdt

[gascon-en-exil]

FE16 Blue Lions Liveblogging

Chapters 19-20. Much ado about Claude, except the one question I wanted answered.

At this point in Normal mode gameplay is mostly just shuffling through some final classes for endgame, plus trying to finish up as many support lines as possible so I’ve got less to do in subsequent Lions runs. Some of the maps have siege weapons or tomes that cause issues thanks to my various low RES units (although it’s ridiculous how Dedue’s massive HP can soak up 20+ damage at once from Bolting or magic siege turrets), but aside from that the challenge seems to be winding down. Interesting to note how many lategame maps have stairs in them, which hinder cavalry movement and actually encourage them to dismount. Something that makes most of the maps feel shorter than they otherwise would be is that most of them end when you kill the boss. Not that I miss Radiant Dawn throwing almost half a dozen rout maps in your way right before endgame, but I finished Chapter 19′s story map in something like four turns without even rushing. That was barely enough time to appreciate the surprisingly competent NPC AI.

Annette finally got Abraxas, though the visual is a bit disappointing for the ultimate light spell. At least Mercedes is now a holy knight and can be useful again; next time I’d just say keep her as a bishop. Similarly, I might keep Felix as a swordmaster rather than try to get him into mortal savant, because Astra and the boosted crit are both too nice to give up for some so-so magic damage.

Dimitri’s Silver Maiden paralogue had the bulk of the deadly siege weaponry, even more than the supposed impregnable Fort Merceus that gets invaded in Chapter 20. Admittedly that’s because most of my party fears magic more than ballistae (and fliers can just dismount to avoid effective damage), but still. Hubert retreats for a third time in this paralogue; not that I have anything against the guy necessarily, but I hope you eventually do get to kill him.

Caspar and Linhardt however do not retreat when fought at Merceus, and die in a battle neither of them seem to have a reason to be in. I take it Caspar’s presence in the battle where you kill the Death Knight is related to how he and Mercedes share a paralogue presumably regarding the DK’s origins.

At my current rate I’m not going to max out Renown on any of the saint statues. It looks like you’re expected to use NG+ to finish those.

Story/Character observations

Not much with supports this time around, but I’ve been enjoying some of the more pertinent NPC chatter and party banter in the monastery. Shamir is great for this, first pointing out a few chapters previously how strange it is that the army would turn around after Gronder and head the other direction to liberate Fhirdiad, and now contemplating the abrupt merger of the Kingdom and the Alliance. A monk reveals that members of the church are being persecuted and exiled from the Empire, and a random knight relays the story of the Alliance gaining its independence from the Kingdom. When House Leicester’s ruler died without an heir several centuries ago some of the lords of Fhirdiad attempted to set up a republic there under their control, which incited House Reigan to start a rebellion. A republic...inside of a monarchy...controlled by a group of nobles.... I’m not even going to try to make sense of that one.

As regards House Reigan in the present, Claude is as shrewd as ever, drawing the Empire in to besiege his capital because he correctly anticipates that Dimitri will not only retake his own capital but then immediately rush in to play the Alliance’s hero. At least he (Claude) owns up to his recklessness as well as his self-interest, which sees him abandon the Alliance (along with his Relic, which surprised me as I thought the house leaders’ were personal weapons...I guess only Byleth is special enough to have one of those) and Fódlan entirely. This is one of the only instances of Dimitri and Claude interacting in the entire game, and, having just watched the Claude/Lorenz supports today on YouTube, it’s sad to say that these two have more chemistry in one conversation than Claude does with his quasi-retainer in an entire support line. It’s nothing compared to all the homoerotic longing going on in the Lions, and I’m aware that Claude asking Dimitri to go easy on him the next time they meet is most likely a sly way of suggesting they’re going to do so on the battlefield after Claude raises an army in Almyra and tries to take over all of Fódlan or something, but it’s something for anyone still into Claumitri. 

The understated threat to fix racism by foreign invasion (which I think is what Claude’s long game is revealed to be on the Deer route?) is a classic case of FE setting up a situation where its apparent happy endings don’t turn out so happy after a while, but on a similar note I was surprised to see Arundel killed off in Chapter 19. I know from spoilers that he’s really Thales, the leader of Those Who Slither in the Dark, so even though the Lions route gets flack for never returning to that larger threat to peace in Fódlan it seems like Dimitri took care of the problem without realizing it. Yay?

One question I do have about that group though is whether they really are the people they publicly appear to be or whether those people - Monica, Tomas, Arundel, possibly even Cornelia based on some descriptions of her - were quietly killed by the organization and the replaced by impersonators.

But here’s my big unanswered question for Claude on this route: why was he at Gronder? This is never addressed. There’s no way even he could have predicted that Dimitri would have a change of heart and turn around to liberate Fhirdiad after the battle. Was he attacking the Kingdom forces as part of creating an illusion of a united front for the Alliance, to placate the Empire? It obviously didn’t work because the Empire’s next move was to invade the Alliance. While this headcanon does play into Claude’s affinity for deceit and ability to adapt to change it still doesn’t feel quite right.

Oh, and at the very end of Chapter 20 Dimitri is called back to Garreg Mach via messenger, giving some kind of explanation to the increasingly silly practice of your army returning to the monastery after each major victory. It really doesn’t help with the perception that everywhere in Fódlan is at most a few days’ march away from there.

[lananiscorner]

The Felannie Playthrough Part  17 - There’s A New Teacher In Town

The Felix & Annette Only playthrough continues, with chapter 16, in which I finally get back Lorenz and Dedue.

For once, I did not begin the month with an exploration. I had enough people motivated for the next lecture day and would rather have dinner with my people during the Fish Bounty Festival in week 2, so I chose to do auxiliary battles instead and level up Byleth, Gilbert and Dimitri a bit, since my goal is to get everyone to level 30 and into a master class (except Yuri, who really has no decent master class to go for).

I explored in the second week instead. My saint statues were fully upgraded at this point, so now I could focus my Renown on the Influencer in Abyss. The Mysterious Teacher was very impressed with Felix and Annette (who capped out her HP thanks to all those stat boosters I got from the auxiliary battles):

I spent all my points on tea with Felix and Annette as well as dinners with people I want to see paired endings for (Bernie/Linhardt, Felix/Annette, Ingrid/Sylvain, Hanneman & Lysithea, Petra/Ignatz). In doing so, Felix and Annette reached their final support level. I can't wait to get Dedue and Dimitri back for meals with Mercedes and Marianne.

In week 3 Annette finally certified into Wyvern Lord and Linhardt into Cavalier, which meant I could now do his paralogue with Leonie. First, however, I did the Taking Care of Business quest to unlock the Dark Merchant, so that Annette could finally use as many Levin Swords as she wants and stay in Wyvern Lord.

Next, I did the Linhardt/Leonie paralogue. The recipe for success here is surprisingly easy:

Have Byleth and Leonie in flying classes, Linhardt either in flying or riding.

At the start of the map, send all three of them south and to the left, out of range of the wyvern lords and sword users. Kill the brawler with one character and wait in range of the wyverns in the front (I used Felix for this). Send the second character (Annette) to the stairs by the right to draw out all the sword users.

Carefully use your fighters to clear the map, especially of bow users.

Move the three mandatory participants to the northeast: Byleth and Leonie over water near Indech where they are out of reach of reinforcements, Linhardt onto the respawn tile of the swordmaster, just north of the second chest.

Park one fighting character in front of Linhardt so reinforcements cannot attack him. Defeat Indech with the other character, kiting in and out of his range to keep his barrier down.

If you are doing a solo run, get Linhardt on a wyvern and park him on the water instead (I could have done that too, but I could not be bothered to level his axe rank, which he is weak in, to B).

Last but not least, I did the Eternal Guardian paralogue. This one did not worry me too much until my nemesis struck again: anti-magic armor. I had completely forgotten that golems can't be hurt by magic or magic weapons, so Annette was as good as useless here. Their Lances of Light+ also do magic damage which was... not great for Felix. This one ended up taking longer than expected, but at least Annette got to practice some healing.

In week 4, I used DLC auxiliary battles to level up my last three under 20 characters: Dorothea, Flayn and Hanneman. After that, I tackled The Great Bridge Coup, which was so forgettable, I forgot to keep notes. Mostly I was just happy to have Dedue back at last. Fun fact: doesn’t matter which character you defeat Lorenz with if you had recruited him in White Clouds--I Nosferatued him with Annette and he still joined.

Now I just need Dimitri to break out of his psychotic episode and I will finally have a full roster again for all activities.

[hotheadhero]

The first thing Caspar realized when he woke up was: This isn’t my ceiling.

In another context, that might not be so alarming - every so often he’d crash on Linhardt’s bed instead of his own when he was just too worn out to climb the long flight of stairs back up - but what he saw above his head looked so completely unfamiliar to him that he promptly bolted upright in his bed.

He should have clocked himself into next week, he came at that too-hard, too-close steel-wooden frame so fast, but instead his head passed right on through and he was greeted with a field of pitch-black, glinting randomly in places like metal. Caspar squinted - somehow the simple reflex did much to improve his night vision, but still, none of it was anything he recognized. Packed cotton, thick twine here and there, and several heavy coiled springs interspersed throughout... If he didn’t know any better, he might think he’d ended up inside his own mattress somehow. A self-deprecating laugh escaped him, and he absentmindedly raised a hand to pinch himself. Some crazy dream, right? He’d never even seen a bed mattress be assembled; how would he know what one looks like inside--

No pinch. No pain. Caspar took one look down at himself, and screamed.

“SHIT, what--?!?” Shock and terror sent him flying into the rafters (higher than he had any right to be), and he realized that he’d never actually left his dorm room at all. What’s more, his sight was wreathed in faint glowing cyan and he was floating, digging incorporeal fingers into and through the planks as if doing so would keep him grounded in this world he’d so prematurely left. There was no body in his bed; the sheets were rumpled but showed no sign of having been slept in; and he was pretty sure there’d be no body underneath his bed even though he knew now that was where he’d woken up this morning. 

I’ve been turned into a ghost. The rest of him already knew it but his head and heart were still in denial. Still, there was little other way to explain this literal out-of-body experience. Only - where was his body? The one book he could recall ever reading about ghosts had said they were malevolent spirits chained to the world of the living by some lingering regret, usually embodied in some physical object that needed to be destroyed to release their prisoner. But what about reversing the spell? He didn’t want to go away just yet; he still had so much left to do! He hadn’t even managed to accomplish his dream!

“Oh, what do I do, what do I do, what do I DOOO--!!”

Frustration and panic tore from him in an unearthly sound he hadn’t even known he was capable of making. He could feel his heart - or whatever passed for it in this ghostly form - racing, literally threatening to blow him to pieces. Could ghosts even blow themselves apart with their own evil energy? Scratch that - he didn’t want to find out.

Caspar had never been known for restraining himself, but with his very life on the line, somehow he managed to wrestle his fear down to a low boil. Think, Caspar. There has to be some way out of this. This had to be a curse of some kind, right? Or a spell? He could brainstorm all he wanted, but only a mage could give him any definitive answers, and that was assuming they even knew what had caused this mischief in the first place. 

Hubert. Linhardt. Celica. One of those three had to be able to help him, right? Hell, he’d take anyone with a magical enough look to them, as long as he could sleep in his bed like a normal human again. Or eat. ... Oh, goddess, did ghosts get hungry? Would he ever get to enjoy the dining hall’s food again?!?

Fuck - That tearing sensation again--

No. Don’t get distracted. Try not to think about that... or the way you don’t need to open the door to go right through. Mage. Find one.

It was night out. Here and there a lamp-flame flickered. Silence. Odds were low that he’d find anybody wandering around campus right now, but maybe the library would have some answers. Or the mages’ dorm rooms. He didn’t know how long he had to reverse this, but time was short - either one of them would do. He’d simply have to try his luck.

...

Non-IC thoughts and rules below the cut.

Spontaneous April Fool’s writing, just because Caspar has a name-alike. Also, the mages named above are only there because Caspar has had canon and/or TOA interaction with them - I am by no means narrowing his interactions to just those three. If all this intrigues you, feel free to interact with ghost-Caspar however or with whoever. I’ll take asks, submits, or reblogs of this scene-setter/starter. Just be sure to get your ideas in my inbox, notices, or DMs before April 1, 11:59PM PST (might be flexible with long thread ideas). I left open where he goes first, but ghost Caspar can be found anywhere he normally hangs out as well as the above stated other locations. Or anywhere at all, really.

Given that this idea has only existed for as long as it took me to write this, I don’t have a lot of premeditated constraints for ghost Caspar other than the following:

He’s effectively made of mana/an energy-being here. If he’s stuck in this form too long, he may need to leech off someone’s magical (or life?!?) energy.

What happened to his body?!? Could be stolen or transmuted or something else entirely; you decide! (Or it might differ by interaction?)

At base, he looks like himself but glows faint cyan (like his hair, but electric). He’s easier to see at night and near impossible to see in day. Magically attuned people OR people observant enough to notice a “heat mirage” effect when the temperature really isn’t hot enough to have one may still be able to see him even in daylight, though.

If he gets too emotionally distressed, his form distorts and fuzzes out - think old TV static meets Photoshop Liquefy/Shear. Same happens to his voice - the latter scream could be likened to a banshee’s.

He can talk to anyone who sees him, or to anyone who doesn’t via dreams/possession. Possessing someone in broad daylight (e.g. to hold conversation, though theoretically it could be done to frighten someone?) might manifest physically, e.g. host feels their body temperature drop, or their eyes change color.

He can move physical objects if he concentrates. This might look like repeated attempts to grab/clench an object if you can see his full incorporeal form, or a cyan wisp of variable thickness/opacity if you can’t. 

Ironically, being made of pure mana here, he might have an easier time casting spells than he would normally. Too bad he has no affinity for dark magic. (Fire and wind could blow apart his form; he retains his fear of thunder and lightning; and he might be able to pull off a supremely weak “Sagittae” if it ever came up... e.g. one "arrow”, and more a stylus at that.) Nosferatu would come surprisingly easy thanks to the whole mana vampire HC.

[hotheadhero]

Height Advantage || Caspar & Leon

[ starter for @thefetchingfletcher ]

“Ooh, that Linhardt. He makes me so mad…”

The robin-haired lad fumed as he stormed out of the reception hall. What did Linhardt know about the strategy of brawling? He could barely even get to class most days, let alone get himself caught in a fight! Height advantage, pah! Even if he might’ve had a point about taller people being able to attack from farther away, everyone knew you could nullify that advantage simply by crowding into them instead!

… is what he would like to say, but every single one of the taller Knights of Seiros he’d brawled with so far had summarily knocked him on his backside in record time. He was so sick of losing to all these tall guys! They weren’t even stronger than him!

“‘Brute strength alone doesn’t decide a fight’, what does he know…” But somewhere inside Caspar, a seed of doubt had begun to sprout, watered by all of his recent losses against taller folks. Did Linhardt really have a point, after all? … No! He couldn’t just give in and believe that! Surely there were a few tall guys he could beat up on campus, right? It would be better to ust beat up a bandit or some other evildoer in town, but his bruised ego couldn’t simply wait for such a perfect opportunity to show up, not when Garreg Mach had been so peaceful this entire month. Caspar’s grumbled imprecations trailed him all the way out into the gardens just north of the dining hall, where students were milling about now that the regular lessons were over. Maybe if he could brawl with someone who was more evenly matched with him, he could finally gain the upper hand. Caspar swept a critical gaze over the assembled crowd, scanning for the tallest head of them all. He couldn’t possibly let this slight against his honor as a brawler stand! If he could just find Raphael, Sylvain, Dimitri, or even Dedue, he’d be set; but really, anybody taller than him would do, and that was a depressingly low bar to surpass when he had yet to hit that growth spurt everyone older than him already had. But oddly enough, none of the students he really wanted to brawl with were even there in the quad, and there were too many girls here besides. The robin-haired lad frowned as he cast a worried gaze towards the marketplace. Was he going to have to fight another knight (and probably lose again, the cynical corner of his brain whispered), or venture out and patrol the nearby town with someone looking for a thief or bandit? Wasn’t there someone right here he could fight…

Aha! There, on the loft overlooking the fishing pond! Caspar could see a tall-looking violet-haired student standing there, looking for all the world like he was simply watching the water below. From behind, he looked a little bit like Lorenz, but from what little Caspar knew of the haughty Golden Deer noble, Lorenz didn’t stand like that or grow his hair quite so long. And something about the mystery student’s bearing was different as well, but Caspar just couldn’t place it… Was he an exchange student, or just an unfamiliar noble? No matter. Caspar grinned as he cracked his knuckles and strode towards the guy. Maybe if he was lucky, this tall guy was a total pushover in combat. He could almost see his (first) victory in his head!

But it wouldn’t be wise to start their relationship off with a punch to the face, now would it? And Caspar considered it beneath him to launch a surprise attack anyways. So after rolling his shoulders once each to make sure they were nice and loose, he ascended the stairs straight up to the guy and plunked his elbows down right on the balcony next to him. “It’s nice to see the pond thawing out after winter, isn’t it?” he remarked casually. “Lots of fish in there; it’s a great time of year for seafood lovers. Do you like seafood? I prefer game meats, myself.”

The robin-haired lad cast a sideways glance at his new companion. Yeah, he sure didn’t look like anyone from the noble families he recognized. His uniform confirmed that he was a student of some sort, but Caspar wondered if he was perhaps unfamiliar with the academy at large. He didn’t know what gave him that impression; the other student seemed collected enough—maybe it was some instinct thing or whatever. Turning fully about to face him, Caspar stuck out a hand. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” he commented. “I’m Caspar, one of the students in the Black Eagles house. And you are?”

… Yup, this guy was definitely tall. This close, Caspar had to crane his neck a bit to meet his eyes.

Bingo.

[hotheadhero]

[For the 14th] There is a knock on the door, and the sound of feet skittering away. A small box lies in front of the door, within is a new Hunting Dagger - Brigid made, with a whetstone to keep it sharp. A note accompanies, “Let nothing dull that vital spirit.”

He’s in the midst of attempting to study (or more accurately, still reading his textbook in hopes that something will sink in with enough repetition) when a knock at the door startles him from his stupor. Caspar leaps up, all too happy to get away from his book and see who it is that’s visiting him at this hour. His chair falls over backwards in his excitement–it would seem that even the few extra seconds he spends righting it again are enough for his unexpected guest to vanish into thin air. Confused, he looks up and down the hall. No one.

Disbelievingly, he checks both ends of the hall again. “Hmm…” Who or what could have knocked at his door? Can’t be Linhardt–the other boy hates climbing the flight of stairs that separates their rooms, and especially if he did go to the trouble, he would still be here to make sure Caspar knew all about it. He doesn’t hear any doors suddenly slamming shut, either, which rules out anyone else on this floor. (Not that he could imagine any of his fellow housemates playing such a prank on him anyways–especially not his house leads.)

By chance, his gaze falls upon the floor, and more specifically the small box upon his doorstep. It’s a plain little thing, unadorned by anything save a simple letter written in a hand he doesn’t recognize: Let nothing dull that vital spirit.

“What’s this?” he wonders aloud as he picks it up. “Some kind of present?” By the note, he would guess this was from someone who’d seen him fight before, or maybe eat, but in both activities he was more likely to be scolded for his recklessness than praised for anything. Doubtful any of them are on his “most probable random gifter” list, either (actually, there is nobody on that list; he figures he’s neither observant nor lovable enough for that). So who–

His question falls away as he sees what’s inside the box: a shiny hunting dagger, hilt painted and engraved in the traditional Brigid style, and a whetstone to match. Caspar’s eyes widen: How did this gifter know this was exactly what he’d wanted? (Had he even told anyone about this?)

“Alright!” he cheers, heedless of the fact that it’s supposed to be quiet hours. “I have no idea who you are, buddy, but this is the best thing I’ve gotten in a while!” As the door to his quarters swings shut behind him, the boy takes up a stance in the middle of his room and stabs at the air several times, his studies all but forgotten in favor of playing with his new toy. Aw man, he can’t wait to try this out on his next hunting trip! And maybe if he happens to catch whoever gave him this staring at him, he can thank them properly too!