#PIRRHYC

[machiot]

@pirrhyc sent:

“ Ah! I'm sorry! ”‎‎‎ ‎ Fortunately for Pelleas, when he had accidentally bumped into a server and then spilled his drink, it at best only splashed a little bit on Marni's shoe rather than over her entire ensemble. However, it still did hit her a bit, and there's just something that tells him that he'd regret it if he went without expressing some kind of apology.

“ I, er, have a handkerchief. Hold one moment, please, ”‎ ‎ he asks, kneeling down and taking out his handkerchief to wipe at the front of her shoes.‎ ‎ “ Hopefully that shouldn't leave any residue or… ”

He stares up at her.

“ Oh no. You're angry with me, aren't you? I'm sorry, I really am! ”

Marni's presence is, in a word, loud. She would prefer the term "eye-catching", but the fact remains that generally speaking, she tends to draw a lot of attention. This is by design, of course. She likes the attention, likes the way that people acknowledge her if she dresses flashily. Even if people give her a wide berth, it just means they're paying attention to her.

This is also why she doesn't expect anyone to bump into her.

It's not really a big spill and it's hardly even noticeable against the dark leather of her shoes. What bothers her is the fact that it happened at all.

"What, you've got all that height and you can't even use it to watch out for people?" Marni taunts, staring down at the man's sullen face. "What were you gonna do if you got it on the white parts, huh? Woulda offered me your neck?"

This guy is just like her brothers; bumbling, utterly incompetent, and a total loser. What, by all means, had been just a simple accident now makes her grind her teeth.

She holds out her hand. "Yeah, I'm super angry. I see you have a feather. Gimme it."

[frauleindermorgen]

       Pelleas has never been particularly gifted at hiding his emotions, teeming to the brim as they are wont to be. The entire time he's invited himself over to Micaiah's dorm to spend the night, it is clear he is on edge, a bit distracted. He mistakes the feeling at first for fear, nerves on edge as the minutes while away.

Micaiah's going to go to sleep. She likes to meet the dawn. Will he have enough time? It feels like such a doomed prospect; he feels stupid for even trying. She can probably feel all this nervous energy from him, and that could hardly be fun to deal with, he imagines.

Settled into bed with her but completely unsettled, it's when the clock strikes midnight that he at last can let it out.

“ Happy birthday, Micaiah! ”

A beat passes until realization sets in.

“ ...Ah, that came out a bit louder than I anticipated. Sorry, ”  he quickly apologizes, lowering his voice back to a whisper.  “ I was just so nervous, waiting all this time to make sure I didn't mess up the timing of it... I wanted to be the very first one to tell you that this year, worried if I didn't say it then, you'd wake up before me and go out and then somebody else would beat me to it. But now that I think of it, I guess it was a little silly. I'm glad I did it, but... There was a better way to go about it, probably. ”

He sighs but it turns into an awkward laugh.

“ I'm sorry, really ”  Pelleas repeats.  “ I'll let you sleep soon, I promise, but can you hold still for me for a little bit? ”

He climbs out of her bed and reaches for his bag that he had brought his spare change of clothes in, fishing out a hair pin. It is black save for the sight of a tourmaline spider lily decorating it, and when he returns to her, he fumbles as he fixes it into place at the side of her fringe, letting the moonlight catch the gemstones in it. 

“ There. My birthday gift to you. I remember you in Midsommar looking at something like this. You said it was cute. ”  He knows it had been in reference to her trying to find an accessory that looked good on him rather than her, but looking at her with it on now, he can't imagine himself comparing at all to her with it.

His expression melts as he does his usual spiel.  “ The spider lily... it's a flower with bad omens. I know I shouldn't have given it to you, knowing that, but most people fear it because it blooms where death does. But do you know why it does that?

“ The spider lily is given to protect someone in death. It's supposed to save you from curses and bad spirits, and it carries with it a hope that when you are reborn, you shall be safe and sound. ”  Death is inevitable, this flower cries, but it still tries valiantly in the face of that.

He rejoins her, sitting down on the edge of her bed.  “ There's a story with it too. I won't tell you all that now, but... I suppose the way you can think of it is that it also is meant to tell your lover, 'I want to run away with you.' ”

He lets that meaning sit with her, worried anything that he said would ruin it. Instead of elaborating on it further, he merely smiles warmly at her, not wishing to wish for too much from her.

“ It really is pretty on you... But anyway, happy birthday again, Micaiah. I'm glad I got to tell you again... ”

For who knows when the last time he'll be able to do so shall be?

Birthdays are a truly unique part of her Garreg Mach experience, as are the many trinkets she has collected in relation: the handmade rose-embroidered cloth and gloves from Elincia, Soren’s bracelet of interlocking birds, as well as Pelleas’s pouch inside of which is the matching ribbon and a few pressed flowers: all are kept inside a wood box Micaiah had bought for herself still only half-believing the need for it. It sits on a shelf beside the journal from Lachesis, near filled now, next to the mysterious “fountain pen” and her favored quill.

Sometimes she gets distracted just looking at them all – she never did know what to think of others’ admiration of material possessions outside of what was immediately useful but looking at each, memories rising up warm as ever, she finds she is now much closer to some understanding.

Tonight she is finishing a paper she has been persistently editing for her class on Neo-Politics in the Leicester Alliance – a topic she finds fascinating, but is apparently quite controversial with some of those native to Fodlan, and so she feels near cross-eyed from fact checking each source though she will get it done.

Pelleas had helped her a great deal in the days leading up to the final submission, but now she wants to look at the flaws on her own; which is to say, she is perfectly happy to have him in her room wrapped in her bedsheets but she will be doing this final check alone.

He doesn’t seem to mind, at least not unduly – the nervous energy coming off of him is just that, frenetic rather than hurt and as Micaiah makes herself one more cup of strong tea she really cannot quite tell who’s nerves she is picking up on.

“Alright,” she says finally, when she feels a headache non-caffeine related coming on, “I’ve done all I can. If any of the old guard from the Kingdom or Alliance, or goddess forbid my own house leader, wish to debate me I will simply take it in stride.”

Saying this she finally begins to get ready for bed as she has announced she would at least an hour ago, falling into it a bit dramatically knowing Pelleas will be there to catch her – and this too, is dangerous, falling without looking; with nothing to catch her but that trust but just like the transient warmth she feels every time she looks at reminders of her “birth” it feels too good to give up.

She’d like to take this moment back too alongside her gifts to the palace. To know the same moonlight there might blanket their embrace, though the stars might change; she thinks to bring it up actually, drifting in her thoughts, when Pelleas speaks first.

(Or shouts?  He’s certainly excited, but just as Pelleas’s emotion ebb and flow in such a unique way so too does his tone of voice. It’s never bothered her so authentic as it is).

“I told you I’m always happy to hear it, didn’t I?” She chuckles, rising to a seated position as he does the same.

She lets Pelleas’ words come into being, one rolling over the next with the same burble as a river and finds herself smiling wider – so that’s what he had been thinking! She never would have guessed. (Perhaps forgetting your own birthday was another birthday tradition, she will have to ask when she finds someone who might be knowledgeable regarding such a thing).

Micaiah holds still, and doesn’t mention he needn’t have worried about being the first to greet her – because as used to walking in the morning as she was, she hadn’t planned on leaving him, the sun being as good a blanket as the moon in her opinion. She sees the gem only for a moment before he pins it to her hair but the shape of the flower is familiar from her reading and finds herself nodding along.

“Mm… you know it’s rather fitting being the Priestess of Yune and a Branded myself that I should be given something called ominous, I think. It’s no less beautiful for it.”

Rebirth, he mentions; and as gladdened as she is by the rest of his speech the hope in her eyes dwindles only a bit - is that what will happen to you, she thinks? Will your soul have enough to go on? Or would her own desires and the spirits tie him down… she wonders, placing the guardian flower in his own hair for a moment just to see how it looks.

“I thought I had been doing my own research, but you always know so much! I like that, a flower meant to protect from death despite what an insurmountable object that is; I’ve read too you can plant spider lilies around rice paddies and other vegetables to keep them safe from mice or other pests. I suppose they’re always protecting us in some way then…”

She takes the pin from him again, and reaches over him to place it on the desk before pulling him back down with her; “I’m confused about one thing though, Pelleas,” she chortles, “shall we run away together now or shall we go to sleep?”

Daein was too cold a climate for spider lilies to flourish, but she wants to see them with her own eyes, hand in hand with Pelleas if she can. And she tells him this – uncaring for this one moment, that she has tied him to her once again with another promise, as for now she can feel his warmth. She cannot put that in a box, but she will remember.

[freedomarrow]

“ Oh, there you are, Leonardo! ”  Pelleas calls out as he approaches the archer, gift parcel in hand.  “ A merry Winter Festival to you. I hope I'm not bothering you or anything, but I have a gift I wanted to give you for the day. ”

And so the wrapped box exchanges hands between the two of them. When Leonardo opens it, inside is revealed to be a collection of books.

“ I remember you said you were considering returning to your family's lands. I don't know if you've made your decision yet but I thought if you were still thinking about it, you might find some use out of these... They're tomes I've found on governing. I had to self-teach myself a lot after Izuka disappeared... ”  A veil of gloom eclipses Pelleas's face then, but he tries to speak past it nevertheless.  “ So I tried to find texts in Daein's library back then on the subject... see if the kings before me had anything they had left behind. Those were the ones I found most useful. Oh, um, excuse any notes you see in the margins though. Those might be mine. ”

And true to his word, if Leonardo thumbed through some of the pages, something resembling chicken scrawl could be found on the edges of old parchment.

“ I realized eventually to start taking my own notes elsewhere, but some of them still have my handwriting anyway... but the information in there is still good! I can promise you that. I'm, um, here to try and help you if you need. For Daein. But also for your sake too... whatever you decide, Leonardo, I'd like to be of some help if I can manage it. ”

During the days of the Dawn Brigade, opportunities to indulge in gift-giving were few and far between, and even if they did happen, said gifts were small and practical; a new shirt, a quiver of fresh arrows, an extra portion of food, the works. All across Daein, people tried their best to keep at least tiny sparks of joy alive even as they fed themselves mere scraps, and it was thoroughly bittersweet to both watch and be a part of.

But a desperate soul will find a positive twist in just about anything. He has come to understand, over time, that it served to teach him to appreciate even the smallest of things - things that, as he realized, he would be hard-pressed to so much as notice as a "proper noble". After all, the higher above the ground someone sits, the more difficult it becomes to see the details beneath, however beautiful they may be.

And he appreciates them to this day; after all, being remembered meant that someone had to put in extra effort for his sake.

So it surprises him a little when he hears Pelleas' voice calling him, and turns to see the former prince with a box in his hands meant for the archer. The initial mild confusion is steadily replaced by a light smile - he would not want the other to think him ungrateful, after all - and a quiet "thank you" as he accepts the gift. As he hears Pelleas out, he carefully unwraps it, his hand rubbing across the cover of the tome on top.

His expression widens a hint after the Sorcerer finishes talking, staying silent for a moment longer before speaking out himself.

"Thank you, Pelleas." It has taken a while, but he has finally grown to more consistently say the other's name without tripping against the honorific. "I don't mind your notes in the books at all! If anything, they'll probably come in handy..."

Looking up at him, Leonardo continues. "I haven't made the final decision yet, but... They were inviting me to attend their harvest festival recently. It ended up being, well... busy around here, so I wasn't able to go, but..." Sigh. "They've been trying to subtly let me know here and again that they want me to stay, so... I'm considering it more and more."

A huff - not long enough to qualify as a chuckle, but with amusement audible in it nonetheless - escapes him before the blond offers Pelleas a nod, his smile now much warmer than in the beginning.

"... So these will probably come in very handy. Thank you, I appreciate it a lot. I hope you have a good Winter Festival, too."

[justices-blade]

“ Edward! ”  This year, Pelleas approaches the swordsman in person rather than hiding behind a letter.  “ It's difficult to believe it's already been a year since you've arrived here. You look stronger already, so you'll find me a little jealous. ”

He laughs it off even if it might be a little bit true. But regardless, there's still something else to be done! Without any smooth transition, Pelleas holds out a wrapped gift for the brunet.  “ Here, from me to you for the Winter Festival. I hope you don't mind... ”

It's a fairly small box, and once unwrapped, it reveals a very small pouch (?) inside bearing a camouflage pattern. But in actuality...

“ If you open it inside-out, it unravels to become a normal-size lightweight blanket. I saw it in the market and thought of you. ”  It is at this point the dark sage looks a bit guilty, glancing away as his head hangs a little low.  “ Truth be told, when I was King, I happened to overhear that you really like sleeping... but I also couldn't help but see you always out and about. Just like Micaiah, you'd leave the castle walls often, didn't you? ”

Days of always watching the Dawn Brigade from afar, only learning these kinds of details from word of mouth or what little observations he could afford to make...

“ So I was thinking something that you could carry around with you easily without taking too much space, something that didn't limit where you went but still allowed you to do this kind of thing... It made perfect sense to me, but I guess from someone who doesn't talk to you much, this might be a little creepy, isn't it? Sorry. But I hope it's at least useful even if it might be off-putting. ”

Being able to see people up close is a two-way-street by necessity — Both of them need to stay in orbit of one another, submitting to mutual gravity. For as little as Pelleas could speak to him in person as they marched, Edward likewise couldn't really approach if he was held at arm's length or longer, even if he wanted to. Of course, he could be insistent about it, but when a man's wanted, needed as a king, who's a common Nevassan boy to butt into that? As oblivious as he was, he at least had enough tact to know his place, and to know when he's being — Not avoided, that's not quite right. Just kept away from. So the distance stayed, chain of command drawn tighter than that of association or familiarity.

'Know his place' — Hah, well, did he ever really? Does he really need to, now? Because he knows he doesn't want to anymore. The sentiment's been there a while — Since he saw that lost prince and saw bits and pieces that reminded him of himself, stamped out but still shining like embers, since he received Caladbolg, but not from Pelleas' own hands, not like how a knight would receive honor from his king, since he got that welcoming picnic, that illusion of power, that dance and that talk, that departing gift.

In defiance of that past, he's been throwing that door open, reaching out. So he's more than delighted that Pelleas is here, in the flesh, reaching back. He turns towards the other with a jingle of the bell on his hat, and his entire face lights up at the sight of the other — He scratches his cheek bashfully with an 'aw, shucks' at the opening compliment, before readily accepting his gift with open curiosity...

Delight comes back in full force once Pelleas explains the gift, so much that he starts unpacking it on the spot; To lift the pouch out of the box and feel the weight and feel of it in his hand, to stick his fingers through the drawstring to gauge how warm and comfy it'll be. The verdict comes back as an oh yes, absolutely, and without thinking, Edward pulls Pelleas into a hug.

Mmmaybe it's for the best he never did receive Caladbolg in person, actually.

"It's perfect! Thank you so much!" Edward exclaims, before remembering himself and pulling away, though his hands still hover wildly over the other's shoulders, still electrified with joy. As embarrassing as it is for his reputation to be mixed up with his love for naps of all things, it's part of it for good reason, and really means that the gift really is perfect —

"Heck, I'm so glad you thought of me," He clutches the blanket-pouch again, squeezing it gently and beaming up at the mage. "You're really thoughtful, you know that? Goddess, this really is..."

He pauses, for a moment, suddenly determined, excited all over again, starting to rifle in his own bag. "Wait! It's not as perfect as this bad boy right here, but —!!"

And he pulls out a little knit satchel with a scented wooden bookmark stuck into it, places it into Pelleas' hands insistently, clasping his own around the others to really impress the gifting on him. "Here! For you, from me! Stuff I picked up after thinking of you. I don't know how fitting it is, but lemme know if there's anything you like next time, okay?"

"I don't mind you talking to me more at all, promise!"

[hosannan]

[ Wish ] “ Ah, Nanna, was it? It's been quite some time, ”‎ ‎ Pelleas calls out to the princess.‎ ‎ “ I remember last time we met, it was at the Ethereal Ball too. Though obviously, it was under very different circumstances... ”

Despite this, the situation that brings the two together carried a similar connotation. This year, countless stars streak across the sky— the open invitation to make a wish.

“ Last time, you gave me your wish, saying I was in need of one. Do you still forfeit your wish this year? ”

He says it with a bit of challenge, but in contrast to that, he takes one of his white feathers and holds it out to her in offering.

“ A wish is a thing that might need wings to sprout. Or perhaps I made that up to justify giving you my brooch decoration in return for your flower last year. Who could really say...?”

"My! Sir Pelleas, it has been quite some time! Your furred cape is so elegant, I must say." He was and always had been a fascinating one. There's a touch of something more, like a tartness to an Albinean fruit that comes after its sweet pang. She didn't quite know where to place it, but she appreciated his line of thought whenever it was offered to her. "Circumstances change, but we are the overlap, are we not?"

There are enough wishes for everyone this year, streaks of stars blazing through the velvet expanses of the skies. He asked if she was to forfeit her wish, as though her precious action was a repeated measure, a similar verse. It's a curious turn of phrase, one of which nearly sounded like a challenge, if her ears did not mistake it. Her teeth are bared—a boyish grin in place of her usual gentle demeanor. "I am a young woman who finds great joy in giving. Be it last year or this year, only two factors remain the same. You and I." She unfastened a black feather from the blooming ribbon that kept her hair up.

"To you it may be forfeiting, or relinquishing a right to what is mine. But to me, it is a symbol of prosperity. A motion to start a relationship, and to preserve its fresh roots. This year and the last, I will gift you a wish--"

She exchanged his white feather for her black one, though not before clasping his hands very lightly between both her own. Much like holding a bird that has looked down the shaft of an arrow and survived.

"Knowing you would come to me again one day. Just like today."

Her demeanor softened like a brush of feathers running over a chalk drawing, as she let out a quiet laugh. Tilting her head to the side, as her bangs curtained over one ear, she grinned from ear to ear.

"I am very glad to see you, Sir Pelleas. My wish is yours. From this year onto the next."

[ashenprofessor]

Byleth sighed inwardly as they entered the arena and saw the final rounds enemy. Legends of yore once more though in shadowy form, all of who the Professor recognised. They moved swiftly too, taking out one of their own before their team even got a hit in. Byleth felt and ember of anger alight in their chest and they stepped up to the plate. The dancer withdrew their blade and set off across the sand feet moving to their own tempo. Channelling the rhythmic drum of their feet and the moves they’d recently learned, byleths blade flashed out to strike the dragon ish form of Corrin.

Roll d20 Result 15+4 =19 Critical Hit! Damage -7hp [Corrin 5/12hp]

Roll :d2 Result 1 Stunned

The force of the blow wasn’t massive but targeted at a place designed to knock the enemy to the ground. It played out as Byleth imagined, locking Corrin in place. Not pausing in their movements, continuing the dance, Byleth followed up with a second strike. Jabbing their sword into the gaps in Corrin’s scales.

Roll d20 Result 11+4=15 Critical Hit, Damage -7hp [Corrin 0.5/12hp]

Surprised that the shadow was holding on, Byleth retreated back to their remaining allies. “Suppose I shouldn’t have expect even an emblem dragon to be felled so easily. Still I reckon the next hit should suffice”

@pirrhyc

[atypicalsenerio]

Pair Up! (White Heron Cup)

Starter for @pirrhyc @sweetroyalberry @luxaltare

It likely meant nothing to the spectators. A surprise, perhaps, that Soren and Pelleas had entered together. They could be seen together as a mere pairing of convenience, bht Soren knew it was more than that. As he took Pelleas's hands, Soren allowed himself a brief moment to squeeze his hands, a secret just for them.

For Soren, it was a public declaration of them being something he didn't have a label for. Almost brother, once enemy, something akin to a friend.

It was enough for Pelleas to be Pelleas.

"Ready?" Whether he was or not, Soren started their dance. He kept himself focused, and frankly his outfit did him favors as far as grace and style went.

Style: 10

Choreography: 5

Technique: 6

Total: 21

They weren't perfect, but they meshed together well, their similairities which they might've once loathed enhancing their style, complimenting rather than insulting.

[nelithic]

He hadn't been convinced that he would be able to cross paths with her today. Their meeting had felt a bit otherworldly in nature to him at the time, owing a bit to his frayed nerves.

He is better today, but in seeing her, he feels like he has stepped into a dream-like state once more.

No matter, he imagines this opportunity will not come up again so easily, knowing so little of where she roams or dwells in these lands. When they had met, she hadn't worn the students' uniform, and he has had yet to encounter her again since. It is fear that drives him to haste, and he cuts off her path, standing before her now with a wrapped present in hand, grabbed from his collection of them that he's been handing out.

“ Hello there! Wow, I can't believe I actually ran into you today... I guess sometimes I'm luckier than I thought. Anyway, this is for you for the Winter Festival if you'll accept it, please. ”  He holds it out to her: a thin box that weighs little. Yet still, despite its unassuming size, he has wrapped it with care all the same... even if he wasn't sure if he'd meet her today at all. Inside of the gift box there lies a pair of leather gloves with fur on the ends where it'd meet the wearer's wrists— simple but stylish, durable and effective.  “ I don't know what kind of work you do, but if you had been handling those corpses that day, I can guess you're sent to do that kind of thing a lot. Or maybe it's your own desire. I don't know. But either way, I wanted to give you something that could help keep you warm in those times without getting in your way. ”

He's not sure if she actually needs these kinds of things. There's so little he knows about her still, he feels. If he tried to peek, would the fount of her life be infinite? Would her tale be as vast as the greatest abyss? The deepest darkness?

He imagines if he were to try, he would not come out unscathed, and yet...

“ I grew up somewhere cold, so I like to think I know a bit on this subject. Oh, but I suppose it might not be to your tastes... Sorry if that's the case. But I really do hope they're alright... ”

daylight's way of banishing shadows and sharpening fine edges does not suit either of them. at first, she does not recognize him, such that when he hurries toward her with hastened greeting as though afraid he may lose her entirely, she wonders him to be a rare resident of abyss aboveground who may know her face and position but whose acquaintance she has not yet made. under the afternoon sun, he appears younger, closer to his age and those of his student peers and the restless agitation he had displayed, which first returns to her upon remembrance amid a triptych of pained eyes, snow-flecked curls, and a deep scarlet sigil at the center of his forehead.

today there is little to none of that agitation. the lines of his face are smooth, if anxious, his voice and movements at equilibrium. without speaking, she looks down to the box he extends and accepts it with both hands, allowing him to go on talking while she carefully unravels it.

perhaps under other circumstances, she would have said her thanks and left the reveal of the contents for later in private. but this one comes unexpectedly enough that she feels it better to open it before him; in truth, she is somewhat perplexed, and had not thought their brief acquaintance warranted such a gesture.

a pair of leather gloves greets her, neatly packaged one atop the other, nested in white wrapping paper. she takes in the sight as he goes on, expectation rising into his voice — and it is this that prompts her eventually to lift her eyes from the unexpected gift to meet his again. "they look warm and durable, and are in fine condition," she gently interrupts his halting uncertainties. "the thought is appreciated. thank you."

though a common custom among the little ones, it still feels strange to be on the receiving end. from time to time, she had accepted gifts, and some tokens, and tributes even — but they had numbered few, and the vast majority of them from her twin; their gifts to one another had remained the largest portion of any such exchange in memory, recycled from hand to hand at intervals. by comparison, the box in hand now dangling at her side feels weighted, though not undesirable, with unfamiliarity.

she may not be as susceptible to cold as the little ones. but she will find some use for these regardless.

"i regret that i had not prepared anything for you in return. my apologies. if you need assistance in the future, i will gladly lend it."

[nabataprophet]

The two of them were similar but also so very different. That was the nature of meeting other shamans, he found. It was a difficult search to see those who had taken the same plunge as him somehow, but although he had expected them all to be quite like them, he kept getting proven wrong.

They were usually stronger, and the girl with the hair that dragged against the floor was no exception. 

“ A merry Winter Festival to you, ”  he greets her, box in hand. If he allowed himself to be pettier, he wouldn't have bothered. Against her ability to not show any emotion on her face, he can only imagine the might of her spells... how much more easily she could venture into the darkness than him and come out unscathed. But at the same time, he supposes there's a part of him that still holds that childlike innocence untainted by the horrors of adulthood. There's still a part of him that yearns for finding that connection and clings to it with what he can, no matter what other complicated feelings he has on the matter.

And the only way he knew how to cling was through material goods. For a man who sought the road to the arcane, he still found himself rooted in the present.  “ I got this for you. I don't know if you'll use it, but I still wanted to give it you if you'll take it. ”

Inside the wrapped box were hair ties and pins of various colors. Some held pearls. Other were merely beads.

“ As one dark mage to another, I couldn't imagine being able to get anywhere very fast if I had as much hair as you do. Dark magic already takes so long to cast... but you learned it for a reason, right? I'm not asking you to tell me if you don't want, as much as I'm curious, but if you're able to use it, you might as well use it to the best of your ability. No sense in having power that you can't use well. But I understand some people find that much hair very pretty, and it shows your diligence to grow it that long too, I'm sure so... I figured this was a way to keep that much hair without having to let it get in the way.

“ Of course, I've never had that much hair, so I don't really understand how to take care of it... and I don't even know if all I got you would be enough to handle it all, but I hope it's at least a little helpful to you maybe. ”

It's strange, having been outside for long enough to begin getting accustomed to celebrations that simply had not existed where she had come from. Until just recently, "winter" had been a nebulous concept that Sophia had only heard of from others who had been fortunate enough to experience it for themselves. Now, she can even count herself among those who had seen snow for themselves. This is her second Winter Festival now in this foreign land, so she knows more or less what to expect by now.

She does not expect Pelleas to come to her, but neither is she startled by his approach. At this point, it has become a given that they would find their way to each other at events like these eventually; not as friends, but as those with a common interest.

"Yes... Happy Winter Festival..." Sophia parrots back when Pelleas greets her, but her eyes widen when she is handed a present. "U-um, this is...?

She takes the gift in hand, unwrapping it slowly to reveal the hair accessories hidden within. She truly looks her age now, girlish excitement at being handed an accessory box lighting up her otherwise sullen face. She did not own many accessories herself, tying back her braids with whatever she happened to have on hand, but she had always been curious about the bits and bobbles that other girls wore in their hair.

His words are a little harsh, but she cannot say he's wrong either. While it had not been a problem back in Arcadia, there is no denying that the sheer amount of hair had hindered her movement on more than one occasion. Still, silly as it is, she is hesitant to part ways with it now that it's been with her for so long.

The hair ties are a lovely gift, though, so the least she can do is answer the question he is dying to know the answer to.

"...No, it's okay, I can tell you. It's not a secret... or anything, but um... it's not a very... exciting reason...? I didn't think... I would ever actually need to use it, because I had people... who were protecting me, but I..."

He seems to have convinced himself that she must have some grand reason for taking up dark magic, but now that she must explain herself, it's hard to find the right words under the weight of his expectations.

"...Wanted to... protect something," she finishes lamely.

...

....

......

Silence falls between them, as it is wont to do when Pelleas isn't the one talking.

Sophia bows her head slightly, "Thank you, I really... like this. Later... I can give you... a tome from my home. You said before... that you don't have Flux... where you're from. I'll give you my old copy."

[fangedjustice]

Fiddly Sticks

Wood? She abhors the idea of you brutishly cutting down the trees. You’ll have to make do with sticks and twigs. She also refuses to leave you be, for there are dangerous knights in the woods, those that align themselves with the aliens. Those with white and red armor, bearing the symbol of a dragon… Grants 2d2 Wood per post.

Unlike the almost lackadaisical energy of their first week here, everything had now happened all at once and far too fast. It was a chaotic crash of emotions and exhaustion that suddenly ran right into a wall. 

A dream within a dream; waking up but not. Their surroundings no longer the marketplace but a wood shrouded in shadows, lit by grace of the moon and the bobbing lights of fireflies. Outside of their group, there isn’t anyone else clearly within sight, but there is the sensation of...other. Other people or something else entirely, Lloyd wasn’t sure of yet, but seeing Edelgard held by some unseen being like a child to its mother’s chest, narrows it down some.

Saved from death, perhaps, but was this a benevolent act or not? The being seemed loathe to give her up. At the very least, she did not seem to be in immediate danger and this brief respite gave them all a chance to collect themselves -- both mentally and physically.

“No cutting of trees, not that I’ve anything particularly useful to do so with,” Lloyd remarks, careful to keep his tone neutral and unbothered as he could. No matter where they strayed, the god is ever present. “Might not be as easy to work with, but who knows what idle hands can produce in a place such as this. I hope you don’t object to so menial a task.”

He didn’t like this feeling of being completely surrounded by something else, especially one he could not make out with his own eyes. And on top of that, she worried about other dangers in the woods. Other people, other creatures. Even if picking up fallen branches did little good as far as resources went, it offered them a chance to scope out their surrounding area.

Wood Gathered: 3

@pirrhyc

[enarmor]

“ It's been a while, hasn't it? I'm sorry. I hope this isn't awkward or anything, but I was thinking of how you helped me all the way back then, and I really wanted to do something to make it up to you, ”  Pelleas explains to Sain after approaching him the day of the Winter Festival.  “ I hope you'll accept this then. I understand if you don't though. That's fine. ”

The gift the shaman presents the cavalier, once unwrapped, turns out to be a book of sorts with pockets dedicated to be filled with something— a something soon explained by its gifter.

“ Since you seemed as invested in flowers as I am, I thought you might like a do-it-yourself encyclopedia for them. The idea behind it is that all those slots are designed to let you preserve pressed flowers into them, and it's spelled to protect them and the book from most kinds of damage it might take so you can bring the tome with you anywhere. I thought it sounded a bit fun if you're the type to go a lot of places and can find rare flowers... and you can even write in the space next to them where you found it or any flower meanings and things like that. I almost nearly bought one for myself too, actually...

“ Oh, but I'm rambling right now, aren't I? Sorry. I know I do that a lot. I just can't help getting excited over a shared interest like this. Anyway, I'll leave you be for today, but I do wish you a happy Winter Festival in any case. ”

"Hm?"

Sain hears the ring of a familiar tolling-bell. Its hoarseness melds into the early morning light petering into the greenhouse, masking what uncertainty it carries with the prospect of a new day. When he turns around, Pelleas is almost shining. He retains that dream-like quality of their first meeting.

The Lance grins. He believes it amusing that the other would be so apologetic and apprehensive about giving a gift. Sain should be thanking him, not trying to shoo him away. And yet he seems to have prepared for the worst. This prompts him into nodding and earnestly listening to his explanation of the gift.

He accepts it into his hands, leafing through its pages whenever Pelleas' explanation gives him the cue.

And once finished, he claps it shut with one hand. The other moves to rustle his friend's hair.

"If I asked you to stop saying sorry, I think you'd only apologize for being a bother." He laughs a little, even if his words are weighted with genuine intent. "So thank you, Pelleas. The care you put into this is more meticulous than a master craftsman! If more people worried about as many details as you, I'd bet the roads we ride on would all be works of art."

He then turns away from the heir, eyes darting around the room. As he walks in a small line he brushes the petals of every plant he can. It's like he's perusing the wares of a general store. A short moment later, and he lands on a pair of pink, star-shaped flowers. "Mm, these'll do," he mutters to himself.

"Pelleas, get a good look at these. They're Pink Lucks--symbols of enthusiasm." After pressing one into the first slot of his scrapbook, he hands the other off to the Daein, as well as the remainder of his holiday bonus--kept in a small pouch.

"I want you to go back and buy a book for yourself. Press this Pink Luck into the same spot as mine, and we'll be lifelong partners! Maybe in a few years we can compare notes, maybe see whose flower dictionary is more romantic."

To perhaps appear more agreeable, he tilts his head to one side and allows his eyelids to flutter shut. With a wave, they see each other off.

"Happy Winter Festival, and don't forget the 'enthusiasm' I've given you!"

[exclted]

pushing daisies 

Herbs? Those are easy. The idea that you would want to go and pick flowers endears you to her, and her mind betrays this. She manifests a field of flowers for you, flush with the herbs you need. Grants 3d2 Herbs per post. || @pirrhyc

Disorienting -- that’s a word for it. This place, whatever it is, is the kind of surreal that sets her on edge. A dream, for what else could it be, but suddenly the wish to escape it feels overwhelming. 

But memories of Edelgard are yet forgotten, the wounds she had sustained herself even less so. They have been mended now for the most part, the bleeding stopped, but every time her eyes shut one of them is at her sword’s end again.

It’s best to keep busy, then, and the field of multicolored flowers that spreads out before her like a sea feels like the optimal place to do so. They need medicine, to have their health returned, before finding whatever inevitable fight will demand they remain here.

Lucina cards a hand over petals illuminated by artificial moonlight. Their smell is sweet, overwhelmingly so. “Is there a catch, you think?”

Eyes flit upwards from where her fingers cradle a cluster of white petals, landing on the boy she remembers to be Pelleas. “To this safety, I mean. Does it feel wrong to you too?”

[frauleindermorgen]

@pirrhyc sent:

“ Micaiah, ”‎‎‎ ‎ Pelleas calls out to her, a part of him always searching for her. The ball is hectic this year, so many people about, to the point he finds it a bit overwhelming. A part of him knows, however, that it is a good thing there are this many people. In it, it is a sign of widespread peace to see so many people able to attend Garreg Mach away from their homes. The arrival of so many from that one continent, Elyos, also hints to the spread of tranquility to even farther places. “ It's difficult to believe that once we thought the rest of the world had been flooded, isn't it? That we thought we were the only ones left… and yet, look at how many people are here! ” He sidles up close to her, reaching from behind his cape to hold her hand and find comfort in her touch. He is a bit embarrassingly begging in this way, isn't he? For as much as he dressed himself up this way, trying to look every bit the imposing man a King of Daein ought to be, he is still irrevocably weak for her. No, not weak. He is weak on his own, needing to come to her, but he is not weaker for having her. He never could be. (But… perhaps a bit too lonely. He hopes she doesn't mind.) “ I know we should go out and meet many others, rise up to our roles and all that, but… Do you terribly mind, Micaiah? ”‎ ‎ Dark blue eyes turn to her, pleading alongside his quiet whisper.‎ ‎ “ For just a little while… I'd like to be with you just like this… Er, not that I have any particular plans or anything, if you're wondering. I just… ”

He prevaricates, but eventually, he relents with a defeated sigh, cheeks tinged a slight pink color.‎ “ A part of me is always wishing to have you to myself… ”

There is always a moment in festivities when she is drawn to the scant bit of silence she can find; often, as she is now, out among the rose bushes, she finds it among plants and so too does Pelleas find her. His is a companionship she does not shy from, for the eddies of his emotions she finds herself moving through peacefully more and more - he is to her, even in the uncertain future (perhaps especially), a comfort.

“I was thinking just the same thing upon meeting Rafiel earlier,” Micaiah says, crossing over to meet him, “the country of Hatari seemed like a fairytale when he and Queen Nailah first described it to me but here at Garreg Mach we’ve seen so much, and met so many.”

There is a part of her that still fears the sea - and the stories of Ashera’s torrential flood, but she remembers her prayer and Yune’s strong wings and her sense of gravity returns in time.

“We thought there were just Beorc and Laguz, only recently granting rights to Branded - but you’re right, look how vast the people of the world really are. And again, at this ball we can stand tall with them and clasp hands.”

She squeezes Pelleas’ in her own when she says that, beaming up at him; how much more they know now, and how much they have changed. She had seen him in the Daien royal cape once before, and  back then she had made a promise to him too, but tonight it is for a far longer lasting promise, and one she feels confident they need no goddess’s blessing for.

“I’d like to be alone too,” Micaiah says, “with you.” She adds, cheeks bright under the moonlight. “There was a bud in the Greenhouse I wanted to show you. Hopefully we will not interrupt any lover’s trysts, but ah well, it is a lovely place after all - perhaps we only must wait our turn.”

She laughs, pulls him closer; wondering why he need wish for something he already has.

[justicefanged]

Bear Steak Sounds Just Right

Ironically, this month’s mishaps spurred a greater interest in the other countries and continents beyond Fódlan, with more and more students eagerly learning what they can about them. The Cooking Club, with their hands on an Ylissean cookbook, is putting out calls for some brave idiot to go and hunt a bear for a Ylissean-style roast. [Grants Axe +1]

Any chance Linus had to get outside of the school’s walls, he eagerly took it. Hunting had been both a hobby and a necessity back home for him, and while bear didn’t often come up, he still had a bit of experience. Usually better prepared than this, but hey, he was never one to turn down a li’l danger!

Of course, he wasn’t getting sent out alone, but...Linus wasn’t exactly sure the student that he was helping out was really cut out for this sort of thing. He looked too -- geez, what would he call it? Way too gentle and soft for hunting, especially an animal that wasn’t going to go down as easily as something else might. But who knew, maybe the kid had some hidden grit in him! 

Linus was still sort of betting that he’d wuss out or get sick when the time came to get into the mess of it all. He could at least hope the bear that lived here tasted better than the ones in Bern.

“You ever been huntin’ before? No offense, but you don’t really look the type,” Linus spoke up, keeping his eyes on the ground for any trails or traces of their target. Bears were big and they left easier to find markers than most animals, but that still didn’t mean they weren’t skittish or preferred to avoid people. “This is for some kinda...cookin’ thing or somethin’, right? You tryin’ to show off for someone special, huh?” he smirked, waggling his eyebrows a bit in a brief glance up from the trail they were walking. 

“Maybe if you’re real lucky, you’ll even get a kick ass scar outta this!”

@pirrhyc

[justices-blade]

“ Oh, so you're still carrying Caladbolg? I'm glad. ”  Those are the first words out of Pelleas's lips when he gets the chance to talk to Edward. He mentally curses himself, feeling so selfish in how he's approached this, so he shakes his head and starts over.  “ I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking like that. Not when I'm seeing you off. I should be seeing you off with encouraging, brave words. Sorry though, I'm not very good at those either as you can probably guess. ”

Ah... how awkward can he be? He doesn't know what to say, what to do... To be put in this position again of seeing him off to the battlefield and being left behind...

Has he really not improved at all since their time during Begnion's Occupation?

“ You're strong. I know. But I'd like to see you again for sure after all of this. It'd set Micaiah at ease but also... ”

There's no real way to say it other than to say it directly, right? Edward has been quite direct himself before from what he's observed. Surely, Pelleas could do it too.

“ ...It'd set my nerves at ease too, you see. So I'll be waiting. Please. ”

The wind stays winter-brisk, even as the weather starts to calm; The rest of the season would still be nothing to sneeze at, much less for the average monastery-dweller, but to Edward, this is as manageable as ever. There's still a frission of trepidation at the thought of the journey on boat, but it should be okay, right...?

He's caught in a rare moment of contemplation when Pelleas finds him, and it takes no more than the rhythm of familiar footsteps to draw his attention. As ever, grey eyes light up when spotting a friend. His hand strays to his scabbard, giving it a pat and Pelleas a bright grin at the mention of the sword.

"Hey, Pelleas. Of course!" He quips back in response to the first part, before cocking his head a little at the second, letting out a hum of consideration-confusion, waiting patiently for the other to find the right words, interest bright in grey eyes. "Oh, it's fine, really. The more you talk, the more you learn, right?"

And he wants Pelleas to keep talking! Even if it just starts in letters. He's already overjoyed the other sought him out in person, commented on something more than just business. Caladbolg's his pride and joy, as is fighting for Daein — Why'd he not be happy at their mention? So he beams even brighter when Pelleas does find the right words, and he stands a little straighter to be the recipient of them.

"Don't sweat it! Its too cold for sweat, haha." He allows himself the little joke with a snicker. "I'll make it back, for both of you, safe and sound. Promise!"

[boundlesshart]

tonight’s top story: everything is awful!

all things considered (iron round) @ulirblood @maligknightsthorns @pirrhyc

What’s here for them now? Monsters made from metal scraps flank a larger golem, knights besides a king, all of them clearly out to kill them like the enemies before and the ones that will come. Claude can barely begin to grasp how these monsters will come for them. Instead his thoughts cling to the things he can recognize. The people in his party, unchanged since the last battle... and the bow in Edain’s hand.

“Hey, Professor...” A Devil Bow? A fickle weapon, plenty capable of killing its own master if it sees fit. Claude can’t say he knows the professor too well, but she definitely never struck him as the type to go for such a dangerous bow. Frowning, he reaches out to grip Edain’s shoulder, exerting as much authority as a student from a different house can. “...I’m placing my faith in you. That you know what you’re doing with that bow.” 

Claude casts Light Rune on Edain!

“The bow’s not worth your life. Its power isn’t worth dying for. You get that, right?”