#astrasword

[swiftscion]

Though she would have loved nothing more than to treat her daughter to a full breakfast in bed as Larcei did for her, the fact is that she must refrain from doing so when the girl’s bedroom is shared with her brother. If only Scáthach did not loathe her she would regale them both, but there is no use in lamenting. Instead she frees up the whole day to spend with Larcei — as she, regrettably, did not think to do on the occasion of her own birthday. Now is her chance to make up for that, and for so much more.

She finds her daughter early in the morning and waves as she walks up to her, a small box in the other hand. Larcei would likely not care for wrapping and so she hasn’t bothered with it, but the box itself is a luxury item: Crafted out of fine wood and covered in purple velvet with gold trimming, when opened its lid reveals not one but two pairs of bracelets. The four are also made of gold and meant to be worn crossed over, to match Ayra’s own. Alongside these, the box contains a pair of diamond earrings as well as a wooden horse, perfectly crafted.

“Happy birthday, my darling,” Ayra says by way of greeting, embracing the shorter woman with one arm and kissing her on both cheeks before presenting her with the still-closed jewelry box. “I know you do not care much for your title, but… Well, I regret that you could not be brought up with the comforts that it entails, and I thought…” She’s floundering, and she hates that she is. She thought, of course, that she might give the girl a gift to make up for it. It didn’t occur to her until now that Larcei might not like that. “You had the best upbringing possible under the circumstances, of course,” she adds quietly. “I only…” Trailing off, she reaches to cup Larcei’s cheek. 

In the silence, she elects not to explain the wooden horse at all: She carved it herself to give to a daughter far too old for such toys, simply because she missed the chance to do so before. Gods know Larcei does not think she needs to make up for anything, though. So she leaves it unsaid, instead only smiling and running her thumb over the girl’s skin. What a blessing it is, to be able to touch her at all. Even now, Ayra could weep for joy. But the child still does not know, and so she keeps her death to herself, too. This is a day for lighthearted pleasures.

“While I tried to give you my bracelet in the real world, it went… Rather poorly,” she laughs but provides no further explanation, deciding to spare Scáthach the embarrassment in case he hasn’t told his sister. “So I thought I might as well keep my pairs and give you ones to match instead. Of course, they can be worn as anklets too. I understand if you would rather not look any more like me than you already do.” With another laugh and a wink, she reaches to place an arm around her daughter’s shoulders.

“Now, dear, my whole day is all yours. We can do whatever you like, really. I thought perhaps we might have some tea… I still have a few of the blends I brought here from Isaach. Oh, but of course the call is yours.” She smiles fondly, recalling Larcei’s words two moons earlier. (Not that she could ever forget them.) “I’ll do everything you could wish for your mother to do, hmm?”

//via totally-on-time birthday asks; definitely not accepting !

Larcei would have looked prettier if she had died in her sleep.

Instead, her mother breaks her down into a crying mess. It starts gently, with a wave and a quick “G’morning!” exchanged for her greeting, but time can only delay the inevitable melting of her heart when she sees the gift box. It isn’t that she had forgotten, or thought her mother negligent enough to do so, but nineteen is a big number. Nineteen missed birthdays, nineteen of each holiday spent with Scathach, nineteen years of progress–of first steps and first words, first letter penned and first soldier struck down by the song of her sword. All evaded Ayra’s eye. And the worst part? In the end, she was fine. Larcei survived and fought back, Larcei became the maverick of Astra that she is now and, had Ayra forgotten, would have still drawn breath tomorrow.

She hates that things would have only hurt the same if her mother disappeared again. 

And so, her cheeks swell. Waterskins far too full of midnight’s stream, they bloat with unshed tears. There have been so many days of longing that she had let herself forget what life was like without it, and nothing is a harder testament to this fact than what she sees in front of her. Weak, yet-to-be-gloved hands stretch to take it, and as they make contact, a silent prayer is said that Scathach isn’t watching. 

She tries to hold herself back–she really does–but with her face pressed against the neck of her mom, and the warmth of the brighter star encompassing her, body and heart, the reservoir beneath her eyes opens up. She dampens Ayra’s clothing with her tears, taking time to listen to the broken-up, discordant sound of her voice trying to find the right words for the occasion. She hugs tighter. It could come out of her mouth like hogwash, and Larcei would still cherish it. Nothing else sounds more like home, after all, and she can tell that there is an otherworldly level of care being put into today. That there is the insurmountable burden of being abandoned Larcei’s long-lost mother is not something Ayra can be blamed for, so her daughter doesn’t. 

One by one, she addresses the many topics brought up by Isaach’s finest, but only after running her face dry, and choking down sniffles between each sentence, “... I get it, okay? You… You just want everything to be perfect for me. ‘Cause I’m your daughter, and you’re my mother, and nothin’ out there’s gonna change that.” Wrenching herself out of the woman’s grasp, she creates enough space between them to open the box. Through glassy eyes does she marvel at Ayra’s creation, holding each gift between her fingers like masterpieces. “But this is enough. We’re a family again, and that’s all I’m ever gonna need.” 

Lucky for the both of them, the Comet is still in her nightwear. She hasn’t put on her own, characteristic set of earrings, and so slips the gifts on in their place. And they shine there, dangling from her ears. They’re a little heavier than what she’s used to, and the shape might smack her against the cheek if she darts around too quickly, but with what Ayra said about her title, Larcei knows what she’ll use them for. “And hey, we’re going to have to go back home someday. I can’t escape bein’ a princess for long, especially now that I don’t have a reason to with you here.” 

The bracelets then take the place of her gloves, and she seats ear earrings with her palms to show the entire ensemble off. A shuddered laugh asks what she thinks before she addresses her inherited visage. “What’s the matter? Scared your daughter might start lookin’ better than you if she dresses nice?” The obvious tease is punctuated by a jab against the swordswoman’s side. The comment about the ‘real world’ escapes her, as does the meaning of the horse, but she does ambiently wonder if it had to do with any of the dreamscapes they had been fighting in.

“Tea’s good, and I’d like a battle where we don’t hold back so I’ll know what I’m up against,” she answers, in response to the final question, “but… There’s one other thing…” 

Larcei is a child again. She has just woken up in Tirnanog, to the smell of potatoes on the stove and the sound of wood meeting wood outside. Someone’s sparring, and she needs to spring up to join them. Maybe today will be the day–maybe red oak upgrades to gray steel as she is finally allowed a proper battle. And when she’s done, she’s sure breakfast will be finished. She kicks herself out of her cot, the pitter-patter of her feet sure to raise hell with all the adults who want to keep them hidden, and just as she’s about to reach the door, she’s stopped. 

“When I was little, Lady Edain used to do this thing for me every morning.” Her voice strains timidly, the decorated Larcei now holding her years-old hairbrush in her hand like a piece of incriminating evidence. Seating herself at her desk, her eyes glance at Ayra. “She’d sit me down and brush my hair, tellin’ me that I’d need to take care of it if I wanted to look like your daughter.” And now that she’s thrusting the brush toward her mother, she cannot bear to look her way. Blood paints her cheeks a rosy pink. “Except… Kid me would wish it could be you there, instead. I think, um…”

“... I think I want to make her wish come true.”

[yukyunotabibito]

📋 this is so funny please get her

Name: Ayra Issach.

Age: 23.

Gender: Female.

Class: Blue Lions. (Professor)

Notes:

A swordswoman, and a talented one at that to my observations. There seems to be a consistent scowl across her face when I have observed her. Perhaps she has noticed I am watching? She does not seem like a cruel woman though, even despite her expression. If she were to meet Kurthnaga, I would hope that she would treat him kindly at the very least.

[ulircursed]

♡ mananan would've made a better match for ayra i think (sorry andrei) but he didn't arrange a marriage at all so let's just roll with it

from here! holy shit who is this guy changing the hair color changed everything

(the twins are here too! yeah, they get three children bc i do not like to shadow realm one of a pair of twins. they look the same as they do in canon bless u ayra and ur black hair)

but oh god ok in this au, ring reacted faster than all the conspirators and actually advised kurth to bring an entourage to meet mananan at the edge of the ribaut clan before reptor could assassinate the isacchian king. they get their peace treaty and the war ends! in exchange, mananan agrees (is forced to agree) to send ayra to grannvale to marry. because... something something od holy blood. maybe they take shannan too. anyway they are basically political prisoners grannvale is just too polite to say so.

and so she is wed to andrei, as the son of duke ring. at this point in my hc he has been officially declared heir i think. andrei makes no attempt to treat ayra as anything but a political prisoner, knowing that the chances of him having a major blooded child with a minor blood from a whole 'nother crusader are slim to none. at the same time, with ring right there and no conspiracy on the horizon (yet), it's not like andrei will do anything too crazy of his own accord (i've said this before, but while his relationship with ring wasn't good, it also wasn't bad enough that he would've at all wanted to kill his father without an outside reason). so they have a child.

meet black haired 'scipio'

the kid is born with only minor od blood. this is not great for andrei's mental health, and andrei makes his disappointment known to the kid from the moment he is consciously aware of his surroundings. at the same time, political prisoner ayra wasn't exactly encouraged to form a bond with her child so he also doesn't have a mother's support throughout all this

he ends up inheriting his father's self-worth issues wholesale, but worse bc at least father had minor ullr blood??? he has Nothing except the Political Prisoner's Bad Blood. hates himself deeply but tries to keep up a haughty appearance to cover that up. inferiority-superiority complex to the extreme

he will become a master knight in this iteration. gotta prove himself and his nonexistent self-worth u know

a few years later, the twins are also born! they have minor ullr blood and andrei ends up deciding that's worse, the idea that ullr's legacy is being mixed with another crusader's blood. when i say he doesn't have a healthy attitude re: ullr this is what i mean. he ends up liking the twins even less than 'scipio', and edain is aware of this.

ANYWAY back to the lore. a large part of the tellius gen i asks is just figuring out how we even get here ahaha. eventually, the conspirators find a chance during a big event that andrei is expected to bring ayra, and assassinate kurth during that time, blaming the whole thing on ayra but also insinuating that chalphy and yngvi were in on it. they publicly execute ayra and order that mananan and mariccle answer for their family member's crimes or they'll like. kill shannan too.

at this point byron and ring figure out what's going on, and they rescue shannan and get sigurd to smuggle him out of the country using the excuse of political visits to the surrounding nations. the yied desert is no longer a viable route at this point bc reptor and lombard would have troops there to intercept them, so sigurd plans to get to isaach via going through verdane and agustria then getting a ship north to silesse and then to isaach. he leaves with some of his friends, edain included, and edain brings her niece and nephew the twins, thinking that this might make their cover story of innocent visits more convincing if they brought children along (shannan is also along but he's the whole point of the excursion so he has to hide at all times). andrei then kills ring, takes the duchy and throws in his lot with the conspiracy 'for yngvi's sake'. byron also is killed.

everything that happens in canon with sigurd's party happens at this point, even though it's a little bit late. manfroy pulls strings behind the scenes to convince both verdane and agustria that sigurd is here to conquer them instead of basically just. smuggling a small child. and so they run into Problems along the way. he meets deirdre, they have seliph, manfroy comes in with a steel chair, etc etc. anyway the gang is in silesse when they receive news that mananan and mariccle are both dead, isaach has officially fallen, and grannvale knows what sigurd and co are up to and they'd best come back before they're all labeled as traitors. chapter 5 happens and the people/kids who do escape originally still escape.

ok the story took a huge extra few years to get back on track but ultimately everything stays the same, except scipio now has black hair, od blood and hates himself more. sorry.

[hresvelged]

@astrasword sent: The swordswoman is cautious when she approaches Edelgard, unsure of how one with her strength of will might react to a perceived enemy. Ayra cannot help but think that perhaps she ought to be avoiding her allies instead — but her concern for a student is greater than her misgivings. Besides, she has never been a coward. Yet despite these thoughts she remains perfectly composed, carrying herself with absolute confidence. She mustn't show weakness to a student, and certainly not to a foe. Gods willing the imperial princess will mind her injuries and stay her hand, but regardless, the fact is that Ayra must always uphold the pride of a warrior. "I am glad to see you alive, Edelgard," she says in lieu of a greeting, with complete sincerity, "even if injured. How are you holding up?"

Edelgard is constantly surrounded by an enemy, whether it be here or at Garreg Mach. There are very few in this world she trusts, finding herself speaking to those affiliated with the church on a near daily basis. That is simply the way things must be for now. She reminds herself of her goals every waking moment. There is no grander time for that than now.

When she is approached, those very same thoughts resurface in her mind. Despite the axe twists and injured soul, her mind must remain strong. This is a mission. She needs no assurance of such nor will she allow herself to be fooled so easily.

"I'm fine," she says despite needing time. Truth be told, she'd rather be anywhere else but the infirmary. It defeats the point of her venture. She knows not to push her boundaries, even so; The quicker she heals, the sooner she can solve this mystery for herself. She manages to inch herself upright, locking her eyes forward. "These injuries will heal." She has endured worse in her life, but cares not to share that with anyone— Especially not a forced visage liken to those who rule Fódlan atop their pedestals.

She notes the way the other holds herself, tall and prepared. When she locks eyes, she does her utmost to match. The headache pounds. "I presume this reflects poorly on the church."

[ladyleonster]

"Ethlyn!" Ayra greets her friend with a smile. They had a grand time drinking together on her own birthday, and Ayra considered simply inviting her out again. But then, Eth might prefer to spend the day with family, so the swordswoman has brought the drinks to her instead. She holds out a wrapped bottle, hugging the shorter woman with her other arm. "Here. It's Isaachian liquor. I only went to Isaach or I would've brought you a drink from Chalphy or Leonster, but I hope you enjoy all the same."

"Ayra!" Ethlyn wraps her own arm around her friend with a laugh and a grin. She leans her head against Ayra's shoulder and happily takes the offered bottle, holding it up as though she might give a cheers with Ayra if she had a drink of her own.

It's a sweet thought that the other woman would think of Ethlyn's two homes but it's even sweeter that she gave her something of her own. She knows Ayra is just as passionate about her roots as she is hers.

"I'll love it, I'm sure. Thank you! And please, won't you share it with me sometime? I'd love your company and I bet you know the best ways to drink it!"

[nagaficat]

"Deirdre," Ayra approaches her friend with a smile, a wooden horse in one hand and a bouquet of wildflowers in the other. She herself has not yet given birth, but she finds joy in her friend's joy; she hopes that Deirdre will not mind that one of the gifts for her special day is meant for her infant son instead. "Since most of my skills involve blades," she winks, "I thought to carve a toy for your Seliph. As for the flowers... Well, I don't know the first thing about them, but I hope the ones I plucked are alright anyway. They could be weeds for all I know," she laughs before embracing Deirdre. "I had to get you something on this joyous day, though. Happy birthday, sister."

Ayra manages to find Deirdre in a moment of peace. An infant Seliph sleeps soundly in a bassinet by her bed and his tired mother is finally able to stretch out and relax with a book. It is difficult work taking care of someone so small and perhaps she does not help herself by refusing to allow him from her sight. There are many people who have offered to help her so she can take care of herself but she simply misses him too much. That and a dark cloud of worry threatens to overtake her that she might, one day lose him.

Do all new mothers feel such things?

Her face brightens when Ayra enters her room and grows brighter still to know her friend is not only thinking about her birthday but her darling son as well. She takes the horse first, running her hands over its smooth and polished surface. The craftsmanship is fantastic and she knows that love has gone into each stroke of Ayra's knife against the wood. "This is lovely. Have you shown Lord Sigurd yet? A little horse for little Seliph. Just like his father's!"

The flowers bloom in all sorts of shapes and colors and Deirdre knows they will brighten up the drab castle room. Even if Ayra claims she does not know about their meaning, Deirdre can appreciate that her friend would arrive to do something she knows she loves. "There is beauty in weeds, I think. They are strong and resilient, bringing their brightness to even the darkest and most drab places. I have always found them to be just as precious as any other flower. Thank you...sister."

[nagargent]

a question of perspective

Julia loiters outside Ayra's office for a while, unsure if she's really willing to take this step. The offer of company and understanding was almost impossible to resist. Yet her stomach feels heavy with the guilt of her shame. What kind of daughter was she, to harbour such doubts about her beloved mother? Things had built to a head where she'd felt the need to voice her frustrations, if only anonymously and without consequence for either of them. Nausea had gripped her stomach ever since, terrified someone would find out. Yet here she is, about to confess her sins to her mother's former friend.

Ayra's reply is clutched tightly in her hand. It seemingly takes all her strength to lift it up and knock at the door. She could run before the Princess of Isaach had the chance to welcome her in. Yet her feet don't move, glued do the ground as if she's been shackled to the spot.

She needs to do this - needs to speak to someone who won't immediately malign her. Someone she can trust to at least hear her out.

"H-Hello, Lady Ayra," Julia immediately bows her head, allowing her hair to fall forward like a silver shield. Her voice feels so small in her mouth as she tries to speak. She adores her mother, she shouldn't feel this way, she shouldn't be here but she simply cannot understand Deirdre's behaviour as of late. It was hardly a secret that her father and brother had done terrible things, things she loved them in spite of. Yet everyone she'd ever spoken to had praised her mother, lauded her as a saint, an angel walking the earth. How could she reconcile the mother she's believed in all these years with the woman making such cruel requests of her friends. "I hope I haven't come at an inconvenient time. I just... you mentioned your office was open."

Her palm opens, revealing the note. Julia swallows the lump in her throat. She loves her mother, she must be a wonderful person, yet...

"I came because I think we might both be speaking of the same person. It... it feels like I'm betraying her," Julia's voice shakes as she blinks back tears. She won't cry, she won't. "I just can't comprehend how she can be so selfish. I wish I could understand her... I wish I felt like anything I might say would matter."

"I'm sorry." Lifting her sleeves she dabs at her eyes and cheeks. So much for not crying. She feels like a foolish, insignificant child being so easily moved to tears. "I know-- I know she's probably not a topic you wish to discuss. I'm sorry for bothering you--"

[serraic]

@astrasword

It’s been a few days since she’s seen Erk. Only a few, and that shouldn’t be so unusual — but maybe... maybe Serra is feeling a little bit more, ah... clingy than usual, after their declaration of love. Really, who says they love someone and then disappears for days?

So she’s miffed! (And worried. And terrified.) And miffed, that’s what we’re going with outwardly, frown-y and angry and huff-y.

She goes to the first floor of the dormitory and starts asking around for which room is Erk’s. It isn’t long before she’s pointed towards the right place (though, by an individual that seems to almost regret having told her the moment they have).

Pale knuckles rap on the door insistently.

“Erk! Hello, are you home? Eeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrkkkkk!”

[lordleonster]

" oi, quan! " she all but hollers at him in the distance, greeting him with an enthusiastic pat on the back once she's closer. " a love for competition runs in the family, does it? not only are you and ethlyn in this, but both your children too. you must be proud. " her fiery joy subsides into a warmth far gentler. " i noticed you're up against altena. that must be difficult as a father, especially since you didn't get to raise her either, right? if there's a way i can help, just let me know. "

"Ayra!" There's a shift. His brows releases from their taut line the moment his name crosses her lips. Her presence is an answer— a mist cleared over a very long winter. Relief is a feeling he’d love to keep reliving.  "I see you are well." Had any of their other comrades survived the war? Or was she the last mercy who had not followed him into the dark?

When King Mananan had been framed for a continued invasion over the Grannvale border, the young woman had been forced into a corner. But he had sought her out to understand, not to judge—to allow the light to shine over her situation. In that moment, he vowed to do what he could for her. And even now, though the circumstances had changed, he still felt the oath lodged in his chest. Like a phantom lung— to give her room to breathe as he breathed.

“Indeed. I suppose it’s quite the spectacle, to have the family each have a hand in this event. Though…”

Ayra’s intuition was spot on. In some ways, he didn’t wish to elaborate on how uncomfortable it was to be reintroduced to one’s family, only to fight them soon after. But he was certainly never one to deny a duel. Not when his daughter insisted upon it. He shakes his head, knowing fairly well that her courtesy was appreciated, but not warranted for a private affair.

Instead, he smiles. It’s a smile that makes sense of the world. And a smile that makes sense of the end of the world as they know it.

In many ways, their world no longer existed.

“Your presence is enough, Ayra. Just promise me a duel after I get this straightened out.”  

But they still had each other.

[sorcerese]

   ੈ‧₊ 。━━━━━ ✧⁺∗ ❛⠀ 、 ennui !

              it's all so mundane... when did she get tired of it  ?      when did she actually complain about quiet sunny days. she can't remember, but she knows the reason— it's not a good reason but one that was good enough to be one. she flops on the ground and closes her eyes against the spotty shade of the old oak tree, placing her arm over her face. she's still but only for a moment as her lips curl into each other and begins pouting.  the girl kicks her feet in the air like a silent tantrum, one arm reaches out as if to catch the light, then it flops back to her side. obviously failing; she throws her head back and letting out a frustrated groan into the gentle wind.   “   argh....... i'm boooooooooooooreddddddddddddd !!   ”   complaints finally vocalized, making her tantrum very audible. eyes shut once more both of palms slamming against her eyes and dragging them down to her cheeks. she never thought she's say it but weekends were so boring here, it's not like she can go visit home for a day or two. delthea rocks back and forth on the ground using her shoulders as it's balance. 

  “   this sucks !  i'm waaay too bored. there's no one to prank, no one to annoy without potentially getting my head chopped off or worse! like being chewed out by the knights or professors.... again...  ”   she sighs rather dramatically. the mage pauses and thinks about the worst that could happen. she gets mild chills upon thought then came to a conclusion. if it does hit rock-bottom, it wouldn't be awful if her head gets lobbed off. at best, she doesn't have to get lectured for 4 hours in a detention hall... or maybe, she should cut back on the troublemaking... but then that wouldn't fun now would it? mhm, yeah, no way.

ੈ‧₊ 。━━━━━ ✧⁺∗ ❛⠀ 、 starter for @astrasword !

[luminousrider]

" hello, altena. " ayra is cautiously friendly. unlike with most of her friends' children, she knows what happened to altena's parents. she knows the sort of resentment that a parent's death can invite, as well. for a moment she thinks of scáthach's eyes, and she almost regrets approaching the girl — or rather, the woman. " i'm ayra isaach. i knew you as a baby, and ... i thought to wish you luck. i see you've grown into a fine warrior, but you never know out there. may njörun guide your hand. "

Altena freezes. It is not the first time she has met someone as an adult who knew her as a child. Who had been friends with her parents. Who is friends with their parents. They are all here now, aren't they?

She doesn't need an introduction to know this woman is from Isaach. She's been dragged into enough things by Larcei to see the strong resemblance immediately. Her mother?

"My own will will guide my hand," she replies curtly. Ayra's sentimentality is not shared. She wonders if Njörun would even choose her to support or would her blessing go to her other scion. "I don't intend to lose."

[dollandour]

" hey. " the tournament has just ended, and ayra catches up with the champion of team od as she's leaving, her tone cool. " i'm ayra isaach, a sword instructor... and a descendant of the crusader od, as it happens. " she flashes the mage a quick grin. " congratulations on your victory. that was a good fight. "

The "champion" (one of several, technically) steps out of the dining hall, filled and refreshed with warm tea. Any other day she would have veered toward sugarless cocoa, but she did promise a round of tea with the others from her battle, both friend and foe. The drink definitely could have been worse, and she didn't realize how dreadful tossing wind waves in chilly winters was for her temperature before stepping back inside. Hopefully none of the other competitors noticed any feeble shivers as she made her exit.

Before she can make it back to her reserved corner of the grounds, another woman arrives to provide her own congrats. Though her reasoning is immediately made apparent upon the reveal of her own heritage. A descendent, eh? Sonya wonders if she was watching her bout the entire time - or at least as best as one could in the middle of harsh flurries. Even if not, her compliment sounds genuine, even through her more stern voice.

"It wasn't my cleanest, but my storm got us by," she lightly smiles, making sure to not belittle all of the praise. "Helps to have a partner who can take blows too."

Sonya didn't join this tournament to uphold a crusader she never heard of before, though the organizer boy's descriptions of Od's swordsmanship made for an interesting tale. If his claims are true, than this woman in front of her is capable of slashing at the speed of comets. Was she going to teach others a similar technique as an instructor? Somehow, the mage doubts it.

"You can call me Sonya. I know my way around black magic rather well. Oh, and I can swing a sword around too. Not as well as your ancestor, surely," she cannot deny her interest in Ayra nonetheless. Overwhelming speed was something that has helped Sonya out of scuffles before, and there was never anything wrong with picking up some more pointers, no?

[livingrief]

When Ayra first lays eyes on the blue-haired man closest to her on the dance floor, she does not recognize him immediately. She's aware of Finn's arrival at Garreg Mach, but the years that never touched her have taken their toll on him. All the same, she needs only a moment before her face shifts and she approaches him with a smile.

"Finn!" She says, clapping him on the shoulder. "It is good to see you again. How have you —" Ayra breaks off, for the music begins anew. That, and surely there are better questions to ask given the Aed Massacre and the fall of Leonster. She knows from experience that his life cannot have been easy. It will not do to mar his evening by inquiring, nor her own by thinking of the fall of Isaach like this. Her smile falters only for a brief instant before she recovers.

"I suppose we can talk as we dance. Have you been enjoying the evening?"

The dancing begins with the most elegant of tenors, but for all the beauty and splendor that the party exudes, Finn knows he is out of place. He does not belong here. Coming here was a mere formality after all - Lady Ethlyn requesting his presence herself. He dare not defy her dear wish.

But it was stifling, if he were to think on it too much. Uncomfortable, at the very least. Preaned and clean to the finest, sitting here with all that was important to him and a room full of Fodlan's finest. His skin itched in a way that could not be cured. His throat threatened to constrict. Now that he thought on, he was dreadfully thirsty.

Yes, he was versed in a little dance. But Finn wished for no part in it. He was of little mood to celebrate in the first place. And such an act was so intimate....

But to the dance floor he was pushed somehow. The music begins anew and people circle one another, touching, tasting, getting to know the finery. Finn is repulsed. He has known enough humanity for his lifetime. He yearns for nothing, for weightlessness and an absence of thought.

Somehow, someone calls his name amidst the cacophony of talk and dance. He glances up to see the swath of obsidian hair and eyes, stars for days. Lady Ayra. But nothing quite comes from his lips. She is so young and he has lived lifetimes past her. What is there to say?

But ever so elegantly, her smile shifts, like the swift cut of a swordblade. Finn's mouth stays firm. He will not allow himself to be vulnerable - even with a former comrade.

"Fine, of course. It is a pleasant banquet." Nothing to note. The music takes them for a few steps. "How are you, Lady Ayra? I hear Larcei and Scathach are at this academy. You must be overjoyed." Overjoyed. Yes, that was the word. He should be too. After all, all those dearest to him were here.

But he was not.

The dance ends in a lull and Finn offers a bow. "Allow me to part for the evening. It was a pleasant surprise to see you, Lady Ayra."

Eyes remain cold and distant, the storm rages inside his indigo vision an agony unto their own. 

[duskofendflame]

When the music stops once more, Ayra finds that the man closest to her is her fellow sword instructor, whom she has only met in passing since her arrival all those moons ago. Now is as good a time as any to rectify that.

"Good evening, Corrin," she greets as she approaches him, not yet extending her hand. A smile plays on her lips, small as it is. "Might I have this dance?"

Corrin laughs softly at the approach of his fellow professor, her steely grey eyes level with his own as they meet. Regretfully, he has not had much of a chance to speak to her, outside of nods in passing, but he had peeked in on a class of hers once or twice, and found himself quite impressed with her skill. He would certainly like to observe her swordplay more closely in the future, were he ever to find the free time to sit properly in on her class and observe her in action.

"Gladly. It would be my honor."

[ladyleonster]

" ethlyn! " she's smiling before wrapping her friend up in a tight hug and giving her a pat on the back. when she draws back, her smile is more mischievous. " i'll be on the sidelines this time, but i'll be watching eagerly. you won't hold it against me if i cheer for team od, will you? he's my crusader, and mercedes is my student, so... " ayra trails off, laughing. " i'm kidding. i've been wishing all my students good luck, and our children as well. get out there and kick some ass, ethlyn! "

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't!" Ethlyn grins as she returns her friend's hug. "I might be representing Crusader Nál in this event but my heart's routing for team Baldr!"

She's glad to see Ayra becoming so invested in her students here at the academy. It is a shame her own children are both members of a different house but she hopes they still might have the chance to learn from Ayra. Hell, she might even try to sit in on some of her classes as well.

"Oh you know I won't give this anything less than my best!" She's always been competitive. "Did you see Quan and Altena are competing as well? They've been matched against each other. I'm not sure who I'm supposed to be routing for. And it's my Leif who put this whole thing together! I've got a lot to be proud of right now."

[bxldrsdraumar]

👹 hehe

"Oh, blast! Where did I put - ?" Sigurd hadn't expected quite the turnout he had received, but he had surely placed another bowl of candy somewhere nearby. He set down the empty bowl, and turned to make his way back into his quarters to find it, his head poking in before his shoulders pressed the door open further -

splash!

The shiver from the icewater traveled down his back as the bucket dropped to the floor, and he heard the barest snickers from merely a few doors down.

A bright laugh, and Sigurd loped off to catch his speedster friend. "Wait until I catch you - I won't forgive you! Come back here!"