#battles without rewards aren't my thing ✩ ic.

[corvuschriisti]

The villagers do not dare disturb the raven's wake, but Ephidel cares not for such selfish mourning. "A pyre is all too fitting. You'd burn the world sooner than let it have him."

Naesala has not looked away once from Reyson's body since he lit it on fire. The gold hair curls and singes, bubbling his skin and eating away at what parts of his body remains.

Reyson was a holy thing, once. Coveted and loved and torn apart for it -- whatever pieces others wish to carve from his flesh will be taken with little resistance. Tibarn would have kept him safe. Naesala could not.

He vows to find the wings. Add them to the fire, if he can.

"Beorc will do such violent things to herons who cannot retaliate," he says, and his voice is cold. "They cannot have him. They don't deserve him."

[midoropalace]

Yakuza: Like a Dragon -6-

The one in which Ichiban goes on a Dragon Quest.

So... things aren't looking too good for Ichiban. The Tokyo Omi Alliance is on his ass, Kume is out in the wild, his long-lost father is dead, and Sawashiro threw himself into the fire like a true baddie. While Ichiban works through a pack of Newports, Nanba reminds him that they need to find Kume -- ASAP.

Their search is cut short by the Omi Alliance, who are out for blood and quickly swarm Survive. I use this opportunity to try out Night Queen Saeko's new ability, "Vital Vibration".

O-Oh.

...Anyway... On the way to Bleach Japan's office, I clean up some Part-Time Hero requests as usual. Nothing special.

I also encounter some Table Talks at a few restaurants. The one with my husband gets me to the halfway point for the "Drink Link-related "Food for Thought" trophy.

At the Bleach Japan office, Kume is nowhere to be found. Instead, we once again get swarmed by the Omi Alliance. We make quick work of them, but Ichiban's bloodlust isn't satiated -- he starts wailing on one guy, demanding to know where Kume is. The mafioso reveals Kume escaped to Kamurocho, and Ichi continues to pound on the guy -- much to his party's dismay. He is then stopped by...

It's ok, Kiryu, I'm open to being poly with you and Zhao...

Kiryu tells Ichi that he has information relating to Ryo Aoki, but expresses disgust over Ichiban's lack of control and decides to test him. He tells Ichi to meet him at the Geomijul headquarters later that night.

Speaking of Aoki, we get a scene where he and Horinouchi have a tense confrontation over Aoki's assassination plots, which he denies taking part in. Sure.

Anyway, we head to the Geomijul, where Kiryu awaits. I'm warned that there will be a tough fight ahead of me, so I take the opportunity to do a bit of grinding at Sotenbori. I get Ichiban to level 50 and get a trophy as a reward.

With that, I return to the Geomijul to confront Kiryu. He tells Ichi that if he wants to learn about Ryo Aoki's next move, he has to fight him in combat. Ichi simply has no choice but to accept, though he is bitter toward Kiryu from concealing such critical information from him. I blink, and both Kiryu's and Ichiban's suit and shirt have miraculously been peeled off in true Yakuza fashion.

Kiryu shows off his badass dragon tattoo, while Ichiban shows off his slightly less badass Gyarados tattoo.

This screenshot alone should easily set the stage for what's to come. Kiryu is no pushover in this battle; he hits like a truck and is quite fast. His main gimmick is that he switches into different fighting styles throughout the battle. He begins in the Brawler style, before moving into the Rush style, then the Beast style, and finally the Dragon of Dojima style. Entering the Rush style grants Kiryu a permanent speed boost. This leads to him getting more turns in than usual, and I find my more frail characters (Joon-gi and Nanba) have a lot of trouble staying alive here.

Thankfully, Kiryu is weak to ice attacks. After several Platter Shatters and Ice Spreaders, he goes down without too much difficulty.

Of course, because Kiryu is... well, Kiryu, he's not going to let an amateur like Ichi get the best of him. In fact, it seems like despite winning the battle, Ichi winds up losing. Cool. Ichiban then imagines that he is a hero fighting a massive dragon -- a dragon that either killed or maimed his friends. Ichiban stabs the dragon with his sword, ending his reign of terror and likely gaining tons of exp in the process

Of course, this is all just a dream -- Ichiban awakes, and Kiryu asks if he's calm. Ichi confirms that he is. Turns out, this whole incident was Kiryu's way of teaching Ichiban a valuable lesson about controlling his anger and trusting his comrades or... something. The party head deeper into the Geomijul, where Seong-hui reveals that the surveillance system is back up and running. Unfortunately, it seems there's a new threat looming on the horizon.

As it turns out, Ryo Aoki deems Sawashiro's imprisonment a threat and has hired an assassin -- Mirror Face -- to silence him. Mirror Face is a master of disguise and an experienced killer. His amazing ability to don new appearances means that Sawashiro isn't safe despite being in prison.

Ichiban and the others agree that now is the time to fight back and show Ryo Aoki that he can't throw his weight around Ijincho unchecked -- they're going to stop Sawashiro's assassination and push back against the looming threat Masato is imposing. Kiryu notes to Ichiban that their prior fight was not one in which the end result was victory or defeat, but a test of wills; and though Ichiban isn't quite on Kiryu's level yet, he will be -- one day.

With that, the torch has been passed. Now it's time to burn this motherfucker down.

[sknolls]

Pokemon Hot Takes. In a mood.

- Pokemon Green Mew is my favorite Mew

- Pokemon sprites in Gens 1 and 2 hit different

- Gen 1 OU is the best metagame.

- Ive never played it, but Gen 3 OU is probably what competitive Pokemon should strive to be like.

- It's extremely dumb that the official competitive format for Pokémon looks absolutely nothing like the single player campaign.

- Oricorio has the most fun ability in the series

- Doubles should be the default format in Pokémon. The most interesting moves, abilities, and Pokemon in the series are completely worthless during casual playthroughs because they don't function in singles.

- Pokemon should have standardized its BSTs a long time ago. There's power creep, and then there's not being able to use your favorite Pokemon because they've always sucked.

- Pokemon shouldn't bother with having main stories. It's much more charming to take the approach of having a bunch of small stories and lore tidbits.

- HMs aren't a bad idea, they were just handled in the worst way humanly possible. Reference, literally any fan game that changes the concept even a little.

- Defog is a lame move. Heavy Duty Boots might have been an interesting item if item claus was standard in singles, but it really just isn't very interesting atm. Pursuit should never have been removed. Hidden Power is a lame move. Substitute isn't a fun move to deal with (and it often breaks the AI in singleplayer).

- Gen 1 Hyperbeam and early gen Explosion are the best designed moves in the series. They're very fun to use in PvP.

- Every ability should be able to accomplish something in battle. Random utility abilities aren't very interesting.

- Pokemon's method of capture isn't fun. It needs to be reworked in a way that makes it less RNG heavy. It's not fun throwing balls at something for 5+ minutes on end. If you status a Pokémon on Red health and throw an Ultra Ball at it, that should have a 100% capture rate, regardless of the Pokémon.

- Shedinja is fucking cringe. It's not fun to fight in single player, it's not fun to use in single player, and it's very not fun to fight in PvP.

- Metronome battles are extremely fun and my only complaint is that the move should be tailored to have higher odds of funnier moves being pulled. Like, it's very funny having your Pokemon use Celebrate, Judgement, Fly, Explosion. It's very lame when your Pokemon uses Water Gun, Shadow Claw, Tackle.

- More Pokemon should be designed like Lando-T, Gen 3 Starmie, Gen 3 Ttar, VGC Arcanine, Gen 2 Snorlax, etc. where they can do a lot of different things at a time depending on the team's needs without breaking the game with any one thing.

- Set-up moves are way too powerful in singles. They're fine in doubles because they're high risk high reward, but they aren't fun to deal with in singles. They're also not very interesting to use in the single player game, especially since most of them are either useless or overpowered, with minimal in-between.

- the type chart should be simplified. There's no reason for rock and ground to be different types. Flying doesn't need to be a type when you consider that it took, like, a decade for a Pokemon that's pure Flying to be released. Dark and Ghost don't need to be different types. Dragon doesn't need to have its own type. Most Dragon types either don't really look like dragons or could've been given a different type. Normal and Fighting don't need a distinguisher. But also, Normal needs more going on. Psychic and Fairy don't need to be different types either. Bug is just a very sad typing.

- Ice should be reworked into a defensive type. Most ice types are slow defensive Pokémon despite their typing being an active hindrance to the concept.

- Stealth Rocks would be a well designed move in PvP if it wasn't excessively punishing to pokemon weak to Rock. No Pokémon should lose half of their HP when switching in on a game reliant on swapping in and out Pokémon regularly. It just needlessly cripples too many Pokémon and makes x4 rock weak Pokémon basically be required to either be ridiculous offensive threats or obsolete. Which ruins the usability of otherwise cool and staple Pokémon like Moltres. It also doesn't help that Stealth Rocks is useless in single player and niche, at best, in Doubles and VGC, but it's omnipresent in 6v6 singles.

- Moves should have more standardized power levels. It's not very interesting in single player going "time to replace ember with incinerate because incinerate has 10 more base power." And it would be nice to see a few more options for STAB than we typically get.

- Evasion shouldn't be in the game. Or, at least, it shouldn't block damage from happening in its entirety. It's not fun in single player, and it's very unfun in PvP. It's basically banned from every format that does bans because it's so uncompetitive and badly designed.

- Same sentiment holds for Attract, Confusion, Paralyze Chance, Crits (especially in gens 2-5), Sleep Duration, Flinch Chance, Low Accuracy Moves. The problem isnt the RNG, the problem is that there just shouldn't an instance where a move only might accomplish nothing when pressed. Especially in faster paced metagames. The worst offenders are 90% and 95% accuracy moves and Focus Blast. This isn't fun in the single player campaign, and it's so much worse in PvP. This problem gets exponentially worse the faster paced a metagame is.

- IVs were a terrible idea and should be removed from the game. They're a major barrier to entry for PvP.

- EVs are a good idea but I dislike their implementation. First of all, the way the numbers are calculated is weird. The way you gain them requires looking up a wiki if you want to interface with the mechanic outside of Pokemon Showdown. And the max amount should be enough to fully fill 2.5 stats instead of 2 stats plus 4 extra EVs to throw onto one stat.

- Shiny Pokemon should have a 0.5 - 1% chance of appearing. It's unreasonable for them to be even 0.1%, and the actual number is much lower than that. If they were more common, shinies would be a really good addition to the gameplay loop.

- Zoroark would be a better Pokémon if it had multiple abilities to choose from. As it is, the Pokemon's entire gimmick is ruined by team preview. Zoroark also should've been a support pokemon instead of a set-up sweeper. If it had moves like Glare.

[abrooklynboy]

water

[Memory Meme: Send a word and I will write a memory, thought or short scene for my/our muses with something related to that word]

again. lol, 'short.' icons are scene breaks. (where else am I going to use some of these?)

Warnings: Period-Related Great Depression issues, War violence, homophobia. Canon-Typical brainwashing, mind control. this piece has everything! skinny Steve! D-Day! Freezing!

Water | Steve/Captain & Bucky/Soldier

Summary: The blood of the covenant is stronger than the waters of the womb. They've done both now. Shared blood, their own and others, shed in alleyways and battlefields.

They died together in ice and water and they were born together. Even when he can't remember his past, his name, he knows she's the most important person in his life.

Several things go off in Steve's life when the stock market crashes. Dead father, Ma working two jobs and going to nursing school at nights. He's been working for most of his life, selling the evening paper after school, but it's not enough. Joseph's funeral expenses (scant as they were) ate what they had left. Two months behind on rent. They get evicted; the local communists drag their meager posessions back into the apartment like the piece of paper doesn't matter.

Bucky's family has more mouths to feed and aren't really that better off than Steve. They still throw him an apron and tell him to stock shelves.

He's too proud to admit they probably bought him and Ma more time, more than glasses of water and breadlines. Ma finishes school and things get a bit better, for a while.

Steve puts the kettle on when Bucky tells him she's engaged. Arnie is out on a job, leaving the two best friends alone. "That's swell," he says, alternating between getting the tea and a couple of Ma's teacups out and taking care of his nose that yet again sprung another leak. Behind the diner, this time. Despite the muffled voice, he is enthusiastic. A rare Steve Rogers smile that isn't slanted to the side, suspecious, cautious, or bitter.

Jack didn't look at Steve like he was competition or something he found on the bottom of his shoe.

"He's not a ten." An old joke. Bucky was the best gal Steve knew and he thought she deserved the best fella. Nobody in New York came close. "But he'll do."

Steve decides if he didn't hate water before, he despises it now. It feels like it's always raining, Commandos always having to navigate rough terrian made worse by sucking mud. Never enough drinkable in their canteens. Well, that's what he wanted right? To serve, a soldier's experience. Before he grew a foot and filled out. The ocean spray hits them in the face. Salt.

He wouldn't be able to do all this without Bucky's support. Her mind, connections, trigger finger. The men and Peggy see more than the general public. Bucky knows him. Can feel her eyes on him across the LCVP. They've all got pre-battle jitters more than usual. Operation Overlord was integral to the real campaign. Yet, here they were, a mix of the Commandos and regs, ready to follow Captain America up the beach, where the fighting will be the roughest. Every jackboot wants the reward of nailing the Star Spangled Man with a Plan.

"Come on! We've got work to do," Cap yells back with a wave of his hand. Shield up, already deflecting bullets, shrapnal the second they head down the ramp. Pink-tinted frigid waves wash up bodies, supplies. A cacophany of suffering. Forward. Two things run through his head; the mission objective and Keep them alive, keep them alive, please God, let me keep them alive.

Much, much later, he sees a comic of that damn sidekick version of Bucky sitting on a gun next to Captain America. They didn't have time for sitting around, posing.

He knows, as soon as he looks at the controls, that they were on a one-way trip. Condemned to the sea. All he can do is watch as the ice comes up to meet them, holding Bucky's hand. Wants to apologize, for dragging her into a frozen hell. Instead, he looks up at her, squeezing her hand. Can see his own fear reflected in her eyes. At least they're going down together. "Thank you for everything, Buck." A rumble, crash like the world is ending, head hitting the console with a sickening crack.

He wakes up, taking in the wreckage. Water in his boots, burning, head on fire (the blood's frozen, otherwise he'd be like a spurting hydrant). There's not enough time, there's never enough time. She was knocked across the cockpit, arm pinned under some beams. He crawls to her, thoughts fading like snow, whiteout conditions. Share what remains of his bodyheat. Like a furnace. Lays on his side, next to her, facing her, arms wrapped around her. Isn't sure if she can see him, hear him. Breath in clouds. Teeth chattering, "S'okay...Gonna...be...okay..." It's so cold, ice forming on them like a thin blanket. It stops hurting.

He's the first to know, though neither woman tells him. The Captain and podrooga have learned each other's body language throughout the years they've been awake. The Captain watches his friend and Romanova spar, watches them dance. It's good to see them together. Something real, for all the assumptions, the disrespect before they mothballed that part of the project, the Captain does not have for his friend.

While his friend sneaks into her rooms, he's usually in the alley below, sketching under a light, handful of rocks at his side. Walks around the neighborhood. If there's anyone sniffing around, he flings the pebbles at the window.

The human body is 60% water. While he's seen his friend and Romanova injured, sticky blood, bruises pooling under their skin, he's not seen either of them cry until Comrade General Karpov and his men come with their stun guns and drag them away from one another.

Finger pointing at his chest, where the white star is, "<Captain, you are her superior officer. You should have immediately reported them.>"

Next is the pain. Punishment. They ask him over and overy why. Why did two women do that, why didn't you say anything. When he sets his jaw and doesn't respond, they switch tactics. Sensory deprivation room, tank, drugs. Whatever's necessary to scrub their minds clean of her with bleach. He sits in the chair, dazed, head only upright because of the straps. There was something important. His friend's smile, wide and sweet.

Rogers (Steve/Cap was a good man who died and he's still circling back around on Steven) and Jane walked out of the Potomac and have been on the run ever since. He doesn't know what's going on in her head, but his is killing him. The Serum gave him photographic memory and it's finally reasserting itself since Department X and HYDRA stopped poking around in there. Knows he's fated to remember every single detail at some point and is afraid to know what will remain of him.

He's not the same man who went into the ice, decades ago. Whatever desire he had for normalcy, a family, a life was snuffed out the moment he hit the controls. His mouth tastes like saltwater and blood when he wakes up from nightmares. Hands stained with charcol, with sins, sketching and writing crammed into the sketchbook he picked up. The shield sits in a bag like a wounded, judging creature. One sleepless night, he takes an industrial sized container of paint stripper and scrubs decades of black and red paint off. Chemicals rub his hands raw and cause him to cough. Dawn shines its first light on the plain, silver metal. It's enough for now.

HYDRA's not dead, nothing ever dies that easy. Department X may be low to the ground after the USSR days. Revenge, they decide, sounds like a good place to start. They practically wrote the book on how to bring governments down overnight.

It takes time to throw off the command words, time to plan. They learn what was done to them as they go, boxes full of files.

Rumlow looks good for someone who had a building dropped on him. Fought better than he used to. Enhanced. Still, Rogers has experience and white hot rage on his side. Crossbones goes down eventually and gets dragged to the hideout the duo are staying.

Rogers dumps the man at Jane's feet. "Save some for me, why don'tcha," he jokes, sitting against the wall. The roof leaks.

The blood of the covenant is stronger than the waters of the womb. They've done both now. Shared blood, their own and others, shed in alleyways and battlefields.

They died together in ice and water and they were born together, twice over. This time, they get to decide what to do next.

[corvuschriisti]

"My lord Naesala, are you hurt?" Deirdre can see it on her friend's face that something is clearly bothering him and she can only assume it is an injury from the battle. She has also been instructed to rest but she can still help! She would rather exert herself a bit now if it means a chance at cheering up someone she cares for. "Come, let me take a look at you."

He looks up as Lady Deirdre approaches. It seems he's getting a lot of attention here in the medical tent, and he does not mind it. It is what he deserves, of course -- he was terribly injured, he needs beautiful women (and herons) to take care of him.

"Of course," he says, and feigns a cough. "I'm very hurt. If you wouldn't mind helping me..."

[corvuschriisti]

into a white & soundless place.

!!! (tw for bone breaking, mutilation) !!!

You would have thought death would feel different.

Technically speaking, it's not your body that's dying, is it? You've established that this realm is not yours, correct? If Reyson was not real, if Python and Diarmuid and Harken were not real -- then you surely cannot be either. Then why does everything feel so...

It starts off as a game. Forsyth looks filled with rage and you can tell that he knows; somehow, the green knight has divined that you were indeed the one to smother Python in his sleep. To be there with his last breath.

Yarne looks between you and you also know that he's trying. He's just a boy -- and you wonder: did you look like that when you were just a nestling, too?

Through doors and crooked alleyways you all cram your bodies against stone and rot and vines and shadows. You hold onto Byleth's hand and find a familiar warmth, it comes not from the professor but from that which radiates above you.

He glows. He is cold indifference, the way a god might look down upon its worshippers. You do not know if you have even knelt at Reyson's alter, but you do know that you have found salvation between the strands of gold, the spaces between fingers. It is not yours to keep -- fleeting creature that you are: your place of worship is wrought with lies and filth and betrayal.

( It is not the memories of Harken's murder. Of Diarmuid's beheading. It's the memory of turning to Reyson, eyes wet with something that's not-quite tears, a desperate reaching out -- the words "I love you" spoken for the first time ever... that is what distracts you. )

And it snaps. Snap, crunch, break. There is a space on a bird's bones that hinges right near the fold, where the humerus meets the radius and ulna, that crushes.

You're usually so much more careful. Oh, stupid, stupid, hated thing.

It sets off a ripple effect, cracking to the first digit. The pain you feel in your body is more than anything you've ever experienced. And still:

"Reyson..."

It's aimless. You've lost Forsyth and Yarne, and you are slowed through thin, suffocating tunnels. You cannot fly with a broken wing. So, you reach.

( Because he is a bright light. He is everything you wish you could be. He is a home, even if he lost his own. He is where you want to settle your weary head. )

If you cannot be like the hawk king, then you cannot be worthy of a heron. And you will never, ever be like the hawk king.

You reach, and suddenly you are him. You are something divine and holy once again, much like you were in the fight. You can feel his hatred burn you from the inside out, and you wonder if this is your punishment.

If anyone should get to close your eyes forever, it should be Reyson. And thusly: he does.

[corvuschriisti]

[ 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 ] : sender and receiver are spooning for comfort and warmth.

This is not his own bed, is the first thought that registers in Andrei's clouded mind as he regains consciousness. In fact, it is not any bed at all. His side is pressed against the cold, hard ground, and as if to add to the atmosphere, he could hear the howling of wind outside.

And yet, oddly enough, he does not feel like he's freezing, nor is he too uncomfortable even lying on the earth like this. Despite the temperatures, there is something warm covering him, like a soft down blanket, blocking out the elements. Blearily, he opens his eyes.

There are feathers around him, jet black. Familiar. Moving.

"W-what are you doing," Andrei whirls around at record speed for his current position, feeling the heat crawl up his cheeks as he finds his face inches away from Naesala's. He pushes himself away, putting a respectable amount of distance between them (and if he momentarily mourns the loss of the comforting warmth the other had provided, that is information he would very much like to keep to himself.)

Belatedly, he remembers embarking on the mountaintop mission with the raven, frigid winds whipping at his hair and seeping deep into his bones. The slow, steep climb up the mountain path, and then... Everything after is a haze.

"What happened?" he asks Naesala, in a calmer tone this time, though the flush does not abate from his expression just yet. Honestly, he's not even sure he wants to know the answer.

for you i would ↳ meme

His wing covers Andrei's body, and Naesala's arms are so close to wrapping around him.

It's for warmth, he tells himself -- because it would not do to be so familiar with his friend. But it is when his limbs do try to wrap themselves around his body that Andrei stirs.

Andrei turns, demands an explanation, and Naesala keeps his expression schooled into an easy smile. He watches the blush on his cheeks and cannot help but smile wider; this is one of his favorite expressions that dearest Andrei gifts him.

"Did you want to freeze to death?" he asks lightly, and spreads his wing out. He leans back and lets him have his space, though he too hates the distance that is between them and the warmth that has been taken. "Birds can get terribly cold, you know. Our hollow bones are not meant for such temperatures."

He opens his arms, the smile replaced with a little smirk. "Come back. We should rest, shouldn't we? And you'd feel terrible if you catch a cold, I could only imagine what your pretty face would look like all red and flushed."

[corvuschriisti]

“Back so soon, Mr. Ash?”

Azama looks the other over, wings and all, nodding here and there to himself,

and eventually comes to a conclusion:

“Were you even trying out there? You look rather hale and hearty from someone fresh from the battlefield, fit to walk off whatever booboos you’ve sustained out there.”

Azama smiles. Sure, maybe Naesala's taken a few lumps, but the trouble here is,

Azama's more interested in poking fun at the guy a bit.

“Trust me. I’m a professional.”

Azama is funny. Naesala likes him — and is quite glad to see that shit-eating grin on his face. It’s a nice sight after Naesala was completely destroyed out on the mock battlefield, even if he’s being currently being mocked.

“My booboos hurt quite a bit,” Naesala replies with more than a little sarcasm in his voice. “Oh, nurse Azama, I was hoping you would heal me from what hurts the most. I trust you’re certified in the art of fixing superficial wounds and ailments?”

Truth is, Naesala had a lot of fun. Even if he was eliminated in the first round he was able to keep up with his teammates... for the most part. He may be a mite disappointed, but it’s all in good fun. Besides — there’s scarcely anything that ravens love more than flying about and play fighting.

[corvuschriisti]

After a few minutes of hyping herself up once she finally spotted him, Elise awkwardly approaches the guy she only knows to herself as ‘bird man’. Which is probably really rude and possibly offensive. She should stop that.

She takes a deep breath before speaking. “Um…. Hi, Mr…. Uh…..” Uh oh. No, just get the main issue out of the way. Apologize for not knowing his name later. She clears her throat and starts over. “Sorry for, uh… hitting you. And stuff. I know that was sort of the point of the whole thing but. Still. I hope I didn’t hurt you too bad.”

This was the girl who delivered the final blow. He was glad that it wasn’t the woman with the arrows that did him in ( though, she was quite the worthy opponent — even if he really believes that such a dangerous weapon should not have been allowed in the first place ), but the magic still hurt quite a bit.

He smiles, just a little. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve never seen a spell like you wielded out there, so I was woefully unprepared. Usually its wind magic that is used against me — so this was a welcome change.”

He pauses. She seems sweet, and for some reason he has no desire to tease her. He makes a quick comparison to Leanne, finds the similarities therein, and is content to be civil. Perhaps he has a soft spot. “I’m fine, though. Thank you for checking in on me. You’re very kind.”

[corvuschriisti]

"Naesala," Kurthnaga walks carefully over to the raven, gently tossing a juice box in his direction. There had been a lot of different flavours, too many in fact for Kurthnaga to choose from, so he had just grabbed a random one. Oh dear, he hoped he hadn't chosen wrong, "Um... it's..." He pauses, squinting at the box of the same flavour still remaining in his hand. One to share, one for himself, "Orange, if that's alright."

He smiles, "Are you doing okay?"

A second juice box? They're handing these out for free! Surprising, he would be charging if he had this much.

"Orange is perfectly fine," he says as he holds the box. He's assuming these came from the beorc, and they are so funny with their packaged and preserved foods. This is something he can hold onto for later. Naesala is used to eating whatever scraps he could get his hands on so that now when something is easily transportable, he wants to keep it hidden away in case he needs it another time.

"Thank you, Kurth. How did your battle go?"

[corvuschriisti]

🧃

“Hey mister bird man! Here!” Ewan approached him and handed him a juice box. “You looked super cool out there!”

"Did I?" he supposes it would look pretty spectacular to fly up high. He smiles, his hand running back through his hair as he slicks it back. "I suppose I did my best. That's all one can ask for. Ah... and thank you for the juice."

[corvuschriisti]

The chaos of this battlefield is not nearly as disorienting as that of a true, large-scale war. Though grim determination and fierce competitiveness pound like a frenzy of discordant notes against her senses, there is also, here and there, the lilting tone of joy and friendships being formed.

Still, Leanne keeps a safe distance from the battle itself, and it is not until she can make out the distinct, dark wings headed towards the edge of the field, where the medical tents had been set up, that she flits forward, intercepting her target.

"Naesala!" Worry is plainly evident in her tone, brows knit in a rare expression of dismay as she looks up at the raven, "I heard you were participating in this battle. Your wings aren't fully healed, are they?"

She thinks of Rafiel, how her eldest brother had, through mistreatment and injury, lost his chance to take to the skies. She did not want to imagine the same happening to another member of her family.

"Promise me you'll take the time to heal before you do the next dangerous thing, won't you?" Leanne asks, "Even if this was only a training exercise, I wouldn't want you to be hurt forever because of it..."

He should have felt guilty before he joined a mock battle. He didn't, though, it was something that sprouted up after. It's not an unfamiliar feeling at all -- Naesala is made up of feathers and regrets -- but it still stings all the same when Leanne looks at him with worried eyes.

"I'm fine," he says, and it's true. Elise's magic didn't hurt as bad as it could have. He extends his wounded wing and the thing shakes as he does. He immediately regrets this attempt at strength.

He tries to distract and instead puts an arm around her shoulder to comfort. "I promise I won't do something like this again. I wanted to show support for the Blue Lions, of course, and how better to do so than to fight?"

He shouldn't worry his family. He smiles and hides the shame -- shame of his loss, and shame of his impulsive nature.

"I'll escort you to the med tent, if you'd like. There are many who would love a galdr right now."

[corvuschriisti]

There is a short moment of respite after defeating the opponents that first faced him and those of the Black Eagles house, and Andrei takes it to sneak off the battlefield, towards the medical tent where he'd seen a(n unfortunately) now-familiar figure heading not too long before.

He had thought to handle it on his own, but the unpredictability of even a mock battle is a danger he could not quite afford. He would need a trustworthy hand to aid him in this endeavor, and there is only, really, one promising target in mind.

...'Trustworthy' and 'promising' are not the usual words he would use to describe Naesala. Perplexing, perhaps even infuriating much of the time, would be far more appropriate. But he could think of no better person for this particular problem.

(Is it prejudiced, to assume that someone with wings will be able to take care of an egg better than the average human? Andrei does not give it thought.)

As luck would have it, Naesala is one of those heading out of the medical tents the moment Andrei arrives, and so he strides up to the other. "I need your help," he says brusquely, producing a tiny wicker basket from within his pocket, a small speckled egg nestled peacefully within a few scraps of fur. Protected by the heavy lock that he'd brought for the battle, no direct physical hits would've been able to harm it, but if he were hit by magic in the upcoming battles... "Keep it warm and safe. I'll come back for it after the battle."

A pause. "...Please. Thank you," he adds stiffly, before turning back, slipping back onto the field and towards the next fight awaiting him.

Naesala likes Andrei. Truly, he does; he would not tease him half as much if he did not. And though he is not sure that this friendship is reciprocated it is still something he feels -- enough that he finds himself almost rooting for the Black Eagles.

The Raven King is not used to friendships that he cannot barter and sell for something to better himself and his country. He does not think of Andrei in shifting coin and monetary gains. That is... unheard of. New.

So when he is approached, the bird is too tired not to act surprised. His wing is fixed and his spirits lifted, conversations with Reyson and Leanne fresh in his mind. Eyes land on the blond man's frame and he smiles that stupid little smile of his.

"My help?" he asks, and almost adds it will cost you. He doesn't, though. Instead he takes the basket and holds it in his hands. He does not ask questions -- instead, he pauses and looks down at the little egg he's been entrusted to take care of.

"I... will," he says with surprise in his voice. With a gentleness that reminds Naesala of how he speaks with Yarne he cradles the egg protectively, and whispers something in the ancient tongue as Andrei leaves:

"Come, little thing. Let's cheer for the Black Eagles, shall we?"

[corvuschriisti]

Though he'd not been paying incredibly close attention (he was a puppy, for one, and there was a lot of good food around for another), Honk had noticed one person going to and fro throughout the crowded dining hall and...well, sneaking off with something or another that he didn't start with.

Small things, shiny things -- things the puppy cared very little about, unless they smelled funny or tasted good.

But, as the man worked his way through the crowd, the pup couldn't help thinking it was a game. Did this mean he could try to take something, too? That sounded fun! Keep away!

So, with a playful waggle of his butt, Honk waited until big, black wings were close enough -- and then made a clumsy leap, trying to catch a feather or two between his razor sharp little puppy teeth!

Of course he was taking things. It was much too easy to, and it would very silly to ignore all of the shiny items about. Some of the jewelry only looked nice, while some of these trinkets could be sold for more than a few coins.

His pockets are beginning to feel a touch heavier with all the hidden treasures he's found when he feels someone -- something? -- hit his back and pull out a few of his precious feathers in the process.

"Aah--!"

He falls forward, and loses his balance just a little. He stumbles forward but regains his stance; as he turns around he looks the animal in the eye.

He frowns and sticks out his hand. "Those are mine," he says, very serious as he kneels down to take the black feathers out from between those little puppy teeth. "You are misbehaving. You should never take that which does not belong to you."

He smiles, then scratches behind the dog's ears. "Or, at least do not let yourself get caught."

[corvuschriisti]

a kiss to comfort, kissing each cheek after tenderly wiping tears away

"don't worry," he whispers, pressing a kiss to naesala's cheeks, one and then the other. each evening they spend in one another's embrace feels somehow uncertain, like he's waiting for the knife to fall, waiting for naesala to leave again.

still, he savors moments like this when he has them, holding him close and losing himself in the relaxing beat-beat of the raven's heart. reyson has a habit, of giving gentle kisses to those he loves. "stay with me tonight. and if you wake before me, stay right here. i want to wake up to you."

chaste kisses, accepting !

His eyes are closed, and he leans into each of the kisses that Reyson presses to his cheeks. His wings twitch, as if he wants to leave and take flight -- but he does not make a move to do so.

Naesala does not deserve these sorts of things. He does not deserve these moments, and yet he cannot push Reyson away. He is weak, and he is needy, and he is so very, very loved.

He opens his eyes and leans forward, kissing the heron on the lips. He's always been a bit too greedy, wishing for a bit more than what is in front of him. "I can do that," he says, and whispers it against his lips. "I'll stay for you."

[corvuschriisti]

So he was here. At the banquet. Mr. Ash, or Naesala, or whatever name he chose to go by. Eldigan swallowed a thousand frowns and grimaces. There was only so much he could do to avoid a man who seemed to end up wherever he went! But Eldigan put a high value on propriety. He may as well greet the man at this lavish dinner Sigurd and Ethlyn had put on then sulk in the back. The lionheart was many things - a warrior, a statesman, a man of pride, but he was no coward. He would not turn tail and run away when the raven perched at the window. Approaching, Eldigan steeled himself, tightening his hands and forcing a smile. If Naesala would be frustrating, he would simply deal with it. No sense in making a scene at such a big party. That was an embarrassment. "Good evening, Naesala," Eldigan said. "I hardly expected to see you here, but then again, you are everywhere, to be quite honest." The wine glass is passed to another hand as he silently roars.

"I am everywhere, aren't I?" Naesala said, a lazy little grin on his face. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowed as he observed the party around them. There were some who were laughing, some dancing, and many more who were just about gossiping. He had heard enough gossip at this point to sate his hunger, but he could not help but wish to poke the gallant knight a little more.

It seemed that this gentleman -- Lord Eldigan or what-have-you -- was in just as good spirits as the day they discovered Jakob's body. That meant that there was some consistency at least.

He smiled more, and considered if there was a button he could steal off of his jacket without risking breaking an arm. "If I'm everywhere, it must be because you think of me often. I truly have left quite the impression on you. Is it my good looks that have you so enamored?"

He knew that wasn't the case at all. He leaned in close, scrutinizing the other man as he tried to figure out how to get him to let his guard down. There were shiny objects on the line here -- perhaps he could get him to have a bit more to drink, and therefore act a bit less uptight.

He picked up a wine glass and offered it to him. "Yours is almost empty. Perhaps you need another."