#interaction: lycianlynx

[peerlessscowl]

Another year passes. Raven doesn't seem any older, any closer to the man Chad had come to know further down the line, further in a future Raven has yet to see. It galls them, too, that they had forgotten his face enough to not recognise him sooner—To stay away in the first place, that they had forgotten at all, to make sure their own tragedies remain far-off and intangible. To spare them both.

But here they are with rapport that is not what they'd known before, but isn't so far from that familiar feeling of safety, of comfort. Company they genuinely enjoy is hard to come by. It's something a greedy heart won't easily let go of.

Because before any of that, he'd gotten to know Raven as Raymond. Even if it was some kind of facade, same as before, it doesn't matter—It's easier to tell what's thorns and what's leaves when it's one bramble-bush to another, and Chad's run his fingers along enough leaf-veins to know that his kindnesses were always real.

And he's kind of a shit actor, if he was trying at all in the first place. Not that they'd tell him that.

Raven isn't a student anymore, his dorm is gone from the register, another name written down in his stead. That hardly matters, either. Chad finds him anyways, or at least where he's staying; A utilitarian room, similar to the state Chad had tried to clean theirs up to when Al became their temporary roommate, which they'd summarily given up on when he arrived earlier than expected— Is Raven the same? Does he have all his little keepsakes stashed in a drawer, or in a bag thrown under the bed, or doesn't he? Did he keep the last box? Was it too cumbersome for a drifter like him?

Idle hopes tuck in fears. Bottom line is, if they made a mistake, they just have to fix it... If this can be called fixing it. Like before, they slip in silently, minding the trip wire, not letting their eyes wander, keeping their hands to themself. Again, they place their gift on the desk. Again, it is butter and salt and brown sugar, that perfect gold-brown, still warm, almost soft.

This time, instead of a wooden box, a simple kerchief to keep tidy. Tied to the neck of the bundle, a traveller's charm of feather and beads, teal and red. This time, they linger on the windowsill, just out of sight of the door, just for a little while, just in case—

(But like before, when the choked-out grief begins to grasp their chest too tight, they open the window and leave that way.)

It wasn't difficult to set a trap, if you knew the sort of quarry you were pursuing.

Raven had learned these lessons young - that knowing the ins-and-outs of a hunt would do a man no good if the techniques didn't suit the prey - and carried them with him, close to his heart, and, whether he liked it or not, put these skills to good use in all areas of his life, no matter how mundane.

He knew how to set a trip wire.

And he knew where to set one to guide a smarter prey into the direction he wanted them to go.

They had developed this habit, he couldn't say how - more that wanting to admit the things that he knew to be truth was still just outside of his reach - of avoiding one another when they wanted to see each other most. The boy had caught on just as quick, had played into it, seemed to be cut of a similar cloth to himself, but with less of the painful intention of it.

Which was neither here nor there most days, but, quite in spite of himself, Raven had been reminded that it was his birthday.

As though on cue, the creak of a window above him caused him to tilt his head upwards from where he leant against the stone wall of the alley just outside of his room.

He knew how to wait, as well. That was just as valuable a skill to have.

None could have dared accuse him of being impatient.

Pushing himself off the wall, he moved to stand in the boy's way, blocking the exit to the alley, cocking his head, eyes narrowed in soft consideration.

A beat, a long, heavy pause of things that might have been said, if either of them were a different person.

"Come on then," he said, finally, with a jerk of his head to the backdoor to the alley - leading into the inn's kitchen, where he had left on a pot of tea, and some milk.

For the cookies.

[warpaway]

HEY EVERYONE – april makes kind of a landmark for me as it means i've been in the officer academy community for about six months!! i thought it'd be nice to commemorate the occasion with a follow forever!!  i've met so many new people through the officer academy and it's been such a blast returning to tumblr rp and being able to join such a welcoming and lovely community!!

urls are organized in no particular order and segregated by titles and formatting just to make the post pretty.

ME, ITS MOTH – i like to follow myself so that i can see my own posts on every dash.  in case you didn't know, i also run these blogs!!  feel free to come over and say hello!!

@azelfire @senerist @warpaway

NEW FRIENDS – i feel like i can comfortably call you people friends and i'm so glad to have met you through this group!!

@adalrikr @yukyunotabibito @goldoanheart @tossup-tempest @contempenitent @lollipop-bribes @radiantpaths @freliasarrow @justicespeared @naganokoe @thunderbanned @vallitevoice @livingrief @otgolokh @anthieseofvalentia @adheidth @nevassan @loyaldeserter @viridescent-lance @katabatiic @berglietz @aimlessarchery @allyphase @encantresse @luminousrider @nagaficat

HELLO AGAIN – after quitting tumblr rp for about 6 years i wasn't sure i would ever come back.  being able to reconnect with familiar faces has been a lot of fun!!

@blacktempest @in--nagas--name @fletching-scar @landslioness @craneswings @jasperblion @tineoffreege @pirrhyc @diadic @lazulienne @deliverred @justicefanged @fangedjustice

AGI – agi (she/they)

@princeofopenness @hatariwildheart @direthunder

EYES ON YOU – i have been lurking your threads especially.  i love seeing you guys on my dash!!

@kgetsu @rafent @duchaisruin @war-father @quartzhearted @losojos-decupido @theofficersacademy @hosannan @nobilisseoblige @mahalikha @cotharach @zweiflugelig @starrook @sciathrach @hermidetta @stellalimned @dcggersedge @verseandrhyme @cursedbluebird @maligknightsthorns @old-scalebag @ulircursed @shadoll @twistedisciple

HERE'S TO THE FUTURE – to all of you who didn't fit in any of the above categories, to all of you who i haven't yet had the pleasure of interacting with, and to all of you who have still made this group a lovely place to be for me.

@eruditesunrise @freliaslance @futurepastlord @sublimeflowoftime @pillarofopenness @nohrslittleflower @amatsuken @heavy-draw @petuniasblessing @grxstnnefealltoir @cielenruine @bladeunbound @crimsonpaved @petuniasblessing @fe13chrom @fellincantation @lunatenais @unrivale @gloucesterrose @freedomarrow @regnumaves @failnaughted @threads-of-healing @anruraiocht @nabataprophet @machiot @goldmaries @heriteur @gentleaureole @heliacalrisings @deathsdue @bladebrecher @archiepiscopus @crevassier @egittae @astrasword @ninisdance @shiningfalcon @championsblade @verdantshotarrow @optimismxmagicism @cendrivinite @rozyrne @wolfhednn @gurado-no-nouru @far-from-common @grimatruth @rineas @thestaunchshieldvassel @lilchxrmer @dyshonor @crookedorel @blaiddllodi @peerlessscowl @serraic @wingboundwarrior @mercenarymage @boundlesschaos @lindwyvrm @tomestudyholic @taguelbunnyboy @bladespromotedpawn @moriddyn @thelightofcreation @renaisguy @deamare @fluxrspar @knighteclipsed @alyration @unsungblade @princepsumbra @laslow @princessmacedon @ephemeralove @frauleindermorgen @amitieos @ashenprofessor @hresvelged @virtuoustyrfing @sacretic @carefreemonk @gentlenekomata @reddragonprincess @aubins @justices-blade @lycianlynx @fabledoath @lionscion @delicatevalentine

thank you all for a lovely six months!!  here's to another unspecified time period!!

[princessmacedon]

{ OOC: housekeeping!

it's been a while since i did one of these and i have a great big mess to clean up ASDFDSD so! threads below the cut, and if i missed something please let me know!

UPDATED:

per suggestion of the newsletter, mun pages ( 🐦 ) ( 🐈‍⬛ ) now have guidelines

both maria and katarina's supports pages have been brought up to date!

threads + thread tracker nonsense below!!

here's my thread tracker! currently, it should contain all of my active threads, excepting those from the ethereal ball and as always, please don't feel as though you need to rush! (especially those of you whose threads i just replied to while fixing my shit AHSDHSDFHSD) this is for my organizational sake HAHA ; i'm glad to continue any and all threads, but if you're not feeling one anymore that's fine too >vo)v

MARIA

Waiting on me:

something old, something new -- @ventusanimae

spirit of healing -- @ashenprofessor

what my cover shows -- @knighteclipsed

all things precious -- @reddragonprincess

red riding hood's basket -- @justices-blade

wondrous tails -- @carefreemonk

with those who favor fire -- @arcelerity

objects in mirror -- @raikuroji

three lions walk out of a field (BOEL) -- @pirrhyc @sharpscion

paperwork perils -- @magictome

land and heavens near -- @lycianlynx

solace in the abyss -- @justices-blade

Waiting on partner:

an end to the song -- @arcstral

sun's shine -- @lycianlynx

shadows in the moonlight -- @hresvelged

birds chasing cats -- @aubins

not dead yet -- @alliberacio

from winter's close emerging -- @hermidetta

i do believe in fairies! -- @nagaficat

KATARINA

Waiting on me:

seeds of hope -- @arcaeda

a blanket of white, unbroken -- @knighteclipsed

a mystery in monochrome -- @gentlenekomata

the road that we walk -- @unsungblade

a day in (un)kingly shoes -- @arcstral

Waiting on partner:

uprooting wallflowers -- @unsungblade

a fleeting fata morgana -- @nabataprophet

cat cat kitty cat -- @unsungblade

cooking by the book -- @amitieos

sham of a prince -- @hosannan

gallowed halls -- @princepsumbra

a night and day we'll never see -- @ulircursed

the mega bonk technique -- @sharpscion

the name of a villain -- @indevouement

TBD:

penpal randomizer -- @gauldheri

ETHEREAL BALL INTERACTIONS

with @cursedbluebird : i'm planning on tacking on an extra reply and have it fade to black if that's alright? :o marianne is so sweet though, thank you for sending her my way!! <3 <3

with @pirrhyc : while i do love lobbing the hot potato around ASDFSDFSDG i think i'll call it there?! but i really enjoyed their little exchange!! :pleading: :boom:

with @frauleindermorgen : i'm definitely down to make this into a mini thread :] unless i misunderstood aDSDDSFHF

ALL MASKS: maria was mask 22! if you'd like to play out the rest of a masquerade thread, i'm down! ^^)7

as always, if you need to contact me for anything, feel free to do so through here or discord!

[peerlessscowl]

As Raymond had gleaned Chad's birthday from the bulletins, so too did they his, snuck and tucked into memory as soon as he got the time to look.

That was the easy part. Thinking of a gift was harder; Raymond's about as inscrutable as they'd like to be; But from the stage they'd had to share, to the awful, awful flowers they'd bound together, to the water he'd pushed to them at their most pathetic in understanding silence —

It's. Warm. Familiar, too, in a way Chad doesn't know how to acknowledge. Recognition through the self, recognition through the other. Recognition, maybe, through something more distant he can't see even when squinting. It doesn't matter.

It's easier to put it this way: A debt is a debt to be repaid. A gift calls for reciprocation, plain and simple. Through the perfunctory excuses he didn't dare think the word friend, but already thought it in the denial itself. Nearly laughed at how stupid it is while wrapping the damn thing up, too.

Bah, he's as bad as Raigh at this point.

The parcel goes on Raymond's desk between classes. Within, a box of darker wood for holding writing implements or small tools, clusters of hydrangeas hand-burned into the lid. Cookies, salt-sweet, baked just the way Father taught them. Chad doesn't think he would appreciate them breaking into his room, but they do anyways, as a little spot of mischief, payback. They still leave everything else untouched, unobserved, because they trust him at least that much.

They don't leave a note.

He'd forgotten, actually.

It hadn't been an issue in so many years, that while Raven was vaguely aware that the boy named Raymond had been born just before the turn of rainy autumn into harsh winter, he the man had not had cause to celebrate in many years.

Had no one around to remind him.

He'd made the trip back around to his dorm - drop off a book, drop off his sword, change coats - and pressed his way into his room. Nothing felt off for a long moment, and it was almost as though he were a normal man going about a normal day.

And then Raven noticed the box.

He froze, midway through putting a new coat over his shoulders, and stared at the box on his desk for a few long moments, mind churning and furious that he'd allowed himself to let his guard down, that he hadn't even noticed that his string alarm had been moved, that someone had been in his room, and could still have been.

Slowly, he finished donning the coat, straightening the lapels before he approached, fingers still at his side as he considered the situation. Neat wrapping, small-ish box, nothing else amiss.

Gently, he worked a finger into one end of the wrapping, lifted the paper up to glance inside. Wood box. Nothing moving inside, no temperature change.

Eyes narrowing, he finally took the full step forward and carefully unwrapped the rest of the paper, hesitating upon seeing the ornate scorchwork that decorated the box. Flowers of some kind, frilly - his mind scoured for a match, canting his head as he lifted the lid.

Immediately the scent of a warm kitchen enveloped him - butter and salt and brown sugar - and he felt his heart squeeze, felt the hearth of Tintagel's kitchen warm against his flushed cheeks, the anticipation of watching the cooks work their magic around the woodstove with Lucius at his elbow, the tingle in his gut at the first bites of melting shortbread snuck to them before they scurried off.

His fingers brushed the ridges of one of the cookies in the box as his legs failed him, his weight crumpling into the seat at his desk. He didn't have to bite into them to know they were the same - it was in the flakes of salt that decorated the top, the pale butter color of the crumb, the sting of tears that pricked his eyes as the rainy day outside blended with the scent of petrichor from his memory.

After a moment, gently, Raven brushed his finger against his eyes, placed the lid back atop the wooden box. They didn't need more salt.

[mercenarymage]

"Don't say..." Hugh's voice trails off, mentally taking note of the lineup. An assassin, a priest...and Elffin, someone both Chad and himself knew quite well. The reaper - the one that was proposed before Hugh provided his piece - had been used to obscure this truth.

Or was that really the case?

Hugh ruffles at his hair with one of his hands. "Man, this sucks. I want to trust Elffin, but..." But it's a game, and meant to be goofy at that. "No, I think I'll stick to trusting Elffin for now. If you think the same, then that just leaves two, doesn't it? A fifty-fifty shot isn't half bad!"

Hugh's confidence on the whole thing has been shifting from 'I so got this' to 'it's so over', and the waver in his smirk tells all. He's having fun though, don't get him wrong. Sleuthing who the devils are is SO hard, though!

"Any plans on who you'll visit? If I visit Elffin, I can verify his innocence." He wonders if he can catch up with Selena, too.

A handful of Tricks, a hand missing Treats

[TOAJuicy - Round 3]

[peerlessscowl]

🥂 "... Hey Raymond." He nods and raises his juice cup in greeting. "Had a good fight?"

"Ah?" Raven tenses, having not heard any approach, and forces himself to calm. "Hey ki – Chad," he corrects himself. He raises his drink flute in response, tilting his chin at the greeting. 

He hesitates at the mention of the match – the loss no longer stung as it had, the weight no longer sitting in his chest. Nearly forgotten, just as the fresh scar tissue along his abdomen. After a moment he nods, confirming with, "I did. He was strong." 

It occurs to Raven that he didn't see much of the boy on the field, and he turned to face him fully, canting his head. "Did you? Your house won the whole thing, didn't they?" 

[peerlessscowl]

a kiss after treating a wound

("all better." it's childish, but he does it without thinking; too used to bandaging scrapes and bruises for younger kids, too wistful for when he was young and father would do this for him in turn.)

It's a bare scrape – honestly not even something that Raven was concerned about – but the boy had insisted, so Raven had sat and let himself get treated. He could not even argue that it was something he could do himself, the awkwardness of the cut's position on his wrist making it difficult to address one-handed. 

Not that he couldn't, of course, simply that the boy had stared at him, blank in his frustration, until Raven had acquiesced. 

So he sat, arm extended, waiting as Chad carefully applied an antibacterial, methodically wrapped the bandage, and when he was done pressed his lips to the finished bandage. 

They both seemed startled at the motion, so casual in its intimacy, and stared at his wrist for just a moment before Raven reached out to ruffle the boy's hair. "Thanks, kid. Let's get moving." 

[peerlessscowl]

How Do I Say Fuck You In Flower?

As the Ethereal Ball is only a little ways away, students and staff are doing their best to prepare via dancing lessons, outfit shopping, and event planning. This year a vendor arrives in town with a wagon full of flowers from all over the world in full bloom. They're quite the romantic though, so luckily for you, they're even offering corsage and boutonniere lessons. gift your crush, significant other, sworn enemy, or whoever it may be a lovely floral arrangement that you hand-picked and handmade! They won't judge if it looks ugly, but.. maybe the person next to you is better at arranging.

(starter for @lycianlynx)

"No, listen. I'm just here to pick up some flowers, I'm not - "

The vendor laughed and waved a hand. "It's all right, lad, we've no judgement for any o' you student types what don't have the courage to muster up for the apple o' their eye. We can keep this just 'tween you an' us, all right?" This was punctuated by a gentle elbow to Raven's side, which he swiped away.

"I don't - oh, to the saints above. Fine. I'm - " he grimaced, voice strained, "really just so very shy. Please teach me your ways so that I can pay for the damned flowers."

The vendor clapped him on the back, expression jovial as he moved about the cart. "We've got a bit of a selection here, and in our trailer yonder. Are you lookin' for somethin' to coordinate an outfit, or lookin' to send a message?"

Vaguely, Raven's mind cast back, back, back to his childhood, the gardens at Tintagel where his mother kept a wide array of blooms and filler, carefully crafted bouquets sent out to neighboring families for different purposes. And some flowers, he remembered vaguely, were sent out for a very specific purpose.

"Foxglove," he said with certainty. "I'd like it to center foxglove."

The vendor looked uncertain, scratching the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. "Dunno 'bout that one, kiddo. That one's - "

"Just so important. To. The object of my affections," Raven ground out.

It was enough, and the vendor's expression melted into a soft smile, and he shook his head. "All right, lemme check if we have any."

"And the other flowers. From this order." Raven held out the ticket and let out a long exhale as soon as the man's back was turned. He crossed his arms to wait, tapping his fingers impatiently, before he heard the barest telltale crunch of earth.

He glanced over his shoulder, nodding in greeting. "Hello Chad. Have you come to collect flowers for your class's preparations, as well?"

[peerlessscowl]

The shopkeep seemed to have gotten the cut of his jib by now, sighing and raising her fingers to pinch the bridge of her nose – a motion he was well enough acquainted with, though he felt a pang of remorse. He was tired, and irritated, and this errand had turned into something pushy and bothersome – but he had meant it when he'd said the flowers were of high quality. 

It was just that he wasn't one to be giving them. Not to anyone here, nor at home. Not like he was. 

She tried once more – the gentle pry, a skill no doubt honed over years of these cotillions, dozens if not hundreds of students eager to make connections outside their houses, or to establish a name for themselves. Only her bad luck that he wanted neither, merely to pay his tab and slink off. And she was right, to her credit – a single red centerpiece might have brought a sharp focal point, might have tied together a meaning into something resembling heartfelt. 

It was also beside the point. He'd made his statement, though at whom he was less sure. 

Chad picked up the slack for him – deliberately, unless he was much mistaken. The kid was too sharp to call attention to themselves for anything other than taking pity on me, but Raven wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. The boy, at least, seemed more earnest in his desires – seemed to actually have someone to give the flowers to. 

A better recipient for the merchant's attentions, all-around. 

Raven slipped from the bench the moment the woman's back was turned, making the briefest of eye contact with Chad to nod – once, deliberate – before he manoeuvered his body around the counter, the baskets heavy with plant life, to where his class's order sat, patiently awaiting him, near the till. 

He paid, and, nearly as instinctive afterthought, threw in enough for the boy's expenses as well. There was a pause, a moment of barest consideration, before his fingers moved to pluck his order's last remaining foxglove and wound it quickly together with a nearby hyacinth and daffodil – single stems all, with a piece of plain twine. At a passing glance, one might have merely assumed that it was three flowers of pleasing shape and color harmony, just a small exercise in making something pretty. 

The vendor, however, or anyone else skilled in messages or subtlety, might have seen it for what it was: I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. 

The shopkeep's daughter can hardly stop both of them from running wild. Chad moves quick and quiet. Raymond assembles his with a stubborn surety that even the poor woman is hard-pressed to challenge, presenting the finished bouquet with no further preamble.

The colors themselves are beautiful, that much is plain — The deep purple of the ribbon playing into the streaks of the tiger lilies and the petals of the foxglove, the marigold and carnation's yellows as sun-bright as the oranges. The size of each flower's taken into account in overall balance, too. It's pretty — Gaudy for someone like him, but it looks almost at home in Raymond's hands.

"Mm," they hum, nod. "I like them. Like night and day."

Their own hands wound a white ribbon around their marigold and a few sprigs of lily of the valley; Bright sun, small clouds. Caught and held it fast to a ruffle of accentuating fabric, something that might adorn the end of a sleeve, reminiscent of white sheets off a clothesline.

In the corner of his eye, the shopkeep stifles a sigh, brushing a finger over the bridge of her nose to pinch it, before thinking better of it. They still know nightshade is poisonous. They know marigold mourns. For all of the beauty of a carnation, where pink is gratitude, yellow is rejection. They stifle a snort, coming to their own conclusion; It's definitely a perfectly concocted 'fuck you', isn't it?

Harsh. Probably on purpose. They can't fathom who he'd want to give it to, if anyone at all. Poor shopkeep. At least she looks reasonably flattered by the praise.

"Aye, we take pride in cultivatin' beauty, and your crafts're part of it. For a luckier lad or lass, howsabout white or red for the carnations, instead, to really make the rest pop?" The shopkeep tries to interject one more time, gesturing to the aforementioned flowers. "M'sure these here zinnias'd likewise make a gorgeous centerpiece!"

Their own humble arrangement sits rough-hewn in their hands, threatening to fall back apart. With that in mind, Chad interrupts her in turn; "Hey, sorry, can you help me pin the fabric in a way it'll look nicer? I want a corsage."

"Oh!" Her attention shifts; Her face doesn't quite fall, but it looks pleasantly resigned to the lesser of two evils. "Thoughtful young man, aint'cha — Tryna cheer someone up, then, I reckon? Sure, lemme help you with that."

[peerlessscowl]

There was a lot to be learned by simply listening, and letting another speak, especially one who found themselves in a situation where they tended to be silenced. Raven did not think, necessarily, that every story need to have a right party, and a wrong party - sometimes one just needed to vent the steam building up within - and especially so with something as aggravating as working labor.

The boy didn't know the job. Didn't know how old he was, but he shouldn't have needed to, either.

But every so often those little vents brought light to something more important, unearthed for a moment before discarded once more by the wave of emotion needing let out.

"You broke your nose?" Raven stopped walking then, turning just in time for the boy to bump into him.

At the question, Edmund's posture sharpened, and he attempted to skip aside and around, to continue their journey forward, but Raven's fingers snaked out and pressed against his elbow first, then the top of his head, swiveling the boy's face up to face his.

"S'nothing - !"

It wasn't. Now that he looked closer, he noticed the telltale bumps and ridges of a break that hadn't been properly set, but had nevertheless healed.

"And how did this happen?"

Edmund wriggled out of his grip then, jogging backwards a few paces to get distance between himself and Raven, shaking his head, doglike, as though to rid himself of the sensation of hands. “It’s nothing!” the boy insisted, red in the face, and too late, Raven began to put the pieces together, from the rigid set of his shoulders and the shrinking curve of his spine, to the fluctuations in his speech.

To the obsession with Raven’s sword.

He cocked his head, paused a moment. Then turned to Chad.

“Let’s turn back. I think I’ve forgotten something at the tanner’s.”

boxed at the edges

[peerlessscowl]

It was something that he hadn't noticed in its entirety until its absence, and then reappearance, had brushed against the fringes of his life - that is, that the Officer's Academy, for all its other qualities and purposes and influences on the land at large, was still a school, and it was still filled with children.

And all the bravado that came with it, the nationalism covered in a veneer of school spirit encouraging a state of constant competitiveness for all involved - to strive to be better for their house and, eventually, for their country.

He supposed that it was much the same in Elibe - their own institutions, seminaries in Etruria and their own academy in Ostia for young nobles of the Lycian League, drawing those of a kind closer together to form a united front against the other. He found that it was an odd sensation, at first to be on one side of the glass before being shunted to the opposite, to be that other - and it hadn't felt any less odd, any less stiff and sticky to his limbs to make that choice here.

He could not have claimed to have wandered the town with blue paint in hand, even when he had attended the Academy, pretense or no.

But when he no longer wore those colors, he found he could not fault the kids their play. Not really.

The job was, ostensibly, a simple one: prevent the rowdiness from edging too close into town, and catch whoever might have cause or desire to deface one of its more popular walls.

It was easier to mask one's approach when the other was occupied, and Raven watched quietly from a distance for a moment as the boy worked before he allowed the gravel to crunch underfoot.

He didn't say anything at first, not until he was certain the boy might catch him from his peripheral - and he knew that they would, perceptive like that. The silence weighed more between them now than it had previously, tethered by something they had not been aware that they shared, and it took every ounce of his self control not to rail against that connection, not to shake it off to bear the burden of his isolation alone.

Finally, he said, "Colors are good. Don't suppose you got these paints in town."

paint the town red // raven + chad

you're a kid now you're a squid now ✧ bow +1

[twistedisciple]

Steel slides out slick over a flood that turns crimson-stained cloth redder, darker, warmer, wetter with new blood before Griss realizes that he's laughing right in the kid's face. Or that the flames beneath the cauldron have started at a stray corner of his robe, licking it black. Or that he'd caught himself with one arm thrown haphazardly over the rim of the cauldron, that hot iron sears a line on the underside, or that he's plunged his hand into the scalding liquid and that when he pulls it out, it comes out clean but angry-pink.

He's always surprised at how easy it is to manipulate emotions. How all those "bonds" people like this kid think make them strong are really just big, glaring weak spots waiting to be exploited. He'd read the scriptures, he knew them like the back of his hand, but it'd been hard for him to imagine how anyone would fall prey to it. Chad isn't the first victim he'd witnessed, but it still surprises him that the knife had made its way to his shoulder, and that his ears ring with some saccharine declaration about friendship.

With the blood, a throbbing pain blooms from his shoulder. Just like always, it feels like something he's never been able to have but covets nonetheless. An addiction always demanding more.

His eyes flutter shut for a moment and he looks like he's savoring it all - the new scent of blood, his aching shoulder, the burn under his arm, the sting across his fingers.

"Mm, that feels good. Kitty's got claws after all." Slowly, he opens his eyes and smiles. "Wonder what Sophia's gonna think? I bet you made up a cute story about what I did to her, or what I might do, but here's the thing you're missing: she'd tried to heal me earlier outta the goodness of her heart. So that means we're practically friends."

Inching out from under Chad and the cauldron, he manages to get his feet back underneath him again.

"Now I've got something she can take care of, just like she wanted." A gesture at his bloody shoulder. "I bet she'll be thrilled to learn her little kitty cat did it."

Next: @mercenarymage @lycianlynx

mind spike // griss + hugh + chad

[desertslegacy]

They simultaneously relax and clench up, in a manner most familiar, and Igrene has to smile softly. Some things don't change, she supposes - or at this age, perhaps they are beginning to crack the hard facade they feel the need to put up. They had always felt the need to go above and beyond, in Roy's army, putting themselves in the line of fire for their many young comrades - even well after there were many and more adults to take the burden of responsibility from their shoulders.

She notices the flinch at her touch, that almost imperceptible streak of tension, and though she retracts her hand as they sit, she leans forward and takes their hand in hers for a moment, the warm of her embers crawling up into the hardpack earth on their palm, and she says, quietly, "I know this night is difficult, in many ways. But do not feel as though you need to look after everyone. There are many here just as capable as you who are seeking a way out."

Gently, briefly, she wraps a hand around the nape of their neck, tugging them forward so they might rest their head in the crook of her neck for just a moment.

"You need to take care of yourself if you've any chance at protecting those you love, isn't that right?" Separating, her eyes creased into a smile, and she pushes the charcuterie closer to them.

"Please. Have you any favorites? I haven't seen many of these."

[Charcuterie Board]

"And look how handsome you are." Igrene hadn't had the chance to catch up with everyone that had been in Roy's Army together, but by chance Chad happened to attend a few of her classes. They rarely stayed behind to chat, though, and she understood - they were always the quiet type, skirting about the peripheries, declining to engage.

It seemed quite the opposite now, where they emerged from the shadows and into the beautiful lights of the ball, dressed in what looked like Sacaen finery, flitting about nervously.

Igrene pressed a gentle hand to their shoulder, steering them to a seat at a nearby table, and presented them with the charcuterie board she had picked up, the variety of cheeses, meats, and finger vegetables being an acceptable substitute for a meal, for the time being.

"Have you eaten? You look close to fainting. Come, we'll share this."

Brown eyes brighten with recognition, before sharpening with — Not displeasure, not entirely, but the boy waves the compliment off with a small shake of their head, a tired scoff tugging at their lips.

"Miss Igrene," Chad replies, mildly, trying to skip over the compliment stage as quickly as possible (and looking just that bit closer to fainting from embarrassment alone); "Or, um, is it still Professor? That's a lovely dress."

They're not sure how to continue; They hadn't planned that far ahead, and it occurs to them that maybe they should've just... Properly said hello to her earlier. Luckily, Igrene has more reason to talk to them than just compliments, and it's a relief when she lets the deflection roll over, even for just a moment.

So it is that they're too done with this entire ordeal to brook complaint when she rests a hand on their shoulder with intent to guide, though they can't help the instinctual tense; Two less layers to guard their shoulder, making the weight of her hand feel almost branding in its familiarity. The seat offered is eagerly taken, if only to escape it (Saints forbid they start missing it, that'd just be sad), before —

Oh. A hard blink as Chad tries to recall the last time they filched something substantial from the table, but bar the sweet buns from earlier, they come up blank. The night's been too long for their liking already, and the constant surveillance making it a fucking struggle to do anything and really enjoy it... Damn, just being reminded of it makes them want to crawl under the table and make sure noone ever finds them again.

Undignified, yeah. Pathetic, hell yeah. But. Man. They slump subconsciously as they regard the charcuterie board, before their eyes flicker, just briefly, up to their elemental overlords, before landing back on Igrene again.

"I — No, it's been a bit, yeah. Thanks." Chad straightens up a touch, plucks one of the little forks for the food up and hands it to her, their own fork finding their other hand. "If you don't mind. Sharing, that is."

A pause as they stick a grape, pick it up. "It's good to see you, by the way. Thanks again."

[allegreta]

Leanne is not opposed to the idea of hunting. The natural order is something all dwellers of the forest are a part of, and how the world continues its cycle of balance and rebirth. But she herself does not wish to participate in such things, and especially not in such a way that she feels is a disruption of the food chain!

Thankfully, it seems as if her companion for this assignment feels similarly; she is not necessarily an advocate for skipping out on school, but perhaps they can sadly be unable to find a bear and come home empty-handed, or with more appropriate ingredients. Yes, this is a good plan indeed.

“I think perhaps, we can spend some time here in the forest. We can look for a bear, sadly be unable to find it, and come home without it.” Oh, but it is exciting, to propose this to someone she has just met! Chad is not Reyson (she is briefly struck with memories of swapping places, of skipping study sessions and playing in the woods), but they seem like they would be amicable to this plan. “I know these woods quite well, for the time I’ve been here. There should be harvestable berries, and small game if we do wish to hunt that would be suitable and not disrupt the balance of things.”

Leanne herself is no hunter, and meat does not suit a heron’s constitution, but to take life from the forest is not sacrilege. It is the order of things, how living beings’ energy moves from one to another.

Technically, hunting just one bear would be alright, probably. But she does not wish to do that.

“Chad, was it? It is nice to meet you, though I do wish the circumstances were a little less stressful.” Leanne smiles fondly. Something about them reminds her of little Sothe, who is now bigger Sothe. Beorc grow so fast! “I will admit, I am not particularly suited to hunting, or physical conflict in general…I do have a connection with the forest, but to use it to gain advantage is not something I would like to do.” 

just grin and bear it a while // leanne + chad

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]

starter for @allegreta

As stressful as the entire imposter situation is, culture spreading from other countries is… Nice. Food’s always a delight to share, after all, different spices and palates and inclinations anywhere between tasty with its novelties or just plain fascinating. Chad’s seen a lot of it from his time traveling with Master Roy’s army; Lycian, Sacaen, Etrurian, even Bernese cuisine (though all of them mostly on the simpler end), more beyond, depending on who was on kitchen duty… It’s not a bad way to get to know a place, really. He likes stopping by the Cooking Club every so often — Helping out with foraging, or grocery runs, and so on. The whole business reminds him, just a bit, of normalcy, staves off whatever homesickness might kindle a bit too brightly.

This is… A little bit closer to the ‘fascinating’ end of that spectrum. Bear meat’s already a bit of a novelty (though, hell, people do tend to eat weird stuff on hard times, a bear could feed a family, easy), but. Um. Hunting is a bit far out of the realm of groceries, or drawing water, or, or, or…

Still, they were entrusted with this task, and it’s up to them to see this through… The Cooking Club trusts them, and they shouldn’t betray that trust, it’s not in their nature…

Oh, forget that for a godsdamned second. Really!? Hunt a fucking BEAR?!?! They’re a thief, not a warrior, they work with daggers more than they do swords, they can’t even in good conscience try and poison it because bears are huge and then the meat’ll go bad and to waste and and and and—!

Chad bites back a loud huff, their brow instead furrowing further as they step over a branch, keeping their footfalls silent, even if they’re not actively tracking the bear yet. At least the girl he’s partnered with for this stupid errand looks just as miserable as he does; Honestly, he knows appearances can be deceiving (and no offense to the girl, she’s very pretty (though the wings and the shifting briefly made him doubt he’s awake)), but there’s no way people can look at the two of them and trust they can take down a bear easily, right? Right???

“Sorry, but. Do… Do we really have to do this?” They ask, crouching to investigate a set of tracks; Far too small to belong to anything like a bear. Passing over it, they eye the treeline warily. “Forget about dragging the bear back, can we even find and kill one in the first place…?”

[peerlessscowl]

He didn't want to say the right words with any flowers – he didn't want to say anything, to anyone. Even the clipped sigh he let out as the flowers, and ribbons, and other accoutrement are all laid out before them, it held little enough bite that the young woman scarce noticed, or at most attributed his discomfort with some romantic awkwardness. 

But Raven was used to bearing the brunt of another's expectations, and for all his frustration at the current situation, it was easiest to simply play ball. 

He restrained the smirk as the shopkeep's daughter frowned at his hands, straying still toward a stem of foxglove and an immaculate tiger lily. He didn't have to let her have all of the control. 

She seemed to chew on a thought for a moment before breaking into a smile, ever the entrepreneuring spirit. "Well, y'seem to have made yer choices – er. Let's get 'em together! Wouldja like to make a corsage, a boutonniere, or a bouquet?" 

Her subtle way of asking who he wanted to present to, no doubt. Carefully, Raven ignored the question, and plucked a ribbon – deepest violet, and shimmering inky in the winter sun – and began to weave the blooms together, adding small sprigs of marigold to fill out some space, and he disguised a snort as a sneeze at the drop in her expression when his fingers found a yellow carnation to slide into the center. 

When he was done, all told the thing didn't look too bad – singular flowers spiraling neatly about each other, and wound tightly with the ribbon. He was out of practice, having not touched the practice in over a decade, but it might have passed, might have been something a man might have seen in the window of a florist, grabbed last moment for his lady love – had it not been for the egregious disharmony of the flower's meaning. 

He displayed it to Chad with a flourish. "What do you think? It, ah. The colors harmonize nicely, don't they?" Shifting his gaze to the shopkeep, he added, "Any would be lucky to receive such a bouquet. The flowers are...well cared for." 

last episode on "how do i say 'fuck you' in flower"...

Raymond goes without resistance. It makes Chad feel just a tiny bit worse as his face begins to actively look like he'd already received and then eaten his own order of flowers, bitter petals and all. Sliding into their seat, Chad fights with whether or not to look at Raymond again as the shopkeep gets them properly arranged for arrangements and leaves.

They're not sure they know what a 'romance humor' is, if it's a real term or just some expression; This situation does feel like a huge joke, though. Their head wilts further in the light of the daughter's sunshine grin, an elbow propping up at the table, a hand to shield the eyes, rub temple and forehead until she claps for attention, brown eyes now following the crafting paraphrenalia she's introducing to the pack — She's obviously taking their muted displeasure as flustered bravado in the one instance it's definitely not flustered bravado.

"They're not for anyone," they still grumble, which the daughter soundly ignores with a doubtful chuckle, before she goes about Raymond's flowers.

Their picks are off, though, both of theirs. The boy knows foxglove is poisonous, and they know all too well that marigolds are a flower of mourning, so there's a degree of comedy of seeing the shopkeep's smile falter a little more with every new flower combination Raymond suggests, even if they're not familiar with the meaning of tiger lilies.

... Heh. What was the word? Malicious compliance? Chad huffs a silent half-laugh as soon as the shopkeep's out of earshot, before reaching for a stray sprig of lily-of-the-valley — Definitely not a match for marigold, albeit maybe foxglove for a caustic bouquet, twirling it between gloved fingers, careful not to bruise the stem.

It's not long before the shopkeep's daughter returns with nothing short of an explosion of flowers carefully balanced in her arms — They can only really identify the carnations, carmellias and roses, but it's a good balance between whites and pinks for a purple, redder purples and sunshine tones for a yellow-orange-red. They could put together a visually appealing bouquet with this, if they wanted to.

They still don't particularly want to, even when the bright red hues draw their eye but briefly. As she lays the flowers out, she catches sight of the little white flowers Chad's toying with — And he catches them flicker away just as quickly with a twitch of her brow — But her cheer is back full force not a moment later, clapping her hands together again.

"A'ight you two! I've got a nice, handsome bunch t'compliment handsome boys like you, along with the flowers y'favor — We'll whip up somethin' gorgeous, make sure you say all the right words with yer bunches of blooms, aye?"

[peerlessscowl]

The reprieve from the attention, however brief, wasn't necessarily needed, but Raven could see how much it cost Chad to take the spotlight – and, if anything, it shed a little light on their charge. The energy had drained from the kid immediately, and the question seemed to cast a pall on every step he took thereafter. 

Raven's eyes narrowed. "Keep up, we're almost there. You don't like it much, then?" 

Not that he could necessarily blame the boy, if this was the case – tanneries were rough work, and Raven sincerely hoped that it was merely the smell that Edmund protested to. 

The boy shrugged, not meeting his eyes for a beat. Then, his nose wrinkled, and he wiped his hands, seemingly unconsciously, a nervous tic, against the front of his tunic. "I don't like Vincent. He's loud." 

"The owner?" Raven didn't know any of the other employed at the tanner's, but hedged a guess – having never worked a labor position, but knowing what they involved, it seemed likely that a child might not understand what was needed to keep a service like that running, or might not care. And it seemed likely that a stressed adult might be less inclined to have patience for a child that wasn't theirs. 

Edmund shook his head, jogged a few steps forward to kick a stone on the path. The stone skittered to a halt just before Chad's feet, and Edmund stuck his tongue out at it, before resuming his pace ahead of them. "His son. S'posed to take it over when his dad dies. He's a jerk," he added, softer. 

boxed at the edges