#ladamedepique

[venalier]

TO SHATTER A HART. — ♡

          they say that, centuries ago, this ground had been watered with historic blood. forced to march alongside the rest of the camp ( but are they soldiers or prisoners? or sacrifices? what is their place in this strange war they’d been thrust into without context or the chance to regain their bearings? ), she’s given just enough time to mull over what might await them and take in the daunting unknown that lay as interminable and inevitable as the endless stretch of deceptively picturesque fields. since they’d woken up on this foreign ground, it’s been nothing but struggle after struggle — first the inexplicable illness that had gripped half their lot and vanished with equally little explanation, then to be rounded up and walked into the encampment as ‘ guests ’, though she knew better than that. the skirmish that had suddenly broken out, the lives that had been taken — and restored?

          now this: the solemn line of demoralized yellow marching in grim silence; she’s been in an army before, but it wasn’t anything like this. ( she’d been among comrades, at least friendly faces. ) why are they here to fight an empire none of them have a quarrel with? if, as the shared dreams imply, they had been sent here for a reason, then why isn’t anything coming together at all?

                                maybe her biggest fear in all of this,                        is that they’ll just die here, for a cause none of them agreed to,                                                  and everything— it’ll all be for nothing.

          now this: a disturbance in the ranks near the front; she grabs her naginata on instinct, anticipating an ambush. already? men shout; shouts turn to screams; the formation dismantles and soldiers start to break away; she catches one’s panicked face as he shoves her aside to escape. are they so weak-willed—

          now this: no, not weak-willed, because the sight that greets them isn’t the sea of adrestian and armor-clad red that they’d expected to be waiting for them, but something grotesque: a swelling mass that gurgles and snarls as it rapidly grows. one of their own? she spots the last tatters of gold and black before they are swallowed into a pattern of camouflage hide as would be found on the coat of a hind. it’s familiar dark curls, then, that twist and harden and elongate into ten, twelve, twenty point antlers of branching, macabre black, when she realizes the chilling truth;

                                       now this: ❝ ... claude? ❞

          it takes shape before all of their eyes: a monstrously large stag ( just like the visions! ) that would be only that if not for when it turns its face towards them to reveal a nightmarish chimera of human and cervid and rows of demonic teeth. but it’s the gleeful malice frozen in bloodshot eyes that she thinks she’ll never forget.

          teeth chattering, she wills herself to push past the shock, to pull her weapon from her back and into her hands. don’t shake. shigure and a few others she knows are nearby; they'd faced horror together before. and they’d made it out then. ❝ if the others won’t fight— ❞ palms cinch firm around polished wood, ❝ —then we’ll have to. ❞ more and more of the so-called alliance army scatters around them; is this what that prophetic voice had been leading them to? are they the only ones willing to stand their ground in the end?

          the stag rears — ❝ don’t let it escape! ❞ — and she charges;

caeldori misses! ( 4 )

          blade raised and legs crouched, ready to leap and bring a first shattering blow down on the distortion’s broad shoulders and give her allies an opening. but she never gets off the ground, doesn’t expect magic,

cervid husk attacks! ( 14 )

          for forelegs to gash at the air and a burst of wind to knock her solidly backwards, eyes squeezed shut and tumbling painfully through the grass, only years of training keeping her from losing her weapon in the process. when she slows, a sharp twinge from her torso suggests she’d bruised or torn something, maybe, in that poorly timed attempt. ugh, embarrassing. she’s supposed to be better than this. butt of the pole to the ground, she pushes to her feet, steadies herself. a monster that big would be tough to fight on foot. just her luck, to end up in a clash like this for her life without a pegasus.

next » @ceaselessblade

[jehannandancer]

» i said brrr

non-mission task board: By mid-winter, the students at the academy are getting restless from being cooped inside for so long. The remaining faculty have decided to spice up the monotony by employing a few of the students to help them chip blocks of ice out of the pond. But there’s a twist: one participant will stand in the middle of the pond and work toward the outer edges while their partner works on the outside. Plan your blocks strategically so that the ice doesn’t give out and your partner plunges into frigid water. Didn’t expect a trust-building exercise, did you? [Grants Authority +1] 

As someone that grew up in the desert, the cold of winter is both a welcomed changed and a nuisance. She’s so used to the freedom of movement from her usual garbs, but if she does so now, especially when outside, she’d turn into a popsicle.

“Are you quite alright over there?” Tethys calls out to her partner in middle of the pond, hoping they’re not too careless. They’ve been at it for a while, and she’s safely by the edges, even she feels nervous as she chips through the ice. “Perhaps it’s time for a short break, would you like to--”

It was faint, but she definitely heard it, a crack of a whip in the near distance. She grows wary and takes a quick look around, searching for the source but falls short, too late to notice the cracks that have formed all around the pond. They were so small, but with enough cracks, the whole thing crumbles, and Tethys watches in horror as her partners soon falls from where they’re standing. 

She drops what she’s carrying and makes a run for it, hoping to reach them in time and assist, only to hear that sound again, only this time, it was much louder, nearer... And as she took another step forward, Tethys feels the ground beneath her fall, foot plunging down first, followed by the rest of her as she’s immediately greeted by the freezing waters. “--!!”

[minorindech]

(A kiss?) "Well, well... Aren't you just a darling little thing, though?" Almost too cute for such a rowdy game. Camilla supposed that had never stopped the more adventurous of their cohort from partaking. With a giggle, she leaned into the booth, planting a kiss of her own onto the crown of the girl's own purple tresses. "There."

Bernadetta’s still riding the high of proving Linhardt wrong for once that she doesn’t notice the next person until she’s practically standing right in front of her. The realization makes Bernie jump and curse herself quietly, because of course she would let one thing going right distract her so much oh goddess Bernie you can be such a stupid fool.

“H-hello, I, um...”

Oh...Oh wow she’s tall. 

Bernie is very certain that she’s gawking at the woman in front of her, but can she really be blamed for that? She’s tall and pretty and Bernie is doing her best to respectfully avoid the obvious right in front of her and she’s kind of intimidating in a way that reminds her of Lady Edelgard and she isn’t really doing anything beyond standing there but Bernadetta knows deep in her soul that this woman could probably destroy her with her pinkie and there’s a weird kind of terrifying respect to that.

Bernie practically shrieks when she leans down and kisses the top of her head, so caught off guard by the action. She splutters, hands flying up to cover her head as she tries to string a thought together.

“I...you...that isn’t...I mean you can but you’re not...I’m supposed to!” Bernie lets out a strangled wail buries her face in her hoodie. She was red again, she knew it... “I’m supposed to be the one kissing you.” She whines into the fabric.

She’s managed to recover herself just a bit when she finally pulls her face back out, pouting slightly as she gestures nervously at her classmate. “Um. Could you just...lean down a little, please?”

[xkanjou]

⊱ familiar faces

@ladamedepique

Midnight.

She stirs in bed, eyes slowly blinking open as her consciousness trickles back in. The full moon pales above the monastery illuminating her grounds with a white sheet of light.

It took a minute but Beruka was now sitting upright, dull eyes gazing out the window towards the moon. Judging by its position it had been approximately 2 hours since she had fallen asleep. Beruka shuffled herself to sit on the edge of her mattress, tightly lacing up her boots before standing to grab her cloak propped by her bed. In one swift motion she wrapped the cloak around herself, buttoning up the front so that it wouldn’t slip off as she walked. 

She lifted her pillow revealing a sleek silver dagger, it’s leather hilt worn from constant use. Out of habit she grabbed the weapon and sheathed it in a hidden pocket by her side. There was no reason for her to carry a weapon, at least not while she was on monastery grounds. But old habits were hard to kill. 

Once she confirmed she had everything she made her way out the door, making sure it shut behind her with a silent click before heading down the hallway towards the commons. 

Despite only having had 2 hours of sleep the young woman found herself wide awake, her legs moving as fast as they could towards the common area. As an assassin she was used to having to work under lack of sleep, her longest going 80 hours without rest. 

Even if she were tired her drive to confirm this suspicion would not allow her. It was for a brief moment in the afternoon, a familiar figured spotted just near the monastery gates before disappearing behind a pillar. Had it been seen by anyone but herself she would have thought them to be hallucinating. 

But Beruka trusted her eyes. How could she have survived until now had she doubted them?

If her suspicions were correct, the figure she saw earlier today should be awake by this time, sitting in a warmly lit area doing whatever it was that pleased her at that time of night. The only place Beruka could think of that matched this description off the top of her head was the commons area. 

Swiftly turning the next corner she found herself at the back of the commons room, its current occupant a lone woman whose back was faced towards the assassin.

“...Lady Camilla?”

[forlornwyvernrider]

» black to black

starter for : @ladamedepique​

Gerome, as he usually does, was at the stables for the wyverns. He was about to clean Minerva when he catches sight of a new wyvern in the stables. Normally, he only had his eyes for Minerva, but this one in particular was... odd. They were seated in a way that would hurt anyone’s limbs, and while wyverns were flexible and durable... that just didn’t seem right.

What kind of Wyvern Rider did this one have?! Surely, those practices were wrong? Even looking at it was mortifying.

While Gerome admits there is a wonderful shine on their scales, it does not compare to Minerva’s. Hers has an uncontested luster, even during the times they were caught up in the war, now even more so. And compared to this... this mess, Minerva was more well-behaved and not... lounging around like some pretzel!

“Look away, Minervykins. Don’t let yourself be tainted by this strange one!” Gerome frantically attempts to keep Minerva’s eyes away, blocking her field of vision with his body but he can only cover so much. As if to tease, or perhaps truly influenced, Minerva gets up and starts moving, wings flapped once as she gets, legs moving as if figuring out how to mimic the other wyvern.

“M-minerva!” Gerome was horrified, but he can’t exactly stop her. So he turns around, declaring the horrible influence as an enemy to conquer for today. “You... this is your doing. I do not know where you hail from or what techniques they have thought you, but you will stop that right now.” He declares as he starts moving closer to the other wyvern with every intent of giving them a stern lecture.

[rivclry]

♤ ; a new challenger approaches!

@ladamedepique

It was a nice day at the monastery - clear skies, soft breeze, a little chilly but it was winter so that was to be expected. Gloved hands hugged her body as she strolled through the monastery making her way to the training grounds. It had been a couple of days since her last training session. The events of the festival had been taking up most of her time these days and she could already feel her body become sluggish seeing as she struggled to run up a hill just yesterday.

Loud noises coming from the training grounds caught her ears, perking up as the noises continued to grow in number. Was someone at the training grounds already?

Leonie approached the large wooden doors and pulled gently, careful not to make any noise so as to not alert the person inside. Once the opening was large enough she squeezed her body in and shut the door behind her before facing the source of all the thuds.

She had never seen this person around the monastery before - was she perhaps a transfer? Based on some of her more prominent features she seemed like the person some of the students had been gossiping about. The rumours were split half and half. Some claimed that she was a terrifying beast with the strength of a monster. Others said, well, things that would be deemed inappropriate in the eyes of the church. 

Leonie however couldn’t help her fascination with the figure before her. Any preconceptions she had immediately dissipated as she watched the student swing her axe in succession. You didn’t need to be an axe-wielder to know that these weapons were generally heavy and hard to maneuver. But by watching this person swing their axe the thought would have never crossed your mind. The way she seemed to make everything look effortless fascinated the young mercenary-to-be. There wasn’t a single wasted movement despite her speed - this woman was clearly an experienced fighter.

Leonie stripped off her gloves and rolled up her sleeves, stepping off to the side to grab herself a training lance. Once the lady was done swinging her axe Leonie approached with her lance in hand and a smile on her face.

“You don’t seem the type to be satisfied just swinging an axe all day. How about sparring me instead?” Leonie extended a hand. “The name’s Leonie! It’s a pleasure to meet ya!”

[herrings]

Truth be told, she couldn't find a pie in that moment. But that was fine--someone left out a convenient plate of teacakes, and in a pinch, Camilla didn't think anyone would fault her for a little bit of creativity and innovation. They were even drenched in frosting. So when the next person came around the corner, it was their sheer bad luck that Camilla had been armed and ready... It wasn't until after she had thrown them at Linhardt that Camilla wondered why they were blue.

oh, the gods. he’s dropped his dormitory keys somewhere.

salvation has yet to greet linhardt as he continues to roam outside. he doesn’t know where his keys are and, even worse, he didn’t even remember locking his door. the young adrestian heir searches about in the clearing of the courtyard--

terrible mistake.

[linhardt rolls to dodge: 12! fail! average hit!]

he shouldn’t have turned the corner, not when there was guerrilla warfare on monastery grounds. he blinks, only seeing tresses of lavender, before he’s bombarded with… tea cakes? having only shielded himself with his arm, he waits until the thuds stop. he identifies the projectiles when he lowers his defense and sees the confections littered on the ground in their magnificent, cerulean hues--

cerulean hues.

memories flashback instantly in linhardt as he continues to stare at the fallen tea cakes-- he’s only awakened from his terrible recalling when he feels another slap his cheek. hesitantly, the heir lifts his fingers to brush against supple skin. sure enough, when he draws his fingers away, it remains.

the stain. linhardt stares at his fingers, at the vibrant shade of blue, until an idea strikes him.

clearly, he can’t avoid the assault of confectionery. therefore, perhaps he should shake things up a bit.

after all, if war were to be inevitable, then it better be a great one.

[dearmissmaribelle]

𝒶 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓇𝑜𝓎𝒶𝓁𝓉𝑒𝒶（ 𝕥𝕖𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 ）

（ @ladamedepique​ ）

     To share tea with a woman of fine breeding such as the Nohrian Princess was an honor Maribelle cannot pass up. An invite was quickly sent and so begins the Ylissean noble’s long morning spent on choosing a blend to serve. Should she go for something sweet? More foreign? Citrusy? In the end she opts for something closer to Garreg Mach. A strong spicy blend and simple icebox cookies for the perfect contrast-- yes, this would do.

     ❝ This particular brew was inspired by the Four Saints that fought along Seiros during the War of Heroes. Statues may represent them better, however there’s something more romantic about remembering them by with the perfect blend. ❞ She takes a small sip, the taste of cinnamon the first to register. The kick comes after and Maribelle lets out a quiet ‘ooh’.

     ❝ My. I was never one for cinnamon, but I have no complaints on this one. It was recommended with red peppercorn but a star anise fits the bill. ❞ Maribelle puts down the cup and smiles to her companion, ❝ And what of you, Lady Camilla? Is it to your liking? ❞

[maesterofmagic]

"No hard feelings, truly." Mae was just in the wrong place at the wrong time... And Camilla had found herself in possession of a lovely cherry pie. Idly, Camilla paused to consider that the shade of the filling quite complemented the vivid pink hue of her hair. Ah well. Camilla lobbed he pie at her; the only way to tell, really.

Her head whips around when she hears a voice. Her eyes widen as the pie comes hurling her way. Instincts kick in and quickly, she steps out of the way, dodging the cherry bomb. 

“None taken!” Mae waves at her opponent. And she runs off to deliver one of her own.

[boundlesshart]

"Why, hello hello, Claude!" He looked like shit. Camilla pat his shoulder with what she hoped was sympathy, and that the motion wouldn't upset... Whatever it was. It didn't take more than vague acquaintanceship to eke out a little empathy. "Glad to see you're still alive, dear. I have to be off soon again, but I thought I'd run something by you... There's a battle up coming. Apparently, one of the forces is led by a 'Duke Riegan'... And that can't be you, now can it. Thoughts, dear?"

Claude flinches, surprised when someone touches his shoulder. He looks over his shoulder, up at Camilla, and glances between her face and her hand on him. Claude lets out a short puff of laughter, What a weird question. “If just showing up was all I needed to do to get an army, then yeah, it could be me,” he answers slyly. He turns his eyes back to what he was doing, but the question still rings in his head.

“...My grandfather’s too old to command an army,” Claude answers, mostly just voicing his thoughts out loud. “There are offshoots of House Riegan, but the rest of the Roundtable would shut them out if they tried to claim Riegan territory for themselves. As far as people who can legitimately claim to be Duke Riegan go, it’d have to either be my grandfather... or myself.”

Claude pauses. “But... that doesn’t really make any sense. My grandfather would never travel out of Riegan territory. And I’ve been–” A shaky breath–Claude pulls his yellow cape over his mouth, wheezing through a coughing fit. “I’ve–I’ve just been here. I arrived with you guys. So it couldn’t h... have... have been me either...”

[keen-kin]

(waterwall) Her basket was running low - so low, that only two orange-sized, orange balloons remained at the bottom. Camilla would have to make them count; it would be a dangerous trek back out onto the open sands to scavenge for more ammunition, after all. The girl that passes by would have to do, even if she seemed -speedier- than the ideal target should be. Camilla tried to keep quiet. The two balloons were lobbed in short succession, and she ducked out of the way.

Having spotted her next target, Larcei was sprinting across the beach, not paying attention to her surroundings. She hadn’t seen Camilla at all. 

Roll - 10 (barely hit) 

Suddenly, Larcei felt a splash at her feet. Turning to look, she saw a second balloon, and blocked it with her arm. The few water droplets that hit her were refreshing in the hot summer’s day, and Larcei couldn’t help but laugh, looking for the person who’d attacked her. She thought she caught a glimpse of purple hair ducking behind a rock, though it could just as easily have been her mind playing tricks on her. 

“Better luck next time!” She yelled to the seemingly empty beach, hoping that whoever it was heard her. This was fun. She turned away again to pursue her previous target, only to realise that he’d managed to hide whilst she was distracted. If this was a team effort, it was a clever one. If it wasn’t, he’d gotten lucky. For now.

[venalier]

STRENGTH UPRIGHT. — ♡

@ladamedepique

cont. from here.

          something dull and gnarled turns itself inside her when she looks at the nohrian princess, like a sleeping shard that’d stayed lodged somewhere deep for years, overlooked and quiet, until some external force shifted it and only then did it press and cut like glass. it’s a shard she’s familiar with, carried usually in the eyes of others, in the distance between herself and those who always say they admire her, in the gulf chiseled out by human hands that stays behind in the wake of another someone. she doesn’t like to admit to it, not within herself. ( a fragmented reminder that she is not so perfect after all, has never been, will never be; and maybe if she others anyone could see it— )

          ❝ huh? ❞ ————— amethysts hold her, rich like maroon gemstones.                                              she shifts uncomfortably. ❝ oh, sure. ❞

          princess camilla isn’t really like most people she met during the war. there’s something unsettling about her, but she’s never been able to put her finger on it, either. mother always told her not to worry about it ( in her more honest moments, even once said lady camilla really was kind, more than most people she’d ever met ), but as footsteps cross the dressing room and bring her close, she can’t shake the impending feeling of walking into a set of fangs.

          in a way, she has to just be impressed.

          full lavender tresses lift out of the way, and she pulls the ends of the swimsuit close together; they cinch over an ample bust, wide frame, fearlessly thick skin. everything about lady camilla is strong, it strikes her as she does up the fastenings, double-checking to make sure they’ll hold. she can’t imagine what kind of force it would take to knock her over, if anything at all. ❝ there, that should do it. ❞ hands release, and she steps back, gaze then shifting to the jagged line of a mending scar, the edge of which is just barely visible from behind, that threads over and up the other woman’s side. thin lips purse in a frown at the sight of it, fighting the answering pang of a ghostly pain that jabs, a dozen spear points pushing into her chest, cracking ribs like no more than slender twigs. but she’s looked before already — and there’s nothing there.

          ❝ ... that looks like a pretty bad injury, ❞ she ventures, unsure why it fills her with such curiosity. it’s not like she’s never seen a battle scar before, even a severe one. ❝ is it recent? ❞

[wolfhednn]

🌱 = a plot I want to write with you [sprawls in your inbox]

munday symbols

🌱 : a plot I want to write with you

does it count if specific things are hard to think of except just All The Plots because i officially stan your camilla? :sobbing:

well we’ve got the kurth/camilla development going, and i think that could have some promising things to explore if they end up getting along. i’d really like to see you explore like camilla’s feelings about family and get into the depth of her emotions re: her siblings, parents, the kind of family / court situation she grew up in and the expectations placed on her and which she put on herself.

given that kurth also has a lot of plot points to explore wrt his own familial relationships, it could be interesting common ground for them.

of course that kind of means they’d have to develop enough rapport for that haha and camilla would probably have to find out who / what he is somehow... however that happens.

( errant thought: if camilla met felix would he remind her of leo.................... i’m kind of entertained bc felix has never really had strong maternal figures in his life since his mom died when he was young and i’m like. i don’t know if he’d know how to react to that. )

i only talked about camilla bc that’s the blog you sent it to me from HAHAHA but the continuation of felix and pent would be good. we’ll still have to cover pent helping felix relearn how to cast, whenever we get around to that. i’m still sad we can’t really have rodrigue and pent really interact.................... :pensive:

but i think it would be neat to see if pent and felix end up having a sort of something adjacent to felix’s support with seteth? obviously it’d depend on how they continue interacting going forward, but i think pent’s in a good position to help felix mature in his approaches towards people a bit more, while also kind of learning about what he went through. i think he’s in a position to see felix’s family history in a unique light, given that he’s a dad himself with a healthy nuclear family, and i’d be interested to see pent’s thoughts on felix’s upbringing and relationships.

[heartstringbound]

💬 [Rumour has it she's sampled everything in the green house... and lived to tell the tale. A spicy, death plant charcuterie, if you would.]

“No...no, I’m pretty sure I haven’t done that one.”

She’d thought about it. Plants were for eating most of the time, right? Or healing. If you ate a plant that was meant for healing and you weren’t sick, would it make you extra strong? Or would it just make you sick? She wasn’t sure about that one.

“I don’t think Lady Hinoka would be very happy with me if people complained about something like that. And the last time I tried to eat a plant, that one Eagles student told me I would die.”

...she was still pretty sure if you put magic in the plant and ate it, the magic would still work.

[progenitorheart]

She doesn't know -this- one. But that worked out; after all, there wasn't even a bridge there to burn yet. Perched up in the rafters, a whole pie was too unwieldy to carry, so instead, Camilla procured a pair of fruit tarts. What were tarts but smaller pies, honestly. And off the pair went, slung at the back of his head.

Result: Total miss!

Ah, more ammunition for him to take. Byleth bends over to retrieve a half-loaf of stale bread from the dining hall’s floor, which ends up saving him as a pair of fruit tarts sail over his head to bounce against the stone twice before laying motionless. He picks those up as well, then glances toward the ceiling to see a woman with long purple tresses hiding among the rafters; merely offers a wave of his hand before he goes off to resume throwing things at people.

[darklingdragon]

[Villain HCs] MOTHER GOTHEL - Would your muse want to live forever? Why or why not?

villain hcs

also asked by @celestialbloom !!

This is shaped by the fact that she absolutely thinks that she will. That isn’t the truth, since not even manakete are immortal, but the idea of continuing to live the way she does is absolutely terrifying and she would sacrifice whatever it took to change that about herself, despite knowing she cannot. She’d even prefer if she looked her age, though that might have other bad side effects...

One of the things that scares her most is that most things do not have the same longevity as she does. Myrrh herself is older than the kingdoms of Magvel. Just judging off of looks alone, Morva would have to be at least double her age at the time he was killed. In the perspective of the countries themselves, she has already lived past a forever. Having to see the weight of countless more rises and falls than she already will and has would be more heartbreak than she could handle. 

The other factor is people. More than half her life has been spent with very few interactions outside her father, and maybe a few manakete that might also have lived in the woods, and the elders of Caer Pelyn. But the change in that revealed that she wants to be around other people and wants companionship. That sort of thing would already be hard because of her lifespan, so living forever would mean that even if she found a companion of the same ilk, she would even have to watch them die. 

Being alone for the rest of her life is enough reason to despise that idea.