#thyrosus

[atypicalsenerio]

Blast From the Past [Team Archive]

TOA Electric Sheep thread continued from here

“Ah...” Shaken by these events, Pia can’t help but sit down when Lorenz pushes her into the chair. It hurts so much, she’s never been shot before. Panic runs amok through her mind—why is this happening? Does the military want the Schwartzes that much? That they’re willing to kill for it?

Pia looks to the Verne archivists, an innocent party in all of this, here because they volunteered their time and expertise. And then to the AIWOU unit behind them, unmoving in spite of the commotion. Rex... no, L-431475... she can’t imagine how he is processing this. He would return to his original mission, but to turn against his creators...

“No. I must do this.” Tears streaming down her cheeks, Pia pushes herself up again, returning to the terminal. Her good arm pulls out a drawer, searching for a portable terminal. They can take the Schwartzes and flee. They might not have a chance alone, but with him...

On the computer, she pulls up a new window. Assign Administrative Access. Plugging the portable terminal into the computer, Pia shouts back at the others, “Bring me Rex! I must do this!”

Soren picked up Rex and approached Pia, holding the metal dog close, as if it was real. "Inactive, hm? You'd better explain why he moves when we aren't here, and why you lied to us about it." He held Rex out to her, but stayed close enough to snatch the dog away if she posed a threat.

"I couldn't tell you." But the jig is up, and there's no time for any of this. Pia sighs.

 "Yes, there is an AI in there. But he was there before the virus manifested," Pia adds defensively. "This is L-431A75. Esteemed archivists such as yourself should know the historical significance of Laelaps."

“Now give him to me. Please!”

As important as that name should be to them, it doesn’t ring any bells. Soren acts curiously surprised, wary of blowing their cover even though they were likely to part ways imminently by the way Pia hurried.

"Laelaps?" He handed Rex over, watching her closely still. "He'd better be useful."

For the first time, you see the AIWOU's camera eyes look directly at you. Seems like you've offended him.

Soren folded his arms, used to dealing with a stubborn dog. “Don’t give me that. The only trick I’ve seen you do is ‘play dead.’”

"He will," Pia promises, snatching the AIWOU out of Soren's hands. She pulls out cables from the drawer, wincing through the pain as she connects L-431475 to her computer.

"A portable terminal." She hands him a large, somewhat-heavy metal box with a keyboard on it. "And a universal adapter designed for AI transference." Yet another cable, shoved into Soren's hands. "Get yourselves into the Schwartzes and flee as far as you can. So long as you're in those mechs, you'll be safe in there. And, if worse comes to worse, those Schwartzes still have their AI compatibility intact. Laelaps will be able to fight for you."

A message already appears on the portable terminal:

[L-431475] This will be difficult in my current form. [L-431475] But if you lend me your aid, I promise that I will protect you.

“Alright. We don’t have a lot of options, and Pia has confidence in you.” Soren adjusted his grip for a more comfortable hold on the cable and portable terminal (Lae-Laptop?) and looked to Pia. “You coming?”

If she wanted to go out with some heroic sacrifice, he wouldn’t stop her. In fact, he didn’t much want to trust the AI she’d given them either, but if this Laelaps could save their lives, that was all he cared about. It wouldn’t make sense for Laelaps to not fight alongside them for his own self preservation considering it coincided with their own.

By the high alert status of the building, they didn’t have seconds to waste.

@thyrosus @ashenprofessor @arcstral

[boundlesshart]

you dropped this, king 👑

playing hot potato with @thyrosus​ but the potato is leicester’s future

The meeting blows almost two hours past its allotted time.

There’s a part of him that wishes he could pin the blame on Gloucester and Edmund, how they always have something to say, an opinion to push forward, some lasting remark they want to linger in everyone’s minds. They were the same as always. It’s Claude that needed to adapt to the situation, take charge of his discussion, direct the conversation. But he couldn’t. Not when the discussion was on how exactly inheritance would work for a Federation’s king; every suggestion worse than the last, more deadly than the last, and all Claude could see in their ideas was blood and ‘rivals’ strangled in their cribs.

“Let’s pick up this discussion tomorrow.” Claude stands. They stand, bow, leave. And as they leave, he’s left shaky and weak-kneed. Adrenaline abandons him as soon as the meetings end, leaving him a shell of the brilliant leader in that room, empty, inept. Claude didn’t handle it well. Judith will tell him as much when she has the chance. A petulant thought crosses his mind, she wouldn’t understand. 

Four months later, the desperation in Shahid’s eyes still haunt him, the bits of blood and hair that clung to the cliffside where he fell. 

Four months later, Claude still wonders if some part of him tumbled off the cliff after his brother, still clinging to him as their bodies shatter against the rocks.

-----

On a horse, Claude feels more like himself than he has been lately. Not a duke or a king or a leader, just a man recklessly galloping through the grasslands of Riegan territory, leaving his partner in the dust. They outpace the wind itself, blowing through his hair and past his cheeks. The drumming of powerful hooves fill his ears. The scent of clean air, and miles and miles of open fields around them, as far as the eye can see... at last, his heart remembers how wondrous this world could be. At last, he’s just Claude again.

It’s been some time since he’s had the time to go on an expedition himself. With the war quieting down, apparently they’ve become more like picnics, what with everyone using them as an excuse to get away and relax for a bit. Who could blame them? The saddle suits Claude better than those hard, ancient chairs, he thinks, and between Shahid’s death and the discussions for the Federation, he’s glad to be reminded of what the sun feels like on his skin. 

His heart aches, knowing what’s waiting for him back at Derdriu. If Claude was alone, would he run away like he daydreams about? Just asking himself that, maybe that’s why Lorenz offered to come.

With one last look to the open plains, Claude turns his horse and returns to Lorenz’s side, breathless and smiling. “You brought lunch, right?” They didn’t talk through this much, did they. “...Right?”

[princessmacedon]

the tango continues ; WHC 2022 round 2

Making it past the first round, gaffes and giggles included, is already more than Maria had expected; at the same time, she knows that her friend’s goal is naught less than the victor’s crown, and so she is determined to do all she can to give him cause to smile when their dance is through.

[ 5 , 2 , 8 ] = 15

...It does not go as planned. The effort she puts into her artful, giggling twirls sands the steps from the grain of memory; where she once reveled in joy and flourish, she now tries too hard to be the best that she can. Ambition, it seems, is something much more gracefully worn by her siblings. 

Their dance this time is better, yes, but only just. Still, she does not fail to wave to their opponents with both hands as one pair exits the stage and the other enters, and she spares a moment to happily (and encouragingly!) flex for Forsyth even as she sticks to Lorenz’s side. Ah, dance is a tricky thing when not solely for the joy of it... 

next: @thyrosus ; then @viridescent-lance & @aimlessarchery !

[frauleindermorgen]

fódlan nerd collective

At this point Micaiah has taken to walking to the Black Eagles classroom, Professor Arvis’s key in pocket, on the first evening of the week as a given.  She’s already put the water to boil downstairs and will go fetch it and a teaset when she’s ready: but first, to air out the room.

It really does get musty with all the old tomes in here, not helped my Micaiah bringing more and more of them in. The notes she and Pelleas had taken on their respective dark and light magic tomes are in a neat pile in the corner and as Micaiah does a quick dusting past them she finds herself smiling at the thought this whole routine is about to become something of a book club.

Micaiah knew little of Lorenz Hellman Gloucester other than that he was a noble of the Alliance as well as friend and now classmate to Elincia; but that was more than enough. She thought Elincia’s judge of characters was one of her best qualities, and so when she had mentioned the discussion the two had had regarding different magic paths and the choices therein Micaiah had been bursting to share her own insight.

She’s already put the duster aside and is scribbling a diagram on the class’s board when she hears someone come in behind her.

“Oh! You’re here early, I haven’t even gotten the tea ready yet. Or… hm, did I forget the time in all my excitement? My apologies.”

paging @thyrosus or @amitieos

[toa-electricsheep]

ONE WEEK has only beget more questions than concrete answers.

Accommodating as the staff in their strange surroundings have been, Lorenz still feels disoriented. Every step he takes, he wonders if the world will find itself turned on its head yet again. Set to their tasks, it’s been quiet, if not for the hum of tension that permeates the air.

It breaks in the morning. Lorenz hovers in front of a screen—these “computers” are useful, an infinite database at his fingertips, but the sheer scope of it is a dizzying prospect that makes his head swirl if he dwells—considering each of his options down the columns when the door is open in a rushed flurry that sends Lorenz’s head shooting upwards.

Something has happened. He stares, pointedly, at the way Pia makes her entrance, hearing the words she says in a rush, but seeing first the way she clutches at her shoulder. Any and all thoughts of systems beyond his comprehension leave his mind; Lorenz understands military, and the stagger of someone in shock and wounded. No need to rise to his feet, as he’s taken to standing at the desks, and instead he bolts.

A hand rests against Pia’s good shoulder, firm enough to try and keep her from staggering into the room in anymore of a flurry, hoping to gently guide her towards a chair to sit.

“Miss Pia, please—" Voice firm, although inwardly he’s cursing the fact that, for the moment, no magic seems to flow from his fingertips; he would be willing to break a ruse to keep her upright, “breathe. You will do yourself no favors, panicked as you are.”

His other hand rests at her shoulder blades, encouraging her towards her chair. “I know time may well be of the essence, but please, sit. Will you permit us to take a look at your shoulder while you speak?”

“Ah...” Shaken by these events, Pia can’t help but sit down when Lorenz pushes her into the chair. It hurts so much, she’s never been shot before. Panic runs amok through her mind—why is this happening? Does the military want the Schwartzes that much? That they’re willing to kill for it?

Pia looks to the Verne archivists, an innocent party in all of this, here because they volunteered their time and expertise. And then to the AIWOU unit behind them, unmoving in spite of the commotion. Rex... no, L-431475... she can’t imagine how he is processing this. He would return to his original mission, but to turn against his creators...

“No. I must do this.” Tears streaming down her cheeks, Pia pushes herself up again, returning to the terminal. Her good arm pulls out a drawer, searching for a portable terminal. They can take the Schwartzes and flee. They might not have a chance alone, but with him...

On the computer, she pulls up a new window. Assign Administrative Access. Plugging the portable terminal into the computer, Pia shouts back at the others, “Bring me Rex! I must do this!”

[lualamina]

hc meme: rose!

Botanical Headcanons | accepting

rose : how much does your muse value other people ? do they wish to have many friends, lovers, and/or associates ? are they an easy person to love ?

How much does he value other people? A good deal more than he lets on. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t spend so much of his energy trying to avoid others so that he doesn’t wind up killing them. For his lone wolf act, he’s also surprisingly patient when people try to talk to him (literally any of his supports) or insist on being around him (Bernadetta), and is receptive to feedback. There are plenty of characters both in Three Houses and across the FE franchise who hate being around other people but make themselves far more prickly than Jeritza comes across. He has an intimidating presence, especially in battle when the Death Knight takes over, and maintains a great deal of physical distance between himself and others, but he doesn’t immediately reject company. The fact that most of his support conversations end up with him reflecting on himself because of some assessment someone else has made about him speaks of how much he seems to value outside input as well. Even more so that he often alters his behavior after reflecting (e.g. pays more attention to his allies in battle after Constance points out the way he solos skirmishes, tries to practice smiling after Manuela instructs him, among other things).

So that brings me to the next point: At his core, Jeritza - or rather, Emile - does seem to want connections with others, especially sympathetic ones. Jeritza often talks about how unbearable it is to be around others, but this seems to be out of a mix of needing to “hold back” the Death Knight and just being rather… awkward in conversation (+ a little defensive and/or not entirely appropriate for casual situations) because he doesn’t act on all of the opportunities he has to reject them or scare them off. Of course, he also doesn’t think that he deserves to be around others or to have friends, so that’s ultimately what will beat any sort of desire he has.

And lastly - is he an easy person to love? Ironically, yes. Once a few of the walls of his self-made fortress come down. We see it in almost all of his supports. Characters are persistent about being around him even when they don’t have to be. Those who knew him prior to the massacre seem to genuinely sympathize with him and want to see him in a healthy place, but they also respect his wants and boundaries. For those who didn’t know him then (Catherine, Manuela), there’s still this implicit leaning toward trying to help (from Manuela, it’s seeing him getting along with his subordinates and other soldiers; from Catherine, it’s the desire to help him find a reason to live). Even Bernadetta finds herself relating to and empathizing with him. He doesn’t have many connections, and there may be a dozen concrete walls between him and the rest of the world, but the connections he does have make it clear that they’re in his corner.

[ephemeralove]

PERHAPS it will be taken as a reminder of a cruel memory, of a shared discomfort that rests in the back of minds and yet not spoke aloud. But something catches Lorenz's eye one day, and after consideration, is tucked underneath his arm.

No such thing as a humble card from Gloucester, but he does his best:

KATARINA;

FOR THE WORDS THAT ARE DIFFICULT TO SAY ALOUD, OR FOR ADVENTURES THAT YOU WOULD PREFER TO IMMORTALIZE IN WORDS.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

YOURS,

LORENZ HELLMAN GLOUCESTER

What lies underneath the letter, flourishes and all: a leather bound notebook, with a content trail of cats following along its cover to the spine. (A happier litter than the last they witnessed, curious, not ravenous.)

It wasn't as though she thought her secrecy infallible. Indeed, she would have been more surprised if Lorenz had failed to ascertain her identity, but nevertheless, it had felt like an appropriate distance for her to keep all this time. She was well aware of the sort of creature she was.

Gloomy. Depressing. Above all, an ungainly reminder of misfortune suffered -- the kind of thing better off not crossing someone else's path. That the Gloucester heir seemed to flourish as flamboyantly as ever even in the wake of the events of last year was a blessing, and one she had not intended to sour, most especially when she did not know if he remembered. It is enough for her that she does, and whether or not she is the only one left who remembers his kindness, she will hold onto it preciously.

And yet as fingers curl 'round the back of a card, there is no denying that he does remember. The cats dancing over the spine of her newly acquired journal speak of more than a thoughtless gift of courtesy. Fingertips run over the design in quiet marvel; they look so... happy. Some part of her likes to think that there is peace for them here.

Come the next day, Katarina will take the measure of a certain rose and ladybug and acquire a frame for it, no matter how small. Today, however, she neatly folds the short note back into its envelope and takes a seat at her desk. In time, ink crawls across parchment in the shape of a date, then letters, though it does not fill the page -- rather, it scarcely fills the top line.

Today, it reads simply, I celebrated my second birthday as Katarina.

A pause.

It was good.

I'm happy.

[verseandrhyme]

[ 1180 Glasses ] - Oversized glasses with unique frames formed in the shape of the year “1180”. "If I am being forced to wear something ridiculous, it only seems fair you shoulder such tackiness with me!"

"I would care to hear your explanation on that conclusion. Is it not your noble duty to shoulder any duress the more unfortunate might face and allow them an easier passage through life?" Even as she argues this, Mitama takes the strange glasses she is presented and sets them upon her face. The number does make it a bit difficult to see with them.

"If anything, I would think you should wear more ridiculous clothing to take my half of our mutually ridiculous outfits!" And yet even now she takes a gentle hold of his arm and guides him off towards the projectionist so that they might have their photo taken.

She will look ridiculous. But Lorenz will also look ridiculous, and that evidence is worth more than its weight in gold to her.

"Smile now, noble Lorenz. Dawn forbid you be caught looking ridiculous!"

[renegadeofmacedon]

"Princess Minerva." A perfectly-poised bow and a smile at Lorenz's lips is the first impression he chooses to make; the engagement card between his fingers is but a formality, at least to his true intentions. "Your little sister Maria thinks the world of you, and in turn, I have waited for the day I can make proper introductions to such a revered lady. I am Lorenz Hellman Gloucester. I require no dance, only your ear for a moment of your time. I am delighted to make your acquaintance."

“Ah...” 

This isn’t the first time Minerva’s been approached in such a way, with many trying to curry her favor with honeyed words and subtle affirmations. As much as she wished it weren’t the case, her reputation yet again continued to set a precedent, through no fault of her own - but she couldn’t blame Maria for it, either, as she knew how much her sister idolized her... Regardless of whether or not she actually deserved it. 

But, then, there was the man before her; so self-assured and certain in his actions, it almost made Minerva a little envious. Almost.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, and seeing as you already know who I am, I will spare you the lengthy introduction. I will be blunt, as I have not heard your name until now - I do not mean any offense, as that is the case for many who I have met thus far who know of me by reputation alone. I only have recently arrived here, after all, so I still have so many introductions yet to make.” Minerva seamlessly retrieves her own stamp and engagement card, a small smile ghosting across her face. “Now, tell me - just what has my sister gotten herself up to, in my absence?”

[dameofcrimea]

Just a Simple Pleasant Chat ⁎ Team Derdriu

@thyrosus @ulirblood @sheerempathy

Titania, in all honesty, gets it. One of Lord Acheron’s men was not just killed, but in quite the brutal way, too. The knight had only a single glimpse in passing at the corpse, but that was enough for her imagination to fill in the literal gaps in the man’s body, and while the sight was nothing unusual for her, it was still far from what one would call pleasant.

So she gets it. The guy is probably... emotional, for lack of a better word, and he has the right to be.

Still... one of the students accompanying them on their visit to the man was a nobleman native to the Alliance, and his face expression told the rather perceptive Titania quite a lot in terms of what they could potentially expect.

And the frown did not paint a flattering image, to put it mildly.

Once they arrive at the residence, Titania takes a seat next to the others. Though the monastery had filled her in on what little they could, she is till a fairly fresh newcomer to Fodlan; and so, she resolves to - at least for now - allow them to do the talking and watch over the situation should anything get out of control.

(In what ways would that happen, she doesn’t know, but a mercenary is always ready for anything. There’s no way dealing with Begnion has not prepared her sufficiently for this, right?)

[amitieos]

notes on tenderness

Elincia weaved her way through the crowds at the marketplace, lingering at each and every flower stand. The blooms were captivating, some were flashy and brightly coloured and yet others were soft and delicate. They’d make a perfect gift, what with the Garland Moon fast approaching. Especially for someone she held especially dear.

So lost in thoughts of grandiose confessions and flowery bouquets, Elincia almost collided with a familiar figure. Lavender hair, tall stature and a noble bearing.

“Oh, Lorenz!” Elincia exclaimed joyfully, blushing at how loudly she’d spoken. A few heads turned towards her but she didn’t hold their attention for very long. Sheepishly, she whispered to him. “Sorry, I was just really happy to see you.”

The stall before him was stocked with roses of every shade and shape imaginable. She chuckles softly before stopping to smell the roses. The fragrance was sweet like honeysuckle and brought a smile to the Crimean’s face. They were also Lorenz’s signature, it was really no surprise to find him here. He was a man who understood beauty and elegance far better than most.

An idea struck her!

“Lorenz, are you terribly busy right now? If you are, please don’t let me keep you,” she took another glance at the roses, blooming brilliantly in the spring sunlight. “If you could spare me a moment though, I was wondering if I could pick your brains. I’m trying to gift some blooms to someone and I could use a keen eye like yours.”

@thyrosus​

[atypicalsenerio]

Knightmare [Lorenz, Byleth, Marth, & Soren]

Unscripted starter for @thyrosus @ashenprofessor @arcstral

Bullets fly past you all as you flee into the collections room—thankfully, besides an unlucky hit on Byleth, you manage to escape further injuries for now. This room is massive, with plenty of shelves and objects to hide behind and obstruct lines of sight. While the military has lost sight of you, there’re still hot on your trail and searching. Another buzz from the portable terminal,

[ L-431475] - KM350 “Schwartzes” should be nearby. Connect me to one of them.

They made it, but the crossing of one threshold to another put them nowhere near the finish line yet. Fumbling around in the semidarkness and not even pausing to rest, Soren kept his sense of direction by occasionally brushing up against shelves and slightly open draws of objects, all archived for the future to see, all in danger of destruction. He read Laelaps’s message on the terminal in his hand and used the dimly lit screen to navigate through the high ceilinged archive.

He’d enjoy spending time here, peaceful days soaking up knowledge until he could pass as an AI himself.

Distant gunshots spurred him on.

Though they hadn’t had access to the military AIs, the descriptions of the mechs made them difficult to miss.

The Schwartzes are just items in this collection, housed together in a line. There is a lot of space made for them. A sign hangs above them, "No AI Present—send to Army"

Soren got clear of a few shelves and could barely make out the shape of tall figures, humanoids made of metal with sharp angles glinting at the smallest touch of light. The dangling sign was a lie to keep the military from getting suspicious, no doubt. “Over here.” He spoke softly enough to carry to those near him but not the guards outside on the hunt. A ladder propped against the mech made the trip up inside relatively easy. He set Laelaps and his pile of electronics down in the cramped cockpit in the head of the armored unit, settling into a pilot’s station with a grunt. It was cramped, but he wasted no time in plugging the AIWOU unit in with the AI cable. “Alright. Tell me what to do, if you can hear me.”

"Don't touch anything." A young man's voice sounds from the Schwartz's speakers, broadcasting your location. You hear shouts from the soldiers, calling out orders to close in on your position.

Shit. Well, there was no helping that. Soren stayed still with his hands folded in his lap, nails digging into his palms, uneasy about having to trust Laelaps but certainly in no position to argue. “Very well. It sounds as though you’re at home in here.” Pia had mentioned Laelap’s historical significance, and Soren was guessing this must be akin to his previous work. “Do the others have AIs that will guide them as well as you?”

He was suddenly more polite now that he was inside a Laelaps piloted mech.

Laelaps ignores Soren for now, taking his first steps forward. "I advise the rest of you to get into one of the Schwartz units. One per person. The armor will protect you."

The soldiers come into view again and open fire. Inside the Schwartz, the sounds of the explosions have dulled slightly. The Schwartz Soren is in raises one arm, points at the soldiers, and fires back. Blood splatters from your enemies' bodies as they stumble and fall to the ground, dying.

Soren made no comment, studying the movements of the mech and the instant death the gunfire rained down on their enemies with a scientific curiosity, satisfied that Laelaps was indeed, useful.

What a world... was it better than his home, or worse, with these wonderful, terrible things? A mercenary was a mercenary, and if all he wanted was to get out with his life, this would do just fine.

He turned his head, watching the others get into their mechs.

[boundlesshart]

LORENZ STRIKES BRIGHT AND EARLY, with a glint in his eye as though he has something to prove. His smile would be kind, were it not for the particular air of satisfaction that seems to follow him, little more than a bow and a cursory good morning before he's gotten to business.

"I am here to return a kindness, so you may leave your trepidation at the door." With little more explanation but far more gravity than the action likely demands, Lorenz sets three things before Claude, all stacked atop one another.

What rests on top is a feat of craftsmanship. In function, it is little more than a paperweight, but what catches the eye is the attention to detail. Not a scale or delicate claw out of place, all carved from a light wood and coming together to make the shape of a wyvern, wings outstretched and all but ready to take flight. ("I picked this up when last I visited Derdriu. Useful, of course, but clearly made with a careful hand. You may be the arbiter of its accuracy to the real thing.")

And then, the package it rests upon. Bound with a rich deep-blue paper, gold ribbon across, and a fresh quill made from a black feather, larger than most, tucked between them. ("There is a particular breed of pegasi favored by mages, and many a poet has sworn by quills made from their feathers. I cannot attest to the accuracy of those superstitions, but... they are quite eye-catching, are they not? I feel as though my best thoughts find themselves to the page easier with it in my hand.")

And, finally, what rests within the paper and ribbon: a hardcover tome, preserved with care but showing its age at the corners. Inside, the pages show the slightest hint of yellowing, but otherwise the lettering still reads perfectly fine.

"Mind its age, of course, but I am told this is an original copy. One of the first books of its kind, penned by the captain of one of Leicester's very first wyvern corps. I imagine much has changed about the care and keeping of your preferred companions, and while I may not fully understand your interest, I respect the passion."

Just for a moment, Lorenz's smile is a little more genuine. "Happy birthday, Claude. May the day find you well."

Lorenz rushing through formalities? Something's up. Claude returns the smile of course, but there's something... smug about his classmate that forces him to stay on his toes. When has Lorenz ever come to him for just a social call? There has to be something else here.

And there is. Multiple somethings, to be exact. Claude is very aware of the date, but without his family here to celebrate with him and the strange way time has flowed during this school days, birthdays don't have quite the same cheer as they once did. But he always brightens up at the sight of presents. "For me?"

A small statuette of a wyvern sits on top, catching his eye first. Small, perfect for a desk or for decorating a potted plant. Claude takes Lorenz's comment about its accuracy as invitation to scrutinize it... and finds nothing to say. The proportions are excellent, and the wyvern's expression has the depth and care he would expect an Almyran craftsman to put into something like this, not a Fódlan one. Fierce, but not wrathful. The burning passion of a protector. This alone is impressive enough, and yet Lorenz decided that wasn't enough. Of course not.

A black pegasus-feather quill, soft and unlike any pegasus feather he's ever touched. There may be more colorful feathers and pens out there, but the complexity of this feather's dark color and shine is pleasing all on its own. Finally, excited hands fumble with the gold ribbon and carefully peel off the blue wrapping. What would Lorenz give him?

...

An old book. Worn, already used and loved. But it's not the condition of the book that catches Claude's attention but the title. One of the Alliance's most well-known books, proclaimed the best book on wyvern conformation and training in Fódlan. A book so rare, not even his grandfather's library possesses a copy. Until now.

I respect the passion, he says. Respecting one's passion doesn't have to be this extravagant! Then again, this is Lorenz he's talking about...

"Lorenz, this is so—first edition?!" Of course the heir of House Gloucester would find a way to get his fine perfumed hands on something as valuable like this. Claude delicately flips through the first chapter, unable to hide his excited grin as he flips through pages brimming with new knowledge and insight.

"...I hope you're not making birthday gifts a competition." There's no bite in his jab. Claude grins widely at Lorenz, taking the other's hand and squeezing it in gratitude. "You're making my gift to you look like shit in comparison."

[princessmacedon]

{ ooc: housekeeping

with arena behind us and august looming on the horizon, i thought i’d finally do a bit of housekeeping! some of these are a bit, ah, dusty, so if anyone wants to drop a thread, please feel free to let me know! i’m glad to drop one (and possibly pick up another if that tickles anyone’s fancy hehe ^^ ) if i missed anyone it’s definitely not on purpose so!! pspsps, feel free to let me know :>

ALSO: i just finished redoing my supports page if anyone wants to check it out! 

bold is maria, italic is katarina! tracker here

waiting on me:

ethereal ball thread @luxichor

ethereal ball thread @ylisseanstar

kit kat kittycat @unsungblade

of roses and lapels @thyrosus

monochrome melodies @alfvangr

waiting on partner:

fodlan winds & birds chasing cats @aubins (fw possibly concluded?)

conversation pal @atypicalsenerio (i waited until i finished my reply to post this IUGHIEW sorry--!!)

thyrsus thriller & kings and gardens @arcstral

insert wet floor sign @blaydiud

on wandering wings @unsungblade​

[thyrosus]

SEALED FOREST; criss-cross.

UNLOCKED 2021 STARTER:  @arcstral; @heartstringbound; @saionofvalflame; @thiefs-vow.

—FIRST, FIRE, for what little good it does to fight back against the oppressively dreary surroundings.

There is no place for indecisiveness at the onset of what could very well be a war, enemy unseen. His classmates needed a steady presence, and he has a duty to fulfill it. He had almost missed the party, settling affairs as his peers prepared—in private, steeling himself, fingers tracing at the blasted mark—

No. They need a cool head, such as himself. Someone prepared to brandish spell and lance and stare down an unknown foe; and, failing that, someone with the wherewithal to see to their retreat.

He had almost missed this opportunity. He will not again, stepping up to decode the mystery of the door barring themselves from the heart of ancient, gnarled tree. Casted Fire matches the strange blue lights that dot the entryway, the orange flame natural, the sickly blue decidedly *not.*

The door. Focus.

Lorenz bends himself down as he scans each edge, only stopping once the first curiosity gives him pause:

A… slot? As though someone had forgotten to carve the keyhole properly.

“Come, look,” he speaks, to draw the attention of the small party under his care. “I… have not seen a keyhole so peculiar before.”

↳ @thiefs-vow!

[toa-electricsheep]

as it was

“So, about Jeanne... I figure that if I’m planning to pull you guys with me if I find her, you might as well know about who she was.”

Eating dinner over an open fire... something about this feels nostalgic to Raoul. As everything goes to hell around him, he finds himself appreciating these mundane moments. The sun setting, as it always does. Skies darken to night, brightened by a glowing moon and stars unobstructed by smog.

Raoul can’t help but smile as he remembers her voice. “Farina and Shez know already, but I’ve been a soldier for a long time. Operated a KM900 of my own—nothing like these guys, where it’s manually-operated. Back then, every mech was outfitted with a combat AI that would run tactical analyses, advise you on the best move, calculate where exactly to send missiles, things like that. When the battlefield gets chaotic, it’s great to have a second brain to lend you a hand. That’s what AI are for. But Jeanne... I don’t know. She was different. More like a partner. A friend. I...”

He swallows thickly, grunting loudly to hide his emotions. “Excuse me. There was just something special about her. And the day the virus infected her, well, I’ve never been the same since. They say that it forces AI to turn against their masters, and back then you’d hear about guys getting crushed from inside the mech immediately after their AI turned rogue. But Jeanne didn’t. She reported that she was infected by the virus. Then told me she loved me, and ejected me from the machine.”

...

“I know she’s in there somewhere. I need to see her again. Do you understand now?”

@thyrosus @arcstral @making-dough @spearingskies @ulirblessed @larvesez