#viridescent-lance

[aimlessarchery]

from @viridescent-lance​

"Python! Happy birthday!" Forsyth bursts into Python's room without knocking. A common occurrence, though he's tried his best to temper it lest he intrude on something he'd like to unsee. Thankfully, Python is fully clothed and actually doing something productive, sharpening the whittling knife Forsyth had gifted him for his last birthday. It makes his heart swell a little. "I hope it's been a good one thus far. I apologize for being so late..."

Forsyth's been swamped with post-mission work, be it aftermath or catch-up. He's not one to shirk his work, but if he'd finished it a little more swiftly than normal, no one will be the wiser.

"I've come to deliver you your present, and perhaps to spend some time together?" The bottle of wine is very obvious in its shape even wrapped, but at least the archer's gloves aren't immediately guessable. Forsyth does feel a little forward, but this is something he wishes to do and he will allot himself this, especially on his partner's birthday!

"Looks like you've been popular today!" Gifts are strewn about the room, a dagger, several sets of arrows...and a beautiful, luxurious bouquet. Huh. Flowers? They're tucked away unceremoniously in the back of his room, but it's a fresh bouquet. Forsyth stifles a laugh at the thought of someone gifting Python flowers, of all things.

(Well, Forsyth did get him flowers, once, didn't he? These are exceedingly expensive, though, he can tell. And yet Python's thrown them in the back to be accidentally crushed later...)

"May I ask how you happened upon those flowers?" Forsyth picks them up carefully, making certain not to crush the blooms. They really are beautiful, and their colors seem almost perfectly aligned with Forsyth's armor, of all things.

To be quite honest, Python’s not used to his birthday being such an event. The majority of the gifts he’s received have been awkwardly deposited at his desk until he can determine where to store them. In the meantime, there’s a gift from last year to tend to. The knife that Forsyth had given him—he’d used it to carve through a bear, or at least he’d thought he had. Only the goddess knows what the hell he had actually been cutting into behind the veneer of Celephais’s illusions.

Whatever it was, it had still done a number on the blade. He scrapes it across a whetstone in an smooth, even rhythm—interrupted by the sharp staccato of his door being unceremoniously thrown open. "Crivens, Fors. You ever gonna learn how to knock?" He twists toward Forsyth in his chair with a sigh, knife still in hand. A glance is spared back toward the bouquet in question. "The flowers were from Caeda. She..." His eyes move back to Forsyth, and then to the shape of the gifts in his arms. One of them is difficult to discern, but the other is quite obvious. "...Awkward story, actually. I think I'd rather tell it over a glass of something, maybe." His eyebrows raise expectantly.

[lycianlynx]

the wiping party of mach // w.h.c. round 1

If Chad can say anything, it's that they don't want to be here — But between suffering Earth's heavy scrutiny for the entirety of the rest of the night and just suffering it for a little while and being mostly free of it the rest of the night, they picked the latter.

They're kind of regretting it, honestly. Though the boy's not an awful dancer, though they've gone through the practice moves with a clear mind, critical eye and definite objective: Do passably and Get Out — The closer their turn draws, the more their hands shake. There's a tension in their entire body they can't force out, jaw clenched, shoulders drawn taut like a livewire.

All they can see and hear with the lights turned on them is their own thundering heartbeat, their cloying breath and light, light, light, piercing them through — But at least muscle memory wouldn't fail them as the music starts up — A low roar, slow, deliberate, flowing movements that go from one into the next — But a set of strings builds up speed, becomes frenetic as Chad lets momentum carry them from one gesture to the next, half-falling into a spin that dips them low and back up again, their own gravity precarious as their sleeves trail out behind them —

Fine, so far. But they can't keep up the balance they need for for the recovery, their limbs sluggish from anxiety nipping at their heels, and their foot loses ground into an ungainly stumble, disrupting their flow.

A roaring panic begins to eat at them, the fiddle fraying not just the strings, but the last of their own nerves alongside it; There's a recovery as they substitute in a heel spin, but the rest of the choreography flies away from their fingertips as a controlled dip falls out of their hands, has them falling to the floor, and instead of coming back up smoothly, they hit the ground, hard, and the shock has them take a fraction too long to get back up.

The music cuts out. The boy lies, wide-eyed, not daring to move for a long moment — Before the eyes, the eyes register, and they're scrambling onto hands and knees, stricken. This — This was a mistake. This was a mistake. They never should've — Never should've—!!

Earth rumbles in disapproval. Chad can't even bring themself to look at the score numbers, lifted up damningly just inches above their field of vision.

style: 1 choreo: 3 technical: 3

They need to get out of here, now. They gather themself up, bow hastily and vacate the stage for their opponent — Making themself scarce in the maze of hedges under cover of night, tears pricking at their eyes.

et tu, @viridescent-lance @nagaficat?

[making-dough]

🐺- A memory about being alone

memories meme - very closed. very late. just remembered i still have a pile of these, ahaha~ thanks for the ask!

♠ - A frustrated footfall stomped down heavily, muffled against the snow below. A loud, angry, frustrated stomp that only expressed a fraction of how mad she was right now. How long? Exactly how long had Fiora been keeping all of this to herself? How long has her sister been paying for her mistakes?

Really, it was her mistake in the first place. Her stupid dare that had resulted in her squad of trainees flying into that storm in the first place. So, why the hell was her big sister, who didn't have a single thing to do with that dumb dare in the first place, the one who was saddled with all that debt? Just for saving her life?

And she'd thinking things were leaner than usual lately. That Fi had been away more often than usual lately. Of course, they were. Of course, she was. The hell have those nobles gotten her sister doing?! And, of course, like a stubborn idiot, she refuses to take help from anybody. Which was what led to their fight.

Fine. Be that way. Even if Fi disagrees, she'll find a way to gather that much coin, anyway. Even if she has to do it on her own, because, uh, she might have said a little too much. It might be best to let things cool down for a bit.

Farina marched her way over to her pegasus, still fuming with anger and newfound determination. She'll get that gold, even if she had lie, cheat and steal her way to get it. But, right now, only one thing was true of her most of all. "Looks like it's just you and me now, Murph."

[cursedbluebird]

Tea for Three

Reason and Faith band together to put on this month’s special seminar: the history of tasseomancy! You will be learning the “magic” behind divination and how the old masters used the remains of tea leaves and coffee grounds to predict future events. Just in time for the moon of love, you will all be divining your romantic futures from a delicious cup of white rose tea. [Grants Reason or Faith +1]

@aimlessarchery @viridescent-lance

The magic seminar made Marianne sick with anxiety. She didn't need to be able to read the future to know hers, and anyone who knew her, was going to be filled with misfortune. But... She had skipped a few classes to spend time atoning in the cathedral... And her grades had slipped a little... So she really needed to do this assignment.

Marianne looked around at the garden. Most of the tables were filled with other students working on the same assignment. She wondered how it felt to be excited about the future.

Marianne fiddled nervously at her notes, thumbing though the instructions and the list of symbols as she waited. She hoped that her misfortune wouldn't rub off on Professor Python and Forsyth...

[luneirika]

raiden turn the game console off right now! | team 9 iron round

Feathered wings beat rhythmically beneath her, keeping her both afloat and her nerves from fraying. The arena hasn’t changed at all but where one foe once stood now are four. Her head still aches from the cold and the deep slumber she had been pulled beneath. One she feared would never end. Her right hand clasps around the weapon she holds, not her reliable, trusted sword but a lance. Just like Ephraim and Tana. 

She can do this, she’s sure of it. The lance seems to respond to fond thought of her brother and best friend as warmth surges through her hand and into her body.

Blessed Lance restores 1 HP to Eirika Eirika has 6/10 HP remaining

With a steadying breath, she urges her pegasus to fly forward, carrying her over to Odin. Equipped with healing magic, she wonders if this too, is something she can make use of.

Eirika casts Recover on Owain Roll d20: 5! 3HP recovered Owain has 6/10 HP remaining

Eirika frowns, despondent and irritated by her meager display of skill. She’s never used white magic before but it feels as though the spell is trying to taunt her. Regardless, some of the colour returns to Odin’s face, a sign that his wounds are healing at least. “I’m sorry, that seems to be the limit of my ability right now,” Eirika confesses, struggling to look the man in the eyes. “Please, be cautious. We cannot do this without you.”

@making-dough, @viridescent-lance & @teneguine

[carefreemonk]

🎄+ 💋 

This is entrapment. There's no way Forsyth has walked under a sprig of mistletoe coincidentally at the same time as Azama. Alas, he has no proof to substantiate this claim, and thus, the law of festivities hold true. He must endure a kiss.

[ mistletoe meme ]

Forsyth was a Knight among Knights, truly.

And a Knight among Knights wouldn't be so discourteous as to spurn a beloved foreign tradition, would he?

"Oho ho! Fancy meeting you here."

Azama leans forward, tilting his head just so, offering his cheek.

"Right here, friend, at your convenience ;3c" *taps taps*

[teneguine]

i’m fuckin’ invincible! - team 9 gold round

The cave crumbles, its rocky exterior giving way to the open air. Dust clouds whip up as the arena does away with its drab and dreary setting, but they do not last long, for a deluge of rainfall immediately snuffs them out. They are high in the clouds now, our heroes, situated atop a concrete plateau just barely beneath petering droplets. As Owain looks down, he can see roads and buildings, but not any kind of road or building from his world. No, this technology is foreign, almost alien. Were it not for his adventures in Eden, he wouldn’t have a name for his setting. A city is what he knows it as, despite it contrasting with the preestablished definition of the word. They are atop a skyscraper: another word he has come to know through that book. As his eyes scan the horizon he notices several more sprouting from the ground he can barely make out, though none are as tall as the one he fights on.

His head then snaps to his enemy, and his gear is exchanged for a new set. A pegasus’ wings lift him into the air, and all that heavy stuff from last round has disappeared to make room for a pair of gauntlets in his hands. He scoffs at his foe, for he knows it will be taken down in spite of its gargantuan size. It is a metal titan of near-unimaginable design, standing on two legs and sporting a pair of protrusions he can only guess are meant to be arms. But they connect into no sort of hand, and are positioned up and out of the way of the creature’s body--almost like a bird’s wingspan. Its giant metal face opens and lets loose a mechanical roar, shattering the glass on floors below, and causing a smaller triad of drones to cling to their stadium. It then goes silent, and a translucent veil envelops its body. It disappears, though perhaps blending in would be a better way of stating things. Its body is now the same color as they grey sky and falling rain--a target impossible to hit, again in spite of its gargantuan size. 

“Hmph,” Dark smirks, pulling his weapons on tighter, “you dare make an enemy of me? You will meet your end, fiend, for I have been reborn as the Fist of the South Star! Watch as I unleash my fury!” 

Owain uses Brave Knuckles! Roll 4d20+6 = 11, 9, 17, 17; hit, hit, hit, hit! -3 HP, -3 HP, -3 HP, -3 HP; Radio Scout: Scrap A 8/20 HP

Self-Repair activates! Roll 1d7 = 7, Alloy Arsenal: Revengeance consumes Radio Scout: Scrap A to heal +1 HP and gain a permanent +1 luck

“My first four forms collide against your tin-can flesh! URAAHH!”

“Fall to the might of my Blade of Light!”

“Garden of Gaiden will leave you reeling!” 

“Taste my Mystery of the Emblem!”

“Genealogy of Infinite Pain! It hurts so bad, your grandchildren will be wincing for years after your death!” 

Of note is the fact that robots do not have children. They do, however, get eaten. And this one, after taking a beating of four deadly punches from the Scion of Legend, does just that. The kill switch in its body detects that it has taken sufficient damage, and lights a siren to signal it is no longer of use. Instantly Owain’s foe is consumed by the bigger one. He recoils in disgust, flying back a few feet with his mount, but is ultimately undeterred. When another bot climbs up to replace the first, he is quick to strike it down just as he did its predecessor, spouting another quartet of special moves.

Summon Scouts activates! Radio Scout A is replaced!

Owain uses Brave Knuckles! Roll 4d20+6 = 7, 24, 15, 17; hit, hit, hit, hit! -3 HP, -3 HP, -3 HP, -3 HP; Radio Scout: Scrap A 8/20 HP

Self-Repair activates! Roll 1d7 = 3, Alloy Arsenal: Revengeance consumes Radio Scout: Scrap A to heal +1 HP and gain a permanent +0.5 base damage

“Had enough yet? You will after a Thracia Thrashing!”

“Binding Beatdown!” 

“Blazing Beat-Up!”

“This move I know well, so cower in fear! Sacred Stones Strike!”

Any unfortunate enough to watch would have the misfortune of bearing witness to a near-identical fight. Each ramming of his fist puts another dent or break in the small scout’s hull, and after he shouts his last move, it gets repurposed like the first. 

Again the roof of this building is shaken by the roaring of the machine. This time it feels stronger against Owain’s flesh, knocking him and his mount onto the ground. He holds on, just barely, but his effort is futile. Another scout comes to replace his second kill, creating a dip in his ego and a falter in his resolve. Is there even a point to fighting these things?

Dark backs off, deciding he’s had enough with mechanical gluttony for now. His plan is to wait for the big one’s cloak to wear off, and give it a taste of his next eight sacred forms.

UP NEXT: @luneirika @viridescent-lance @making-dough

[justices-blade]

💗 GROWING HEART - if they have a crush, is it noticable? what changes when they're in love?

ask meme - emoji asks

// hee hoo... he's head over heels for leonardo and he has no idea. he's been that way for a while and he has no idea. it's not even that easy to pick out because edward's openly affectionate with anyone he considers a friend and whose boundaries permit it; even people who are familiar with him could look at how he acts and just find it to be a natural extension of how long the two have known eachother and how much they've been through, while people less familiar will just clock leonardo as his obvious bestie.

// he does do an Amount of stealing glances and little touches and affectionate grinning, though. he visibly perks up when he spots leonardo across the courtyard, he lets his guard down around him, tries to impress him and do him proud, his internal monologue is evidently smitten and yet noone can hear it and the fool boy doesn't fucking realise. but the second you let him start talking about leonardo at length? it's obvious.

// it needs some digging, just because of how he is as a person; full of affection and admiration off the bat towards most anyone willing to accept it. but once you start digging, it's impossible not to notice. it's cute.

[luminousrider]

I Am That Is

You notice things you would never have picked out before. Seeing the world from down here, you occasionally find odd tokens in the grass, in pots, in other such hidden places. Trouble is, they appear to be but half of whatever treasure you’ve found. Not to worry! One of the fairies captured in a recent mission is all too happy to take them off your hands, promising good luck and miracles for every complete match. Who knows if the ‘good luck’ is real, but there does seem to have been one small side effect after the fact: you’ve learned, quite incidentally, that you can now speak with mice! And hoo boy, do they have a lot to say: they humbly request your help, O strange near-hairless rodents, in order to defeat the threat of other mice invading their (your) territory. Teach them, they plead! Teach them to fight! Well, all right then. Surely nothing untoward will come of you showing one or two of them how to swing a stick… [ Grants Any Skill +1 ]

When Altena found herself shrunken to a size that could be held in a normal sized person's hand, it was strange. Then there was a fairy, an actual real fairy, who offered to take treasure off of her and her classmates' hands. That was also strange. But even both of these events could not have prepared her for what happened next.

Now she and one of the monastery's knights listen as a group of talking mice beg their help in learning how to fight with weapons in a territory war.

At first she is hesitant. She has seen the devastation left behind when fighting is pursued without any chance of peace talks. But the mice speak of their starving families, of scarce food, and their rivals who will not share. She knows that devastation too.

"I want to help you." A hand is held out in a fist in front of her. This could be her chance to lead with compassion like her cousin and her brother. She can't just sit by while people--mice, these are mice--are suffering. Even if they are just well, rodents. "What do you think, Sir Forsyth? Can I count on your guidance as well?"

@viridescent-lance

[sorcerese]

"i refuse to play the role of a pawn in someone else’s corrupt game."

              theology... history.... conclusion :  gods suck!  school suck too !       she stares at the classroom door, amber orbs filled with disgust and annoyance. bearing malice towards the very textbooks in her arms. grumbling & inner protesting rattles her brain. what if she feigned sickness... surely that would work. after all, delthea was a youth of extreme talent! talents that include  complaining  acting, of course !   how else would she escape from her brothers lectures? maybe a little rehearsing is in order.  the girl flings her arm over her head, scene start!  “   oohhh noo!!! professor i've come down with a little bit of a headache ohhh nooo dear meee~! no, no! i think i just need rest professor no need to call professor maneula! it's a waste of her efforts—  ”  she quickly jumps upon hearing someone sigh behind her as she finished up her theatrics.

  “  woah waaaah!  YOU.  how long were you there?!  ”   the mage harshly whispers hand pressed against her cheek, leaning over to him, teeth gritted.  oh, its that one guy. did she remember his name? uh maybe...  was it forest...? foresight or something... uh she'll figure it out.  “   aw c'mon, forsyth.  weren't we fighting on the same battlefield for the freedom of our people !  you can't just rat me out like this...!  ”    she whines. she clutches her hand together in plea, eyes widen and slightly tearing up; this was sure to work after all, delthea learned this move from a certain cunning priestess.      “  please allow me to sneak- aHEM,  i mean rest today,  you wouldn't do that to your good ol' pal delthea, right?!  ”    she maintains her puppy eyes as she continues to stare at him for about a whole two minutes. but stalwart in his statement, he stands there judging her.... ultimately and thoroughly disappointed with her.      “  man, you suck... fine, i'll go to class just don't tell the professor i tried to cut class...  ”    she grumbles as she kicks the door lightly with her foot walking inside the classroom and plopping herself into the chair. sinking all the way down to her lower back. mumbling and fussing as she grabs her textbook and opens it over her face like a tent.       “  blah blah, what you mean "corrupt game"  he's so full of bullplop, dumb knights and their stupid chivalry !  ”    

[exclted]

In the Trenches (Iron Round - Team 12)

The battlefield clears, enemy illusions vanishing into thin air, and there is a moment’s panic as the weight at Lucina’s hip disappears as well. Fingers reach instinctively for the hilt of the sword that should rest there, only to be met by something terribly unfamiliar.

There is the weight of an axe in her palm, fingers tightening quickly around its handle so as to prevent it from clattering to the ground. They aren’t done, then. Oh Naga.

A cursory glance over her allies, watching as their own weapons manifest similarly, before attention is drawn to what would seem to be the next onslaught of enemies. These are considerably better armed than the last, but she supposes her allies are just as well. 

“Their healer first,” she is no Robin, but she has led a charge before. It is only by instinct that she calls her orders. Whether or not her allies choose to listen is another story, but it can wait. Lucina gives little time for discussion, testing the weight of her axe in her palm.

A breath, other hand coming to balance that grip, and she charges.

Lucina attacks Priest A with Killer Axe: Attack 1: 6+4 = 10: Hit! -3 HP (Total 15/18) Attack 2: 12+4 = 16: Hit! -3 HP (Total 12/18) Poison Strike: +1 Damage (Total 11/18)

The weapon is heavier than she is used to, but its momentum carries itself as she brings it down on the priest before arcing it upwards immediately after. Unfamiliar, she decides, but not terrible. It lacks the grace she has spent her entire life learning, but hey. If it works.

Priest A counters with Seraphim: 15-4 = 11: Hit! -2 HP (Total 4.5/10)

The priest raises hands in defense, and magic sparks to life. Lucina grimaces as it hits her, teeth bared. There had been no time to deal with the wounds she had maintained prior, and now they’re really beginning to sting.

@cadenzardea next

[aimlessarchery]

"Python! Happy birthday." It's a more subdued birthday than the last few have been, given the events of the past month. More than the month, really. He cannot dwell upon that, though. Not if he is to make Python's birthday a truly joyous one.

"I've given some thought as to what I would like to do for you this day." Forsyth thinks back to the wrapped gifts in his room, the cheeses and dark chocolates and meats, the fancy whetstone, the handwritten letter he'd penned so carefully. "I do have some things for you, but we can visit them later in the evening. For now, I've an idea...you know that one tavern in town? The one you balk at the prices of and stare longingly at nonetheless? After your ordeal, I thought perhaps we could make a night of partaking in its delicacies. ...on my dime, of course."

Forsyth takes Python's hand, bringing him in close. They share a kiss, something more lingering and bittersweet than a birthday kiss should be. It's incredible, how much emotion can be contained in a moment's brush of the lips.

"I love you. I hope we share many more years together."

"Shit, you've got a whole night planned? If I didn't know any better I'd be worried about you hiding a ring somewhere back in your room." There's an extra sort of energy in Forsyth's kiss. It isn't the loud, forceful kind that carries him from barracks to battlefield and back, but something else. An intensity that's hard to name. Not knowing how to match it, Python simply draws closer to acknowledge it. I love you. The declaration washes hot over Python's skin, breathed out so closely. "I know you do." His words are warm with sincerity and fondness, even if they don't precisely echo Forsyth's. They've always been a contrasting set rather than an identical match. Surely Forsyth understands that. "You don't have to spoil me to prove it." He leans into Forsyth with his shoulder and twines their fingers together. His smile sharpens into a playful grin. "…Not that I'll turn down an evening together. 'Specially on your dime."

[cadenzardea]

Clash! — Bronze Round [Team 12]

‘Rescuing students from a book’ may not be a duty Reyson imagined to be given, but he shoulders the responsibility with purpose. He gives a small nod to the Projectionist, and then to his teammates for this rescue mission. The green-clad knight is familiar, but the others—a serious azure-haired young woman and a brunette monk wielding an axe and an odd air about him—are both strangers to him. Proper introductions will wait until after the mission, it seems.

The world shifts, a strange fog engulfs the room. Humanoid shadows wobble in the haze, slowly coming into focus. The floor beneath Reyson's feet turns to sandy dirt, and the columns of the training grounds of Garreg Mach stretch wider and taller, morphing into a grand arena. The shadows come into sharp focus: four opponents, all brandishing weapons. Reyson flaps his wings, stirring dust beneath his feet and lifting himself off the ground. The breeze in his feathers centers him, as it has in battles before. He has survived far worse than this, and he shall do so again. His voice rises and weaves together an old song of vigor, ancient lyrics of sharp eyes and sharp talons killing prey in one swift blow. He pours the magic into the Forsyth, hoping the gift can compensate for the knight's cumbersome armor.

Reyson uses Rally Dexterity on Forsyth: Forsyth gets +4 to attack and heal rolls for the rest of the round

@viridescent-lance @exclted @carefreemonk 

[making-dough]

Eat your heart out, Eusine! - Team 9 Bronze Round

Arena (Winter) Bronze round starter for @teneguine , @luneirika , @viridescent-lance , @lionsword

♠  - As dreams went, this wasn’t a particularly bad one. A lot more battle arena-ish and a lot less pools of gold for her liking but it would do. At the very least, it could do with a little more adoring crowds. Wait, hold on. More importantly, she’d recognised this setup. Yep, looked like it was time for one of those weird dream arena thing again. complete with a...Huh, looks like she actually got a proper spear this time. You never could know what you were getting out of one of these events. In the mean time, she may as well check out who else had gotten dragged in this time.

Forsyth, she recognised well enough, flashing him a quick wave for greetings, but the other three she was a little less certain on. Was it just her imagination or did one of them look oddly like Lord Eliwood? Huh, must be a random cousin or something. Oh, you know those lordly-types. Too much intermarriage, cousins everywhere, the works. 

Anyway...”Let’s see what we’re dealing with and whoa!”, Farina remarked, mid-stretch, eyes wide at their apparent adversary. A sleek, shimmering blue cat-like creature with a long flowing mane and long streamers trailing behind. “Oh, damn, you’re a pretty one.”, she hummed in a low impressed whistle. Now, that was a sight to see. Maybe she could even have a go at catching it an-

As if it had sensed her thoughts, the beast tensed as if preparing to leap...Which was going to be a problem if the aim of these arenas went as they normally did. May as well get on top of that pronto, Farina had decided, sprinting forwards and ducking low and into a slide, her lance flashing a trail right across the beast’s foreleg, catching it right as it was about to leap away.

Farina attacks the Aurora Beast with Shatter Slash. - 19! Hit Dealt 1.5 Damage to the Aurora Beast! -1 Defence and Resistance to the Aurora Beast for one turn!

The Aurora Beast counters with Howling Winds ]. - 7! Barely Hit. Farina takes 1.5 Damage. 

Farina HP: 10.5/12

Aurora Beast HP: 8.5/10

She’d wound up leaving quite a gash behind on the beast - it certainly wasn’t going to go anywhere fast anytime soon. Though, uh, not without catching a shoulder-ful of the cold winds it had let loose in response. “Damn, this thing's chilly.”, the mercenary remarked, patting herself down of the snow and sleet and other cold bits she’d just taken a shoulder-ful of. Looks like this thing wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Just how she’d liked it. 

[peerlessscowl]

💗 GROWING HEART - if they have a crush, is it noticable? what changes when they're in love?

Oh boy.

Yes and no, but you have to look very closely.

Like I've discussed in other posts, the way that Raven interacts with the world around him is inextricably linked to the bonds that he's formed (and, in most cases, the ones he hasn't allowed to form). I've mentioned before that I find it so interesting that he is most aggressive and even callous with the people he loves most - he shouts! At both Lucius and Priscilla to get away from him! Meanwhile he is patient and tolerant with Rebecca, Wil and Bartre, and this is so telling.

He understands that he is a dangerous person to be around because of his goals and his own actions - and so with those same actions, he endeavors to make himself even more difficult to stay nearby. The message is consistent and clear, and smacks of suicidal ideation: you will get hurt if you stay around me because I am going to get hurt by being me.

The developing of any kind of attachment for Raven is going to be a long, slow process, and a romantic one even moreso (not least of which because I believe he is asexual, but that's another discussion). This is not to say that he wouldn't develop an attraction to someone (since that's not something that can necessarily be controlled), but the important part is what he does with that attraction.

A) If he finds himself attracted to someone who has put in the time to form a bond with him, it's very likely that he will push them away, abruptly and aggressively. He will likely lash out at them, say mean-spirited things that he doesn't actually mean, in the hopes that they will give up on him and leave him just like everyone does, just like everyone should.

B) If he finds himself attracted to someone who has not formed a bond with him, he will simply not pursue it. He might pine for a bit if he knows them fairly well, but this is unlikely. It is more likely that he will simply decide that he is not interested, and then treat them as a stranger moving forward: with cold distance and courtesy, but little else.

Important to note: if he attempts to push someone he is attracted to or in love with away and they call him out on it, he will fold. He will apologize, and he will behave with more humility and care toward them moving forward. If a person has gotten to this point with him, scaled the walls around his heart, cleared the hurtles of his bad attitude and his aggression, and make it clear in no uncertain terms that they are going to be there for him through it all, then that person will have just become Raven's world. And he will go to any length to cherish them.

[gradible]

Could it be? The voice is familiar, and the way in which he conducts himself makes Forsyth almost certain. That is Sir Ezekiel, who Forsyth served alongside during the later portion of the Deliverance's efforts.

"Sir Ezekiel!" Forsyth raises a hand in greeting, taking a break from his pre-mission training. There are not many Valentians at Garreg Mach, and, while he does not know the man well, it is nice to see a familiar face. Well, not quite a face; the man is wearing a mask similar to the one Forsyth has seen Celica's brother don on occasion, but it is unmistakably Zeke. "It has been some time! The fates deemed it fit for us to fight alongside one another yet again, it seems."

"Peace, Sir Forsyth," a flat-palmed hand raises in an attempt to quell the other knight, Zeke's voice kept low to cue Forsyth into following suit, "You are most assuredly correct, but I am meant to be undercover."

He checks once left, then twice right--cocking his head to the side to ensure they truly have their privacy. Once the coast is clear, the mask comes off, held just beside the Rigelian's face so that it may be donned quickly, should anyone be heard approaching them. "Your wit has not dulled in my absence, it seems... Yes, 'tis I, Sir Ezekial of the One Kingdom's knights."

Again his eyes dart around the room to confirm that the two are alone, and Zeke allows himself both a sigh and smile. Perhaps he was overzealous in thinking that a mere mask and Archanean dialect would be sufficient to keep himself concealed, or maybe he's left an obvious sort of trail. Whatever the case may be, Ezekial does not need to be stricken from history in the same way Camus does. In fact, he believes that if Zeke's name was tied to Sirius, it would dispel the notion that Camus had any involvement in the War of Heroes.

More than anything, he wishes not to give his motherland a reason to lash out in a time of peace, demanding due compensation for the selfish actions of one man.

"You have my apologies for acting dishonestly," he continues, his shoulders losing some of their height and his lips some of their smile, "it is not my intention to lie to the common man, but I trust you understand I have my reasons."

He frees his hand and becomes Sirius again, speaking with his raspy tone and notable lack of Zeke's pride, "If my service to the Deliverance means anything to you... I would ask that you only use my true name when we are in private."