urvanswrath

[urvanswrath]

He moves to shake Darios' hand, solid and firm. Ah, the boy was nervous. It happens. Quite respectful of him to call him 'sir', though he'd rather not make this so formal.

"Please, you make it sound like I'm some sort of commander! Just 'mister' is fine, if you really want to. Or even just Greil." Is it too personal if they were on a first-name basis? Younger folk tend to prefer names over titles...

When he returns his attention to Ike, he takes note of his son's expression and his explanation. "Hmm. Are you sure about that?" Greil comments, unconvinced. "At least he's making them as an early morning snack, from the sounds of it. The last time I heard, you were living off of them."

Better get his housemate's testimony to make sure. His glance slowly returns to the black-haired man. "... Unless he's improved himself since then?"

[ @grxstnnefealltoir ]

ike's dad has got it going on

college AU

[urvanswrath]

This is the first time in a while Greil had seen his son in person. Not only that, he'll also be meeting with Ike's friend for the first time. He heard plenty of things about this Darios person... and judging from how much Ike speaks of him in their texts and calls, he must be a rather close friend as well.

Stepping into the restaurant, he immediately notices that familiar head of blue hair. Both of those boys seem to be looking his way, watching as if he's some sort of celebrity.

Once he approaches their table, he gives Ike and the black-haired man, presumably Darios, a smile and a nod of acknowledgement before settling into the empty seat.

"Ike! Been a while, eh?" He briefly speaks to Ike, then turns his gaze towards the other man. "He probably already told you by now. I'm his father. Nice to meet you."

With a chuckle, he lays both elbows over the table. "I hope my son hasn't caused you any trouble, haha."

[ @radiantpaths @grxstnnefealltoir ]

ike's dad has got it going on

college AU

[urvanswrath]

[ SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN ] Lonato instructed the brigand to put on his best behaviour—avoid getting into fights, don't use course language, act as the noble he was. Miklan tolerated it. No matter what ridiculous dance contest or waltz he endured, or what stilted small talk he had to partake, or whatever bullshit intel Lonato needed him to collect. He kept his cool. Until now. "Open the fucking door! I'll gut you little shits and sell you back to your parents in pieces!" Being trapped in a closet with some ratty old mercenary for the past three minutes was the thing that did him in. Slamming his fist against the door to drown out the giggles from the other side, whatever obscenities he shrieked at the brats weren't going to let him out.

He was told that if he played this game, he’d get a fresh set of clothes to compensate after a long night of rain. Certainly not a fair wager, he’d find out, yet he was eager to wear something more comfortable than a currently-air-drying tunic.

Greil had been wedged in this closet with this guy for about three minutes, though the way the other man’s been pounding at the door makes it seem like an eternity.

“You done wasting your breath?”

The words come out a bit more stern than Greil would prefer. He doesn’t like being stuck in a small, enclosed space with a stranger either, but the one in front of him sure has a temper.

His torso had been uncomfortably pressed against the stiff metal of the other man’s chestplate. It’s a miracle that this closet can fit the two of them... Knowing how prevalent magic is, he wouldn’t be surprised if whoever came up with this concept made it intentionally along the lines of just cramped enough.

… And it very much isn’t helping that this man was constantly shifting their already packed position. “Just stay still until the time’s up. Surely a knight like you would know how to do that?” 

[urvanswrath]

Greil continues watching the figure, trudging through the sand as if they’ve completely forgone their sense of sight. Their words are a bit hard to make out in the rain, but it’s clear that they’re struggling to walk in this weather.

When they take a couple more steps forward, he makes a decision then and there. The man unties his cape and starts rushing out of the cave. 

His voice is loud, almost commanding yet without a sliver of anger. “This way! Keep your head down and follow my lead!” 

Greil lays the cape, muddled yellow cloth draped atop the both of them while he puts a guiding hand over the young man’s back, urging him towards the cave. No wonder he had trouble getting over… The boy looked like a mess, his hair and clothes ruined and all.

He wipes the water off his own face and takes the boy’s arm, slinging it over his shoulder so that it’d be easier to drag him towards the cave. 

Finally, when they reach shelter, he makes sure the rain is no longer enveloping them before pulling the cloth off, now heavy with rainwater.

“You’ve got grime all over you. I suggest taking the cape off for now so it doesn’t weigh you down.”

[ CAVES ] - There is a collection of caves that some on the beach might have ducked into in order to find cover from the elements. It’s cold, and you can hear the wind whistle as you huddle deep within the dark, waiting the storm out…

The evening of this ball has certainly been memorable for him so far. Reunions–both good and, unfortunately, ugly. A variety of things to see and things to do. He thought the enormous amount of guests and the grandiosity of it all would deter him from doing anything besides hop in for a drink or two.

Little did he know that just beyond the horizon, an incoming storm starts to brew… Literally.

BOOM! CRASH!

The downpour brings him unpleasant memories, and while he’s not one to fear many things–much less the elements themselves–the sound of relentless rain and thunder makes him run for the nearest form of cover he could find. Greil spots an opening within the nearby cliff and makes his way towards it, using his cape as a makeshift umbrella.

Upon heading into the cave, he makes a quick assessment of his surroundings. A snuffed out torch sitting in kicked up sand, two lounge chairs that are still in decent shape, and a small hole with a faint, warm light on the other side–presumably peeking into a cave system further in. 

He spots a figure maneuvering across the beach past flying beach decorations, trying to seek refuge. “Hey! Over here! Quickly!” They’re too far away for Greil to run over to cover them himself, but the least he can do is bring their attention to the cave so that they could join him.

Dark skies and pounding rain cloaked the figures of those struggling across the beach. Wet sand clumped around their feet, making each step more tedious than it ought to be. Soaked, exhausted bodies stumbled and fell, and Alfonse did his best to help them back to their feet, darting from person to person in his hurry to help as many as possible reach shelter. The conditions were dismal and quickly getting worse. The people needed refuge.

It was exhausting work to be certain. Only once Alfonse was the only one left on this stretch of the beach did he notice that he had become covered in clods of dirt and sand in the process. The outfit his mother had painstakingly crafted for him was soaked and filthy, his father's fur cloak matted. He looked miserable to be certain, dismayed and tired, worrying about the disappointment he would see in his mother's eyes when he returned the outfit to her ruined after a single outing in it.

A deep boom reached Alfonse's ears, though it was not thunder, but a thunderous voice calling out to him. Azure eyes turned upwards, focusing on the figure waving him over. A flash of lightning on the horizon briefly illuminated the man, though its brightness left him little more than a silhouette. Broad shoulders and strong features were all Alfonse could make out in the moment, and for just a second, he could only think of one man, the man whose muddied cloak was draped limply across his shoulders.

"F... Father?" He mumbled, stumbling closer. He had heard rumors of the king's ghost stalking Askr's castle grounds, but was it possible for him to have followed Alfonse to Fódlan?

No. It wasn't. Alfonse blinked, rubbing at his bleary eyes in a vain attempt to clear them. The act only pushed sand and salt into them, rewarding his attempt to see more clearly with blurrier vision and burning eyes. He shook his head, a small hiss of frustration leaving him as he stumbled blindly ahead.

"I-I can't-- where are you?" Alfonse shouted back, eyes shut tight against the self-inflicted pain. He forced his leaden feet to move forward, trying to head in the direction of the voice. It couldn't be Gustav, he knew that, but the image that lingered in his mind was of his father standing over him, shielding him from Hel when she had come to claim the consequences of the curse she had struck Alfonse with. He felt every bit as helpless as he had then.

[urvanswrath]

Fortunately, Shez got a good grip. Far more nimble than Greil is, and if it weren’t for the flimsy branch giving up on him, he bets he would’ve been able to scale the tree like a squirrel. He tugs the boy off the ground, not bothering to hide the amused laugh that escapes him. “If I had to be honest, we’re better off wrangling them back to town alive than attempting to kill them here.” Part of it is simply in jest, but the longer they venture into these woods, the more Greil is starting to believe in it.

His arm is out of shape, so he wonders if there’s even a chance that he could aim a bow right. If Shinon were here, he would’ve invited him over on their hunting trip. Maybe he could’ve taught Shez a thing or two about how to aim in the right direction.

Greil hums to himself. “Let’s keep going. Those turkeese won’t come to us.”

Further and further they go, past trees and bushes. This is supposed to be where they’re found, yet the place is as bird-free as can be. Surely, they could find at least one of these things…

Greil pauses in his tracks by the sound of a distant rustle in the foliage. He raises a hand for Shez to stay low and follow his lead. The older man crouches, reaches for the bow and tries to pull back the string only for his arm to stiffen up, as expected. If it comes down to it, he could simply throw an arrow as if it were a dart. If he could throw a human boy up a tree, that should be feasible…

He watches the turkeese walking around at a leisurely pace and waits... Until the right moment strikes.

THUNK!

The arrow goes flying, and he hears the cry of a turkeese. If he actually landed a hit, he’d be impressed with himself. But no, upon checking where it had landed, the only thing the arrow had impaled was a feather against a tree.

“... We’re going to need to come up with an actual strategy for this one.” Greil sighs, pulling out the arrow and taking hold of the feather. “You’re the more agile one. Any ideas?”

this one's for you boy (misses the shot)

BOW +1 ⟋ greil + m!shez

[urvanswrath]

In an effort to study some general Fódlan history, Greil has decided that today he’ll go to the library.

Garreg Mach appears to be the melting pot of three nations–the Adrestian Empire, the Kingdom of Faerghus and the Leicester Alliance. Plenty different from the kingdoms in Tellius. No nation is perfect–some merely hide their skeletons better than others. If he's to continue working in this land, he might as well study up on its past.

“Ah, good sir. Have you heard of this one book about knightly conduct? It happens to be the talk of the town lately. The Faerghus territory is well-known for their exceptional knights, so if you’re interested in learning its culture, it’s a good place to start...”

That’s what the librarian told him when asked for book recommendations. However, searching through the shelves as directed led him nowhere but an empty space where the book should be.

Deep blue, hard cover, with a man riding a lion in front… Those were the only descriptors he had to work with.

It was by pure chance that when he glances around the library, he spots a pink-haired boy at a table, reading a book with just that appearance. The only thing that makes him raise a brow is how the boy looks oddly… disturbed.

With a hand on his hip, Greil approaches him. No harm in asking. “That’s ‘Regarding Knights and Chivalry’, isn’t it? Is it any good?”

[ @roseraurea ]

this book? gnarly

PEARLESCENT - LANCE + 1 ⟋ greil + kliff.

[urvanswrath]

He might not know anything about this Verdane place nor House Dozel, but at least he now knows that she’s a noble.

“I can handle the cold just fine. I’m more concerned about you hurting yourself because of the way you’re swinging that thing.” Greil gestures to the axe in her possession. It’s one of those one-handed axes, however she’s holding onto the handle with both hands–probably to compensate for her small stature. “I’m no professor nor instructor, though I can teach you a thing or two if you’d like.”

Is it allowed for a random person like him to intervene in her studies like this? Whatever the answer is, his willingness to help her out exceeds the need to follow rules to a T, if such a rule exists.

“Have you any experience in other types of close-ranged weapons? Or is this your first?”

Axe-pt yourself

[urvanswrath]

may activity check

TOTAL SKILL POINTS ⟋ 6

SKILL POINTS ACQUIRED ⟋ 1

BREAKDOWN: passed monthly activity check - +1 any skill

ALLOCATED SKILL POINTS ⟋ stats page

Authority - D -> D+

FINISHED THREADS ⟋

equal to gods, that man - 901 words

[urvanswrath]

Another day, another job to fulfill. 

Greil isn’t quite used to tasks as mundane as going on a shopping trip on behalf of the Officer’s Academy yet. Although, when the pay is decent enough, he puts himself up to the task. The list he’s given is such: tableware, table decor, and candlelights for tables…

Guess this is merc work nowadays.

When he stops by the store written on the note, he tries to find the nearest shelves where they keep the tablecloths to check if the make is indeed what the academy's looking for. Greil’s more used to shopping in the outdoor markets, but he figures to search on his own before asking any shophands for assistance. 

As he ventures out of the glassware section and towards the fabrics, he sees that his path is blocked by a man who’s even larger than he is, mulling over something. If it weren’t for the two other people browsing behind Greil, he would’ve just left this area and headed for another. He’s not really in a hurry. And so, he waits.

And waits…

Until the lack of movement from the other man makes him raise his brow. “... Excuse me–”

“Are you the Dheginsea? Oh… I can’t believe I ran into you here! I’m your biggest fan!”

It seems on the opposite side of the man in his way is a boy about Ike’s age, full of enthusiasm and awe. Apparently, that gargantuan man’s name is Dheginsea. Greil sees a sliver of the boy’s head peek towards his direction, and mistakenly–Greil will soon come to find out–makes eye contact with the admirer. “I-Is that your friend? Wow…” The boy stutters. 

“You're mistaken, boy–”

“I hope it isn’t too much for me to ask, but I would LOVE to accompany you two for a bit! Just to see what strong guys get up to! I’ll even help you shop! I insist!”

Greil sighs through his nose. He could use the help, and this lad probably means well, so, maybe he could entertain this for a bit...

[ @old-scalebag ]

no this isn't dilf city go away

PEARLESCENT ⟋ greil + dheginsea.

[urvanswrath]

wanted plots - june

Hello! New mission board means new prompts!

As usual, Discord DMs or pings in the plotting channel preferred. Tumblr IMs are alright for the dash-only folks, just keep in mind that it might take me longer to check.

NON-MISSION BOARD: [SWORD +1] - Greil is a big man. He's doing bodyguard stuff. Join him. [LANCE +1] - He was a knight once. Watch him do the Math lady meme trying to rationalize whatever bogus advice he reads from this book. [CLINGY LOVER] - This would be very funny. 'Nuff said.

[urvanswrath]

[ JOUST ] - Impress someone by sparring with them by the shoreline or fighting for their honor while they watch from the seating area. The Adrestians know how to put on a good show, so why not take advantage of the beautifully decorated space by the sea? Use stage weapons that are both impressive and humorous to create an entertaining experience!

---

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Crowed a fancy-clad crier, in an accent that sounded like it was coming straight out of his nose. "We thank you all for gathering this evening to witness the latest in our spectacular series of duels! And we'd also like to thank our generous guests, who have agreed to…finest the Monastery has to…sponsored by the…"

...And those were the last pieces of the man's speech Ares bothered to catch.

His attention was much better spent on squeezing in warm-ups and last-minute weapon checks, whilst he sized up his competition for this bout.

A novice might see the older man and think him an easy target, but Ares had seen his type before. Lived and traveled with them for most of his life, and cut down just as many.

That was why his hardened look he shot the man was so knowing -- mercenaries always could recognize another in the trade, no matter what age and clothes they were disguised with.

It was disappointing, actually. As Ares ran his fingers along the dulled blade, lined with frills and terribly imbalanced, all he could think about was what this could have been like with real weapons.

But he had to keep in mind what the point of this mock fight actually was, and that was the charms competitors were told to exchange with opponents afterwards. Their version of sportsmanship, as they'd explained it.

"…And now! Without further ado, may I now present the competitors!" Finally their cues came, and when the crier gestured to Ares, he took to his side of the makeshift arena drawn in the sand.

"You stand before the Black Knight Ares," he declared to his opponent, no different than how he had done so many times on the actual battlefield.

"And that does not change no matter the weapon I wield."

The announcer and his dramatic cadence, the small crowd of nobles that had gathered to watch them–it’s all a bit over-the-top for a simple faux battle. Though, Greil supposes this is just part of the culture.

The axe in his hands is decorated with flowers, clearly more ceremonial than practical in shape. If there’s one thing, it’s that no matter how dull the blade is, it’s still capable of dealing much brute force in the right hands. He looks up from examining his weapon to get a look at his opponent, a boy with clear experience in the art of battle. When they exchange glances, Greil is comparatively more relaxed than the man standing before him.

They get into stance, and as the boy introduces himself with the tone befitting of a proper duel, Greil stares at him for a beat longer.

… The Black Knight?

It can’t be…

That title takes him back to that fateful day… a battle that determined Greil’s very life. One that his son bear unfortunate witness to.

His fingers tense on the weapon’s handle for a brief moment when he hears it, but he’s certain this isn’t the same person as them.

“The name’s Greil.” He doesn’t listen to the announcer’s words, merely speaks once his hand gestures over to his direction. Greil almost forgets that this is supposed to be a leisurely spar.

When the announcer tells them to take a step forward, he does as told. The older man gives Ares a small smile, a mixture of confidence and acknowledgement as he begins slowly approaching with axe in tow. He can hear the crowd hold their breath in suspense. “We can have a proper chat once this is done. For now…”

With both hands he raises his axe, taking courtesy of the first strike.

“...We’ll let our blades do the talking!”

[urvanswrath]

[ TOWEL ] The storm was sudden and still raging, many of the attendees soaked through their gowns and finery. Gerome's own feathered cape has lost its luster, but his attire isn't his priority. It's handing out towels to those in need. "Here." He offers one now to a taciturn looking man and as he does he notices the glint of a bracelet and charms. Without thinking about it, he asks, "Are you collecting the charms?"

The charms seem the least of anyone's concern with this storm but he's already brought up the topic. Gerome offers one of his turtle charms. "If you are."

Fortunately, Greil did indeed manage to make it back to where most of the ball-goers had retreated, even if his only set of clothes got a little soaked. It’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with in the past, and he’s not one to get sick so easily from a bit of water.

Nonetheless, when he is offered a towel from a young man, he takes it gratefully.

“Me? It certainly isn’t the first thing on my mind right now. But I can indulge.” With a deft hand he removes a turtle charm of his own and places it in the man’s palm. Their turtles are of slightly different colors, Greil notices. “Thanks, young man.”

[urvanswrath]

[ CAVES ] + [ TOWEL ]

As much as he was certain that there would be people braving the storm, it was the smarter play to find somewhere to hunker down and wait for it to pass. Raven had to hope that not everyone at this academy had the heart of a hero, and the head of one who wanted to survive instead.

"Ah," he said, taking the few steps farther into the dark of the cave, blinking as his eyes adjusted and finding himself pleasantly surprised to find the older man there. He cocked his head, eyes narrowed as he attempted to place a name to the face and could not. "Apologies, I hadn't expected anyone to be here. Thankful, to have a place to escape the rain, even for a moment."

Thankful, too, that there seemed to be a stock of supplies nearby, though by whom they were placed there he could have no way of knowing. Kneeling, he dug for a moment, retrieved a stone of flint, and a towel - this, along with a pearl, he tossed to the other man.

"If you give me a moment, I can have a fire started. Should warm up in here, and after a quick rest, I'll take my leave."

Because unfortunately, he did have a hero's heart, in spite of all of his attempts to quash it.

There aren't many ways to kill time while waiting out the storm. Greil’s cape had been draped over a rock to dry, with water dripping off the corners. It did better shielding the rest of Greil from the elements, though like with all cloth fabrics they could only do so much. He’d stripped off a layer off his top with an attempt to fan the moisture out.

“Well, at least you’re safe here in the meantime.” He momentarily glances at the man, catching the towel and the pearl, “I was starting to wonder if I was the only one with the idea to hide away in these caves.”

Now that he has something to dry himself off, he rubs the towel over his head, ruffling his own hair. The mess isn't something to concern over -- usually, his hairdo will just fix itself within a few combs of the hand once it's dry. “Haha, you're asking me as if I own the place. Do what you want. I suggest staying here until the rain lets up.” The company and the pearl charm are also a nice little bonus aside from the man's help.

[urvanswrath]

Ephraim has seen the custom of trading charms among the ball attendees. It's important to take part in such traditions, so the next time he crosses paths with another, he pulls off one of his charms. "Well met, I'm Ephraim, King of Renais. Please, accept this token." He hands the man one of his anchor charms.

The chatter of guests and the large, grandiose hallways decorated with everything that screams ‘noble house’ is something Greil hasn’t experienced in a long time. Right now, the old man is simply wandering around the premises, wondering what delicacies to try or activities to partake in while he’s here.

He is approached by someone who is apparently a king. Not of a nation that Greil knows of, but it will still do him good to be polite all the same.

“Good to make your acquaintance. Call me Greil.” He nods in acknowledgement, handing a turtle charm in exchange. “Thank you. You can have one of my own as well.”

[urvanswrath]

The way Shinon’s said it is as if Greil had purposefully abandoned them, left them to fend for themselves. It leaves out any implications that the ex-commander was defeated and left to bleed out to death. It’s ignorant at best and cruel at worst.

If anyone else were in Greil’s shoes, they would surely have an outburst of their own.

But, despite the hurt he feels from Shinon’s words, his expression remains neutral. There’s no point in escalating this further.

He approaches the marksman and takes hold of his fist, placing one of his turtle charms into his palm. Then, he gives the man one last look in the eyes. He’s neither sad nor angry. Only disappointed that their reunion had turned out this way.

Greil is left with no other choice but to just turn around and leave.

Perhaps after Shinon’s emotions have mellowed out and he moves on, they can have a proper conversation.

end.

equal to gods, that man

sappho 31, trans. anne carson

[urvanswrath]

[ CROWDED ]

It... could not be.

It could just as well be any other man.

But it had been quite a few years since Elincia last saw him, and even then, their acquaintance hadn't been very long. Perhaps a matter of weeks, during the journey into Gallia, and yet...

He looked so much like Sir Greil.

Elincia lingers at a distance, unsure of how to approach the man. Unsure of what she was even seeing. She heard from Lord Ike and the others that Greil had been felled in Gallia. She saw the anguish on the faces of everyone in that mercenary company, as they grieved their father and leader.

It was a pain Elincia had known all too well at the time, connecting her to the mercenaries in such a familiar, tangible pain.

So how could he be... here? Surely it was just someone with a striking resemblance...?

Before she could decide what to do next, she catches the man's gaze.

He was trying to scan the sea of faces for any folks he might recognize. Surprisingly enough, his eyes land on none other than that Princess of Crimea. Or, Queen of Crimea, more like. He might have died before he was able to see her properly escorted to Gallia, but to see her standing well means that everything turned out just fine.

Seeing as they’ve now noticed each other, he decides to make his way over to her, past the crowds of people navigating the ballroom.

“Queen Elincia.” Greil nods with a relaxed smile. “Good to see you here. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” She must be just as surprised by his presence. The man plucks one of his turtle charms and offers it to her.

“To think we’d meet again in a foreign land, at this very ball no less. I hope those mercs treated you well while I was gone.”

[urvanswrath]

He thought this was going to be an endearing moment between them. A heartwarming reunion just like what had happened between the rest of his family. If so, why is Shinon still gripping onto him so tightly with that familiar sharpness of his tongue mixed with tears? Why is he so angry?

Is it that Greil doesn’t know why? Or that he doesn’t want to know?

When the archer accuses him, that’s when it clicks. His tears aren’t because of overwhelming joy or happiness. He’s desperate. Very much so. 

Greil stares at him, the lighthearted expression fading from his face. There’s a silence between them, but it’s not the particularly comforting kind. There’s a temptation to wipe Shinon’s tears and comfort him, but he knows this won’t be taken lightly. He needs to shut this down before it gets out of hand.

“... No.” He speaks plainly. “I understand now.”

He lets go of Shinon and takes a step back.

“I’ve always cared for you, Shinon. Just like the others from the company. You’re a reliable one, and I could tell that despite the trouble we went through, you cared for everyone else just as much.”

A sigh. “But engaging with affairs of the heart is not something I do. It’s not going to happen. I’m sorry.”

This is for the best, he thinks. Giving Shinon an answer as to why would only complicate things. The last time he ever entertained the thought of loving someone, it only ended in disaster.

So, he won’t.

equal to gods, that man

sappho 31, trans. anne carson