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drabblesandimagines · 8 months

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400 request. Can I get a happy ending with Clive? Thank you!

Thank you so much for your request! <3 I hope you enjoy x Promises Clive Rosfield x fem reader, established relationship Major endgame spoilers! 1,140 words

From dawn to dusk, day after day from when Origin fell from the sky, you've waited on the pier, keeping your eyes on the horizon. It's better to stay in the one place, you reason, though it's hard. He could be hurt, convalescing somewhere until he's well enough to travel. And now that the stolas magic is gone, it’s going to take far longer to send word places and receive it back - if you left the Hideaway in search, he could return in your absence.

So you stay, even though your heart aches.

There are pity-filled glances from all directions. You move to the side to allow the Cursebreakers to board the skiff heading over to the mainland. They’re away to help people adjust to the new age – how to cope without the Mothercrystals providing for them any longer.

"I'm not sure this is healthy, like." Gav comments, a bowl of stew in hand. Everyone seems to constantly bring you sustenance – they must have a rota, Tarja, Jill, Otto, Gav - as if you could fill the gnawing hole within with food. "He-"

"Is coming back." You cut him off firmly, taking the offered bowl. "Clive promised he’s coming back. I just need to be patient."

Gav starts another protest but then hesitates, swallowing his rebuttal altogether. There’s a further pause as he scans the horizon, placing his hands on his hips. "How long are you going to wait like this?"

You blow on a spoonful of the stew. "As long as it takes."

Sleep has been difficult. His smell lingers on the sheets – a combination of musk, ash and just something that is uniquely Clive. You could return to your bunk but it doesn’t seem right. When you close your eyes and you’re somewhere in the between of being awake and asleep, you can almost pretend you've buried your face in his side, rather than his pillow.

On the sixth day, a small sail boat appears on the horizon near dusk, or at least you think that’s what it is. You'd been staring most of the day and there’s a worry that it could be a mirage conjured from wishful thinking after staring so hard at nothing for hours. Otto had lent you a spyglass, though somewhat reluctantly – should he be encouraging this behaviour? You knew they all thought you were in the depths of grief, deluding yourself sitting out here, day after day.

But Clive had promised, and he'd never broken a promise before, so why should you think he’d start now?

You hold up the spyglass to your eye with a shaky hand, trying to steady it so you can actually look, but it’s no use. The boat has dipped off the horizon, or perhaps it wasn’t there at all.

You rub your eyes as you walk slowly up the pier – you need sleep.

It takes a while for sleep to come, but you must’ve drifted off eventually because something wet nuzzles at your cheek, proceeding to lick you across your face relentlessly.

“What is it, Torgal?” Your voice is heavy with sleep as you reluctantly open your eyes. It was one of the more solid sleeps you’d had in a while, but the wolf won’t have woken you without purpose.

Torgal barks once, his tail wagging from side to side, and he trots over to the door. You get to your feet – it’s still the dead of night, but he must sense something. You dress quickly to protect yourself against the chill and follow the wolf as he leads you to the lift and down towards the end of the dock. He sits down, tail banging against the planks, and howls into the sky.

As if in response, a sail boat – the same from earlier that day? – emerges from the mist and illuminated by the moon’s warm glow you can see the lone figure that steers it without an eyeglass.

Clive. Your heart skips a beat as it sinks in – no Joshua, no Dion.

But it is Clive.

The boat collides into the pier with a thud and he flings a rope out to secure the vessel. You bend down and grab it in shaking hands, looping it around the cleat in a knot that Obolus would’ve raised a judgemental eyebrow at, but it’ll hold and that’s all that matters.

You don’t wait for him to get off the boat - you can’t - instead jumping from the dock, causing the vessel to rock violently side to side in your enthusiasm as you land, truly putting your knot to the test, but how could you stand there? You cup his face, your hands still shaking from adrenaline. You can tell he’s weary, dark circles under his eyes but he’s here, he’s real.

“I told them you were coming back.” Your voice breaks, the tears you’ve held in for days finally flowing down your cheeks. “I told them.”

“I made you a promise, my lady.” His voice is thick as he holds in his own tears.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, though something feels off about the embrace. There isn’t much time to pinpoint what exactly, as Torgal jumps into the boat and knocks you both down, happily licking his master’s face.

“Hello, boy.” He laughs, breathlessly, patting the wolf hound on the head. “I’m sorry to have kept the both of you waiting.”

Torgal barks happily in acknowledgement, before backing up and jumping back onto the pier. It’s as if he knows the two of you need this moment alone. Clive raises a hand to caress your face then, wiping away some tears with his thumb. You lean down and kiss him - soft, frantic kisses, tanged with salt. His arm wraps around your waist, but something cold and hard rests on your back instead of a warm palm and you sit up in realisation. He sits up slowly after you, holding the limb in front of his chest.

“Oh, my darling…” You touch his petrified fingers delicately, afraid that they may break. “Does it hurt?”

“No. It spread no further than my elbow, though it should’ve.” He sounds almost bitter.

“Don’t say that.”

“It should have, for the amount of power I wielded… But all I could think about was what I promised you, my lady. I’m sorry it took me so long to return to you – a row boat was no longer in question.” He jokes, but it doesn’t sound sincere. He hesitates, staring at his hand, doubt in his voice. “Will… Will you still have me?”

“Always…” You take both of his hands in yours, no hesitation. “..and in all ways, Clive. I love you.”

He leans his forehead against yours. “As do I, my darling one. I love you – always, and in all ways.”

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

#ghostdogwrites #final fantasy xvi #clive rosfield #clive rosfield x reader #clive rosfield x you #clive rosfield fluff #ffxvi x reader

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kiashie · 7 months

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Clive/Gav headcanons/rambles/???

remembering i can post whatever i want once again so i'm posting some clive/gav headcanons since i was talking to a friend about our desires for character study slowburn but also our lamentations that we are not fic writers. and how barely anybody else is talking about this ship. so here's the compiled thoughts i've had. (there's more of them than i thought)

(gripping you) think about it with me :) (writers feel free to steal these thoughts as ammunition)

______________________________________________________________

It's very 'Gav falls first, Clive falls harder'. Gav's got eyes, he see's what we all see and as he sees the kind of man Clive is and he's gonna fall deeper. and he also may think he's out of Clive's league. - Clive's got enough self resentment that he isn't even sure he's allowed to love again. the subject of 'loving somebody' is likely barely on the table in his mind yet after 13 years of spite and revenge, he still needs to catch up. Jill may put it on the table as it was maybe something they once felt, or something they were once expected to have; but they're different people now, trying to find themselves in their new space to do so. And during that time Gav is waiting for that 'will they wont they' to unfold.

Clive has spent a lot of time having to be physically violent against his will, so i think he enjoys getting to actually touch people affectionately for once - which we see for ourselves flusters Gav. as Gav grows accustomed to and even reciprocating of it (Gav having his growing crush and deciding to take what he can get) Clive's very glad with how comfortable he can be around Gav without consciously thinking too hard about it. along with how much i think Clive respects and admires Gav for everything he does, he's glad to continue being physically affectionate to show his appreciation.

Clive reflects on how for 13 years he had nothing to sincerely smile for while stuck as a hateful miserable soldier, and even before then under his mother they were few and far between. and as he's finding his footing for the first time in forever this funny breath of fresh air comes along and suddenly he's smiling. often even. And he can't even remember the last time his smile felt real. The last time he laughed so hard, eventually to the point where it's hard enough to make his chest hurt. that he doesn't quite feel like he's drowning.

he tries not to think too hard when Gav gets either giddy or flustered when he's praised lest the word "cute" fill his head. How he thinks Gav deserves all those kind words every time.

He and Gav have had their quiet moments over the years of the timeskip, and maybe somewhere earlier in the timeline than what happens in the game before joshua's returned, Gav's brings up earlier; "i never got to be a big brother" - losing his family in one night - and instead him relating to Clive on the feeling of failing to protect and save a younger sibling. in that vulnerable moment maybe Gav musters up asking 'was being a big brother nice? atleast for a little while?'. and they can mourn together the lost chances, pressure, and pride.

Along the way Clive picks up that Gav's jokes are how he gets by with the darker thoughts, the self doubts, the feeling of not being enough. and he comes to appreciate the Gav that isn't just trying to make him laugh or ease up, the Gav that is also struggling, that makes reminding him he's special continue to mean more to him. when he wants to be the one that also makes Gav smile and laugh and be happy to be alive in return

Gav's a man who's never been good at fancy words, and suddenly he wants to be a poet because he needs a way to describe the feelings he has. As he lets Clive see all his doubts and flaws but never being shamed for it, continuing to be treated by Clive's kindness, he cherishes feeling legitimately seen and cared for despite his weakness. and he feels like the most honoured man alive whenever Clive confides his struggles in him more and more too

everybody has been watching these two insufferably pine, Gav being more self aware and self concious, while Clive not even figuring out his own feelings yet for so long doesn't realize that he's obvious to everyone else :)

When Clive finally puts all the points together, being struck with the realization he's in love. the subsequent question "oh fuck is that allowed", and is laying in that bed hands in his hair staring wide eyed at the ceiling utterly stricken. But Clive, always the driven man, will eventually resolve to let Gav know, because he thinks Gav deserves that much. to let him know how grateful he is to know how to love someone - him - like this.

a leader and his scout to guide eachother :)

#ffxvi #ff16 #clive rosfield #gav ffxvi #clive/gav #clive x gav #firescout #scoutlaw #headcanons #? i guess?#ff16 spoilers #ffxvi spoilers #kia rambles

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mergeman · 1 year

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Inheritance

This is my first time using AI images let me know what you think

The deceased farmer could only morn as he spent year after year watching the land he had worked so hard for crumble to time. He had lived a full life to the ripe old age of 92, had six kids who in turn had kids, who they themselves had kids of their own.

None of these descendants though had visited the farm in the 79 years since he had passed, so the ghost could only watch as his lives work slowly disintegrated.

That was until she came along. The old specter could feel his blood in her veins and became excited to see her on his land. She had been coming for just over 2 years now but she did nothing but take sketches and wonder the old property. The farmer wanting to know what her plans were got closer then he ever had before only to discover she was drawing rows and rows of ugly little homes! He tried everything in his power to knock the sketch book from her hands. Growing more and more frustrated at his impotence the normally calm ghost let loose all of his anger and rushed at the young woman.

Claire's POV

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was another hot day on this god forsaken piece of shit land, my grand inheritance from my Great Uncle.

ugh..... Shivers

That was weird its been hot and dry all day long, where did that frigged blast of cold air come from? I crossed my arms as I became aware that I might not be alone out here.

"Hello?" I called out into the summer void

Mine!

Was the last thing I heard before my body spasmed.

It was just a moment and then I was picking myself up off the dusty ground. I stumbled as I tried to find my balance, my body seemed heavy and bloated.

I called out again. "hello? who are you? show yourself"

Mine! It's Mine, and you will not have it!

I doubled over as wave after wave of pain washed over me. I scrambled to find my cell phone in the dusty earth.

There!!!

It was hidden underneath the fallen sketches. I grabbed it and hit redial so it would call my fiancé Trevor. After the 3rd ring I hear a deep male voice say hey babe.

"Trevor you gotta come here now. Somethings wron....wrong... wi... wit.... with me!" My voice was cracking under the strain of the pain.

"Babe ill be ri" click

I look in horror as my finger hits the end call button.

Then something controlled my arm and threw the phone into the nearby bushes.

It's Mine, not yours! You will not take it!

Oh My Fucking God. The Voice Was In My Head!!!!!

Who the fuck are you? I thought at (it/him?)

No girl is gonna curse at me on my own land!

Oh I can now feel him invading me, changing me.

Get the hell out of me you fucking piece of shit.

I could feel him moving around stretching me from the inside. No mattered what I tried nothing seemed to stop him.

I was helpless as my body grew more masculine. Hair sprouted on my boobs which in turn were quickly changed into an impressive set of pecs. My torso widened and my arms got heavy with the added muscles.

Mine, I want it all, You'll never take my land

I could see him now! He's just an old man.

I use my will to push at him, but nothing seems to work!

In fact the more I push the less like myself I feel.

Get out of me you old codger.

My body kept changing as I could feel him taking me over piece by piece.

Most of what was me is fading fast. He was winning. Hell even if I could somehow remove him would i be stuck like this or return to normal?

These questions danced in my head as the last of me was being consumed.

Yes!! Mine It's all Mine, They will never take away our land again!

With the last of what's me I could feel the old bastard be consumed by someone else. No this was something new. No Someone new!

My bodies last bit of femineity died as my clit sealed up and reformed into a cock worthy of the man I'd become.

Everything was on fire as a bright flash.

Clive's POV

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fuck, I'm gettin old, I know 45 is not that old but when you've been working to restore your families farm for the last 25 years it sure takes a toll. What started it as a dilapidated farm is now one of the richest ranches in the state

It would have been harder without my husband Trevor, he has been my rock, and my right hand ever his folks kicked him out and he came to me to be my farm hand.

Now 17 years later we've adopted 6 kids and life couldn't be more hectic or fun. I owe it all to my Inheritance.

#merge #ai artwork #ai art generator #age progression #f2m #f2m transformation

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jim-bones-spock · 4 months

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Okay, alright, here’s my analysis of seasons 5 and 6 of Community, starting with Repilot (an episode that lives rent free in my mind!!!)

Repilot is the epitome of what I’m trying to say, it’s meta and dissecting the very essence of the show, since it’s a literal “do over” (Re-Pilot)

The ironic thing is that Jeff would have succeeded in his law practice if there wasn’t a season 5, but since we need him back at Greendale, Jeff fails.

Hard.

The episode is basically a huge mirror from the pilot episode.

The same character from season 1’s inciting incident, Allan, sends Jeff back to school. We see what Jeff would have become if he didn’t go to Greendale for four years, so we at least have this parallel to go on.

Our Jeff is not that defeated that he would go as low as Allan, right?

Right????

We already see Jeff’s delusion with the world, he’s back to his cynical self, drinking and wallowing. His red tie almost undone vs the red superhero suit in his commercial. It’s already darker but the narrative needs him in school, so it has to be a little extreme.

Then, Jeff goes back to Greendale. Immediately Leonard is there, blowing raspberries. Jeff sees his and Annie’s trophy. We’re having a much better time, even if it’s not for a long time.

Because Greendale has turned the camp and the chaos and the sheer stupidity to eleven. Because the narrative needs to remind us of how detached from reality the school is. Because it’s a TV show. There’s a class about ladders, for god’s sake.

It needs to be this wacky because the show has now shifted to: We’re gonna save Greendale. We’re gonna save the show, like it’s been saved on Yahoo.ca, whatever it takes.

When they get to the study room, the table has been buried - the show has been buried, too, but when everyone comes back (Abed: the Dean called me, I called everyone else) just like the pilot, they put life back into it.

Abed is still Jeff’s mirror here, and suggests that Jeff becomes a teacher at the school, because it would be the most TV-logical thing to do, especially since Jeff got his diploma in education hello!??

I LOVE how Jeff is like absolutely not. He’s still fighting the narrative, trying to make sense of his new role.

The Dean also has a very interesting speech about “Greendale is a good place for good people, that old spiel” basically having a cynical view of seasons 1-3 and making fun of the initial message of the show. We already know this, but Greendale has changed. Or maybe, Jeff has changed and is now starting to see the cracks.

Coming back to the study room, they immediately start to fall back into old patterns of bickering, because they all have something to hide and are too proud to admit they are miserable. Shirley brings them back to reality before they get too far. Once again, rooting us slowly into reality.

Jeff, for his part, forgot how good it felt to be bad. When he beats down Allan with his own tie… woof, that was rough. He takes the tie. Takes charge. Wants his own identity back, because it’s much easier to be bad than good. Much easier to pretend that he doesn’t care, than actually caring. Caring got him hurt.

Then Chang appears and makes fun of the absurdity of his character. It’s easy to see here, because when said out loud, Chang’s development is the most extreme. Like come on, amnesia? Get a grip, show!!!

Jeff then feels he has been robbed of his identity and starts to point out each character’s development:

Britta was an eclectic anarchist. She is now the airhead, which is heartbreaking and I don’t want to think about season 1 Britta too much or I go insane.

Shirley began the show by taking back her independence from her cheating husband and is now the one who cheated ???

Annie lost her go-getter attitude and settled for a job she hates.

Abed, multiple breakdowns. Like, at least one per season.

Troy’s Clive Owen Tumblr (what is his url u think) but no, seriously, always being with Abed and nothing else.

They did ended up like mixed up cartoons, and not only because of the “gas leak year”. They’ve become stereotypes, as sitcom characters often do. They’ve evolved, but perhaps not in the original direction intended, or not where we left then in season 3.

Now, it’s time for them to Get Something Back. Their narratives.

Annie says to Jeff: Greendale is in your hands. And it is. If Jeff talks long enough, he can make the people around him do things. It’s his power. Greendale’s fate is in his hands.

Then, Abed throws his words back at him: you make us see the right truth.

And that could be that Greendale is a place worth saving!!!! Jeff knows that, because, as usual, with one sentence, Abed has thrown off his resolve. Maybe Jeff needs to show them another thruth. But Jeff needs one last convincing first.

The Pierce hologram is my favorite. The fact that only Jeff could see it for some reason, echoes season 1 when Pierce was more of a grumpy grandpa that sometimes gave Jeff some nugget of wisdom and acted like a distorted father figure. Same here.

Jeff walks back in the school, screaming to the Dean about his power to destroy the place. But he won’t do it. He’s so desperate for something to matter once more and for that thing not to be dark and twisted.

And then. And Then. The Dean offers him a job.

Teacher.

The way Jeff looks up as he would be talking to god (non specific) when he whispers “Screw you Abed” as soon as he sees his path laid out for him: become a teacher at the school who, he thinks, stole 4 years of his life. He looks up like he’s delivering a monologue in theater, like he’s alone, like he’s praying.

As you can see, I feel VERY normal about the acting choices.

Screw you, Abed. Screw you, TV show. Screw you, logical way for my character to stay and have the rest of my story be mine, or trying to be.

The table burns, but that’s okay, because they build a new one together. This is truly theirs, now. They have the power to do anything.

And Jeff, well…

Jeff still, in his darkest moments, thought of his friends. In his most ironic moment, looked UP to Abed/his mirror/the narrative and said “Screw you…

…I’ll do it anyway.”

#jeff winger #community #abed nadir #troy and abed #community meta #meta #this got way too long ajdhsiauay #repilot #ramblings #community show

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his-red-right-hand · 5 months

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Chapter 4

An excerpt from notes found written on a yellow legal pad:

I should be mad. I should be furious. Had to rewrite my fucking article.

I never have to change my articles.

Girl came in and fucked up my design, should’ve slit her throat the moment I saw her. Dumb bitch didn’t even have the sense to run. But she sounded so fucking pretty begging for me to kill her though. Looked pretty with her blood all over her too. And when she started crying, fuck.

Had half a mind to shove her down onto her knees and make her beg for my cock, choke her on it until she passed out. Fuck her throat until I finish.

Might do it later, when there’s no risk of being caught. Hell, she wants to die so bad, might as well make herself useful beforehand. Don’t know if I want to gut her or fuck her. Maybe both. Either way, I’ll be rearranging her guts.

She met Jed at the hospital today, she lied to him as well as the cops. Cute she’s already willing to lie for me. And her advice for people to run from me? Is she trying to get on my good side?

Oh, and that little “off the record” confession? Too sweet. Idiot never noticed I didn’t turn off the tape recorder, so I can listen to her say it over and over. Oh, and I intend to.

Meant what I told her though, going to have a long game with her. Even if I did want to fuck her on that hospital bed after she admitted her death wish so nicely. Gonna masturbate to her picture again, maybe as I watch her sleep. Got to keep in control, no matter how tempting it is to just take what I want now. Gotta enjoy the chase first.

Found out from her nurse that she’s getting discharged tomorrow, so I’ll look around her house tonight, see what I can find. Then do a check in with the next name on the list to make sure nothing’s changed, going to be abandoning them for a bit. This new design is going to take some time to plan, but the execution is going to be a helluva good time.

Lives in a fairly shitty one bedroom house, but the backyard’s big and backs onto the woods. Plenty of nice spots to keep watch from, a good view into her bedroom and living room. A little sad there’s nowhere to get a good view into her bathroom, but you can’t have everything.

Backdoor key is hidden under a painted rock next to a chair and a little table: roach in an ashtray. Might be an option to fuck with her there - depends on what her consumption is like.

Inside is cheap everything, a lot of mismatched flea market furniture, except the stereo. And she has a lot of vinyl. Rearranged a few just to fuck with her a little. A pile of mix tapes in a box, all labelled in the same handwriting, so either she makes them or knows one person who does.

Kitchen cupboards were mostly empty, a bunch of instant ramen and some jiffy pop. Fridge was mostly take away containers. She had left milk out on the side that had gone bad. Disposed of it for her, I’m not a complete monster.

Bedroom had some nice discoveries, a bullet vibe in a drawer next to some Clive Barker novel with a few bookmarks. My girl is a freak. Knew I had good taste.

Thought about stealing some of her panties, but I think I’ll wait until she’s back and I can take the pair she was wearing when we met. I’m a romantic like that.

She’s got lots of books, but the dust on the bookcase shows she wasn’t lying about not reading much lately. What the fuck else was she doing?

Whole place has the vibe of a shut-in. The couch looks like she sleeps on it most nights, pizza boxes all around it. Sleeping pills on the coffee table, some heavy duty stuff. Definitely something to mess with in future.

Found her Blockbuster rentals, The Evil Dead and Silence of the Lambs. Hid that one, she should only be thinking about one killer. Maybe I’ll return it for her, it’ll spare her a late fee as well as fuck with her head a bit. Still a bit of a monster.

I was watching when she came home. She checked the front blinds, but didn’t bother with the back windows. Then again I’m the only one here watching. Gave me a nice show, walking around naked for me except for the bandage. Want to see her without it, want to see her with my marks on her. Want to give her so many more.

Watched her get stoned in her backyard wearing just a t-shirt. A guy would normally have to pay for the shows she keeps giving me, can’t wait until she does it knowing I’m watching her. Took some pictures, a few in her natural environment to go with that cute little polaroid I got of her all bloody when we first met.

Hasn’t seemed to notice anything I moved yet, or if she has she’s explaining it away to herself. Gonna have to amp that up over time, until she knows it’s me. Not sure about her taste in music, a bit maudlin for my tastes, but it was kinda catchy in a sad way.

She called a few people, her boss and a couple of friends, they were the only ones who had left her messages. Glad I got the tap set up, gotta keep track of my favourite girl’s social life, doesn’t she know there’s a killer loose? Don’t think she calls the friends often though, which is good for me. They won’t miss her so much once I start taking up her time. And if they do, I can always get rid of the answer machine tapes.

She ended up falling asleep on the couch to The Evil Dead, looking all cute and pouty lying there. Wanted to go in and take those panties, but decided not to risk it just yet. Don’t know how deeply she sleeps. She’s going to work tomorrow, I can come back on Jed’s lunch break and get them then. Maybe do a little more rearranging, maybe leave a present or two. After all, I gotta treat my girl right, don’t I?

Maybe she’d like the pictures I just took of her sleeping, nice and close up through the unlocked backdoor, her shirt riding up enough that you can see where those legs end, and it is quite the view. Such a little exhibitionist for me.

Oh, we’re going to have so much fun together.

#ghostface x reader #ghostface #dead by daylight #dbd #fiction #danny johnson #danny jed olsen johnson

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sunstone-smiles · 1 year

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Hi! I was wondering if you could write something with lee! Clive (Clavell)? I was thinking maybe Juliana is well aware of the fact that Clive and Clavell are the same person, due to how painfully obvious it is. So she decides to mess with him to get him to loosen up and fit in a little more.

A/N: Hello Anon! Cute prompt! I’ve been wanting to write something for Clavell—*Ahem,* or Clive in this case, for a bit now so thanks for sending a request in! Also, thank you so much for your patience! I hope you enjoy!

Young at Heart

Series: Pokemon Scarlet and Violet

Characters: Juliana and Clive (AKA Clavell)

Word count: 1,415

Summary: To get Clive, or Clavell, to act less stiff, Juliana thinks up a playful method that can loosen him up. Enjoy!

—

“Let’s see…” Juliana talks to herself while she glances at her Rotom phone. She walks along a path that’s bordered by a grassy route, where docile pokemon of Deerling, Lechonk, and Litleo wander. “So according to the map, the next Team Star base should be right around…”

“Ah, Juliana. Perfect timing.”

The girl looks up from her phone and notices another student approaching her. He’s attired in the academy’s gray winter blazer, paired with tangerine-colored academy shorts, usually worn in the summer, that don’t match whatsoever. The most prominent feature of all though is the student’s extravagant pompadour hair that swoops towards the clouds. This absurd outfit can only be one person in particular.

“Oh, Clive! Good to see you,” Juliana greets her Operation Starfall partner. “Since you’re here too, I assume the next Team Star base is just up ahead?”

“Your assumption would be correct,” Clive says a little too formally. He clears his throat. “I’ve already scoped out the perimeter. There’s one member standing at the front gate while the rest are waiting inside, so nothing different from the other base we’ve gone to. I also made sure that there were no unexpected traps laid out for us this time as well.”

“Wow, taking it extra seriously today, huh?”

“I don’t want to take any chances.” Clive pauses for a brief moment. “Although, I hope I’m not being too serious. I still like to stay easygoing like my fellow students,” he ends his sentence with both hands moving to slick the sides of his pompadour hair.

Juliana lets out a quiet sigh to herself. Even though this is only the second Team Star base the two are heading towards, Director Clavell is still holding on to his silly Clive persona. It wasn’t hard for Juliana to figure out it was the Director the first time she saw the new “student.” When she questioned him, he would deny all relation to anyone named “Director Clavell” and insisted that she referred to him as “Clive.” Per his request, she went along with his act. She knows that his attempts to hide his appearance is his way of fitting in with his students. On top of this, he wants to find out the truth about Team Star when no one else will. She respects him for that.

Although sometimes the masked appearance becomes a bit too obstructive. Juliana wants to connect more with Director Clavell not Clive, but it’s difficult to do so when he keeps up the whole “fellow student” act. Despite this, she still knows Director Clavell is keeping a watchful eye when hints of his mature authority slip through the guise. His hands are usually positioned behind his back, his posture is rigid, and his gaze observes everything around him, just like he’s doing now.

That settles it then. Before the next Team Star base, Juliana wants to have some fun with him. A game that can let the real Director Clavell shine through, even with the disguise on. Plus, letting loose could help his disguise become more convincing. She scans Clive up and down, focusing on his stiff posture. With this, she thinks up a strategy that she hopes will be effective. Clive had already searched for traps earlier, but now Juliana needs to lure him into one.

“Well, if I’m being honest, Clive,” Juliana responds to his previous comment, “you do seem a little stiff.”

“Stiff?” Clive straightens up his spine on reflex. “How so?” he rolls his shoulders back and tries to act casual.

“You look a little tense, maybe even stressed,” Juliana lays it on thick, “Not very easygoing if you ask me.”

“I see,” Clive pushes up his purple rimmed glasses, slightly anxious due to his charade being put on the spot. “Do you have any suggestions then on how to prevent this stiffness?”

Juliana smiles. Now for the final piece for her disguise wavering puzzle. “As a matter of fact, I do!”

“Oh! That’s good to hear.” Clive watches as the girl casually approaches him. Juliana stops in front of his side. “So what exactly does this strategy consist of—AH!” Clive suddenly flinches when Juliana darts her hands under his blazer to tickle him as fast as a pokemon using quick attack.

“A tickle attack, of course!” Juliana exclaims.

Clive takes a small step back with Juliana’s fingers still locked onto his sides. A wobbly smile tugs at the corners of his mouth while he attempts to suppress the childish giggles bubbling in his throat. “T-Tickling is the strategy?” Clive tries to cover his twitchy smile behind a balled up hand, also turning his head away from the girl to hide his uncharacteristic expression.

“Yep! It’s a perfect method to get almost anyone smiling and to prevent stiffness!” the girl innocently beams while her fingers skitter across his sides and stomach. “So, do you feel loosened up yet?”

“I d-dohohon’t know,” Clive lets some giggles slip out, which allows the rest of the joyful laughter he was holding back to release like a pack of schoolchildren running outside to play. He’s been completely taken aback from the surprise barrage of tickles that he can’t think of a response as Clive, meaning the plan to see more of Director Clavell is working!

“Well, we can’t have that! Time to boost the attack power!”

“Nohohow wahahait a sehehecohohond!” Clive takes another step back, then twists to the side to try and escape, but Juliana catches him by his lower ribs and scribbles her little hands into the fabric of his undershirt to reach the ticklish area.

Clive yelps and squishes his arms to his sides, nearly toppling backwards. “Ohohohoh nohoho! Nohohot the rihihibs!” Immobilized by Juliana’s playful strategy, Clive curls himself up and slides to the ground. Juliana shifts herself to the side of him to keep her tiny fingers caught under his blazer, while Clive repositions himself as a rolled up ball of laughter in an attempt to ward off the tickles.

“Hehe, I didn’t think you would be this ticklish Director Cla—Er. I mean, Clive,” Juliana quickly corrects herself. Luckily for her, Clive was too preoccupied with trying to wriggle away from her fingers fluttering along his tummy that he didn’t notice.

“I fohohohorgot hohohow tihihihicklish I was tohohohoo!” Clive turns onto his side and tries to bury his silly expression in his chest, but Juliana can still see the bright smile on his face.

Despite Director Clavell saying that he feels out of touch with his students, his own laugh is as giddy as a child’s, filled with little squeaks and carefree cheer. Juliana sees that this looser side of himself removes any worry of that disconnection with his students. She’s glad for that.

“Julianahahaha!’ Clive’s exclamation of laughter pulls the girl from her thoughts, “Nohoho more! Nohoho mohohore, plehehease!”

“Oh! Sorry!” Juliana reels back her hands towards her chest, like she has gotten in trouble. Clive leans his head back onto the dirt path, gulping down air that he had lost in the midst of Juliana’s game. He no longer looked as stiff as before, but Juliana fears that she may have “loosened” him up too much.

With worried eyes, she grabs both of his arms and pulls him forward so he can sit upright. “Are you alright Clive?” she leans on her knees.

He must have sensed her concern. Knowing that a student was in need of reassurance, Director Clavell looks up at her with a soft, comforting smile.

“I’m fine,” he responds. “Please, don't worry. As a matter of fact, I feel much less stiff than I did before.”

“You…you do?” Juliana‘s voice quivers. She couldn’t tell if he was just saying that to make her feel better.

“I do,” he speaks with the mature clarity of an academy director. “Thank you.”

After observing his expression, Juliana notices the softness lingering on his face. It’s Director Clavell who was talking to her just now, not Clive. Her method really did help.

“That’s a relief then,” she returns the soft smile. She then lends him a hand back to his feet.

“Now, what are we waiting for?” Juliana swivels to face the path ahead of her. “Look out Team star! Here comes the members of Operation Starfall!” she shouts enthusiastically. Juliana turns to see Clive’s newly relaxed appearance through his disguise. It’s clear to her that he feels more accepted, knowing he’s a part of a team with a caring student by his side.

#A request from Sunstone!#pokemon #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon sv #pokemon clive #pokemon clavell #pokemon juliana #pokemon fanfiction #pokemon fanfic #sfw fanfiction #sfw fanfic #sfw tickle fic #tickle fic

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four-loose-screws · 1 day

Text

FE2 Novelization Translation - Chapter 6 Part 2

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Chapter 6 - The Newly Reborn Kingdom of Zofia

Part 2 - The Cross-Shaped Birthmark

'In the name of Princess Anthiese!!’ Those words were all the slogan the Deliverance needed. Now knowing they had a member of the royal family to fight for, the number of heroic units across the lands joining their cause grew with each passing day. Like the rain chips away at a wall made of sand, slowly but surely, their numbers were catching up to the number of soldiers Desaix had dispatched to guard his stronghold.

Clive was the happiest of them all to learn that Princess Anthiese was alive. The sacrifice their elderly teachers had made for him and the other five surviving Knights of Zofia to take the resurrection pills had finally blossomed like beautiful flowers. He'd so brazenly lived until now, and now he knew that doing so was not a dishonor or shameful in any way. After finally being able to have that thought, he began to cry tears of gratitude. The Deliverance was fully reborn as the new Knights of Zofia, able to majestically march towards their next battle, and majestically face death.

Their teachers had been right. Mila had not abandoned the Knights of Zofia. Their decision to teach Clive and the other young units about the six resurrection pills and tell them to live was finally proven to be the right one. And now that the Deliverance had the right foundation they needed, saving Mathilda from Desaix was not just a wish Clive held in his heart in the name of the war to restore power to the royal family. It was one of the many righteous causes accumulating that they should put all of their efforts together for.

“All units, stop what you are doing and line up!" Clive could not spend a few days resting idly in the village as their frustrations mounted. While there were no real battles for him to fight in, he trained tirelessly, and transcended from Cavalier to Paladin at the castle temple. At his order, all of the members of the Deliverance, their numbers now reaching several hundred, immediately lined up and stood at attention. During their march until now, Clive has become known as the Knights of Zofia's youngest leader, and it was an easy decision to give him command over their valiant army, with Alm entrusting all orders and commands to him.

"Knights of Zofia, march forth! Surround the stronghold with your heroic might!" Clive said, and Alm, his morale at its peak, stepped up to the front of the army. Clive lined up next him, his sacred horse now even bigger after his transcendence to Paladin.

Lukas and Forsyth were now also Knights, Python was a Sniper, and Clair had transcended to the highest rank of all aerial units, Falcon Knight.

And under Clive's leadership, Gray also achieved a level of strength befitting a Paladin. Tobin became a Sniper, and Python gifted him several special arrows that would boomerang back to him when shot. Lastly, Silque transcended to Saint, and still kept the portrait of Cliff on her at all times.

Zofia's reborn Knights of Zofia, with their heroic might, did not take a single step out of line. They looked up at Desaix's stronghold in front of them, and surrounded it by forming one giant ring. It glowed black in the sunlight, and the evil energy seeping out from within looked like the compound eyes of an insect that eats its way through and spoils every piece of produce it sees. Carved into the stronghold’s walls were countless embrasures. But armed with the knowledge that Princess Anthiese was alive, the Knights already thought nothing of them.

And so, Alm finally unsheathed his sword, pointed it up at the heavens as if to strike straight through the sun, and shouted as loudly as he could as the general of the reborn Knights of Zofia, "In the name of Princess Anthiese, charge!" That single word broke through their moment of peace, and the storm of their battle cry immediately assaulted the entire stronghold. Clair's falcon flew up high into the sky, becoming a star in the midday sky; and the horses on the ground kicked up thick clouds of dust that hung in the air, as if the Knights were riding huge rain clouds through the skies.

"Mathilda!"

Alm broke through and rushed the gate, shouting and not once looking back the entire time. He was the vanguard, with Paladins flanking either side of him, two Snipers in the middle, and two Knights behind him. The Knights had their lances held out to keep Desaix's oncoming guard soldiers at bay, with Silque among them continuously casting healing spells, not letting even a single cut go ignored.

Thanks to a bit of Forsyth's ingenuity, Robin's telescope was currently welded on to Gray's helmet, making it look like he had been shot with an arrow. The stronghold's guard shook with fear at the strange and horrifying appearance the trick gave him, all while he maneuvered his horse around, utilizing his both nearsighted and farsighted sight until he confirmed that he saw Mathilda at the top of the stronghold's watchtower.

Her hands were tied behind her back with chains, and her beautiful face was twisted into a look of resentment and malice. Desaix stood in front of her, his huge dark red cape fluttering behind him.

"The watchtower! She's with Desaix in the watchtower!" Gray shouted. Alm wasted no time in dropping everything to save Mathilda from what was happening to her.

"She's safe! The fortunes of war are finally on our side!" Gray announced, confirming to everyone they had a path to victory.

Alm smashed the armor of a Knight that jumped in front of him, then whistled into the air. "All according to our strategy! Victory is ours!"

Through the sunlight, a black spot no larger than a sesame seed appeared.

"It's Clair's falcon!" Forsyth shouted, but she grew in size so quickly that everyone knew that before Forsyth had finished saying those few words.

Alm's whistle was her signal. She kicked her falcon's side as hard as she could, and her falcon lived up to her expectations tenfold, flapping her wings to descend even faster. In the western forest, the thick foliage that turned brown in the winter was finally starting to look like individual trees again, and as the stronghold, which looked like a perfect circle from the skies, became distinct enough for her to see its ugly walls, Clair finally saw Desaix's dark red cape and Mathilda at the very top of the watchtower.

"Go, my falcon!" Clair glared at Desaix, and her falcon aimed her horn aimed straight at him. The head of her lance cut through the air like a swallow, until it stabbed through the hinge on the back of his neck with unparalleled precision.

Desaix thought for certain that a pegasus would not be able to make it all the way up to the top of the stronghold. And the Knights of Zofia's only Pegasus Knight was still just a girl who hadn't even turned fifteen yet, so she was still years away from transcending. Or so he thought. But he utterly underestimated her. In an attack that he did not see coming at all, his own blood spurted from his neck and into the air. When he ordered all of his guards in the watchtower to attack Clair, that created Mathilda's opening.

With the knight keeping Mathilda chained up suddenly distracted, his grip loosened from Mathilda's neck.

"Jump!" Clair shouted.

Not about to let the opening she had waited for go to waste, Mathilda understood what she must do. She hit the Knight with her shoulders, and as he stumbled, she moved towards the watchtower's railing, dragging her heavy chains along behind her until finally, she flew through the air with a flash of light.

And that was the signal the rest of the Knights of Zofia on the ground had waited for.

"Run!" Alm shouted as he ran towards Mathilda, fluttering through the blue sky like a withered leaf.

His voice also triggered Clive to break away from his spot in the Knights of Zofia’s migratory bird formation, calculate where she would land, and lunge forward.

He galloped his horse across the battlefield as fast as he could, scattering the enemy's lines beneath him, finally regaining his strength and soul as the leader of the few surviving young members of the Knights of Zofia. And with that back, he no longer had any reason to hesitate in calling out his beloved Mathilda's name.

"Mathilda!" He shouted the moment she gracefully landed, straddling his horse's back and feeling his mount's soft back hair.

The strong winds had freed her from her chains as she fell, now leaving her in just her suit of armor.

He felt her warmth against his back, warmer than she had been before they were separated. He spun one of his arms around and effortlessly lifted her up to move her in front of him. Once she was in place, he held her tight.

"I won't leave you or make you be alone ever again." He said.

Mathilda reciprocated by wrapping her arms around his neck, holding him back.

"Mathilda is with us again! Don't hold back! Kill every last one of them!"

At Alm's words and the storm of shouting as they charged, the reborn Knights of Zofia’s defensive formation fell apart as they instead began to move around as they pleased. They all fought the enemy units with so much energy that it seemed like a miracle.

Among those fighting was a group in black uniforms that was obvious to everyone present as Rigelian reinforcements.

However, for the Knights of Zofia, this made them realize that Desaix's army was too weak to guard the castle on their own. So, on the contrary, this revelation actually gave them courage. Their sword fighters fought even harder, their lances became even more ferocious, and their every arrow became a guaranteed shot against the enemy army.

Silque carefully considered her allies’ unstoppable force, alongside the effectiveness of each of her healing spells, to understand their movements so that she could time her own movements effectively. However, she had to heal them so little that it utterly shocked her.

Once the Knights of Zofia had finally routed the enemies on the ground floor, they saw that their only enemies left were Desaix and those by his side in the watchtower.

However, one person knew that this final battle to restore the royal family would not end so easily. In that same moment, as the battlefield quieted and the spurts of blood dying the earth red were finally subsiding, the shadow of a grand, imposing horse appeared before them in the cloud of dust his front legs had kicked up away from the chaos of the battlefield.

The collar of his rider’s uniform stood up to just under his chin. White hemming lined his black clothing sewn with impeccable craftsmanship, and he nearly touched the heavens, straddling with perfect posture his mount so large, a Paladin's horse wouldn't even come up to his horse’s chest. One look at his thick golden hair that flowed from his head in waves and his deep black eyes would make him easy to identify - he was the Golden General Zeke, co-commander of Rigel's border guard. His horse as a Gold Knight was so majestic it was worthy of its master. As it let out a long, low whinny, the gold ring pierced through its nose shook with its deep courtesy and coldness toward all enemies it fought, showing them full respect, no matter who.

"Are you Alm?" He asked, though he was already certain of the answer as his eyes locked on him. “I am Zeke of Rigel. In the name of my undying loyalty for Emperor Rudolf, I will kill you!” He said, then dismounted from his horse without making a single sound.

Before anyone else realized it, an army of Rigelian Paladins had appeared behind him. Their speed and lack of presence proved that Zeke's soldiers were all exceptionally strong, but at the same time, the way in which they gathered around him proved to everyone his abilities as a general.

"I've never seen this general before. His name isn't ringing any bells, either." Forsyth whispered to Alm. Because he prided himself on being able to calmly and rationally assess the state of each battle, he was dedicated to putting as much effort as he could into gathering information about Rigel's army. If there was a general he did not recognize, It would be difficult to judge their strength.

Still, the Knights of Zofia were halfway to conquering Desaix's stronghold. No matter how powerful a Rigelian standing in their way might be, they could not hesitate to fight. However, not a single one of their allies moved. There could be no other explanation for that than the impact of Zeke's readiness to fight them all, his exceptional confidence in his own abilities, and his beauty. The beauty that Jerome hated him so much for, to the reborn Knights of Zofia, reflected menacingly off the golden lance in his head.

Alm was no exception. But Zeke’s beauty was not the reason why he could not move even an inch, rather, it was because he sensed that Zeke was a long time rival of his that he would have to fight one day, even if he might be an ally - though he was certain Zeke was an enemy.

Meaning that in Alm’s eyes, Zeke was, without question, someone he must kill. Zeke might have felt that way as well, and that was perhaps the reason why he dismounted his horse to stand on the same level as Alm.

“I’ll test him to see how strong he is.” Python whispered as he slowly nocked an arrow on his crossbow behind his back, so as not to alert any of their enemies.

"I will defeat this Gold Knight. We're changing our strategy!" Alm said, and called out to Lukas. "Desaix's head is yours! Take Silque and Robin with you!" His words broke the nervous tension surrounding the stronghold for the first time.

Silque moved behind Lukas, and Tobin positioned himself behind her with his crossbow at the ready. The three started to move towards the watchtower together, but Zeke’s Paladins would of course not allow that, and kicked their horses’ legs in front of their path to stop them.

“Don’t move!” Zeke shouted, freezing his Paladins in an instant. “We can no longer save Desaix. If we do, then it will just allow him to keep surviving.” Zeke said, eyes glaring at Alm. “Let them pass. All of you will stand behind me, and see which one of us lives or dies. It will be the greatest training you could ever receive.”

The very moment he finished speaking, Zeke's gold lance moved through the air. It happened in an instant. Not a single member of the Knights of Zofia had even a moment to swallow the lump in their throat. Zeke’s hand moved so fast that they could not look away. In that moment, all they could do was prepare themselves for Alm’s death.

But that could be considered the difference between all of the other units in the Knights of Zofia and Alm, the one deemed to be above even transcendence by Mila herself. At the exact same time that Zeke moved, he swung his sword, and repelled the tip of Zeke’s lance away from him.

Alm jumped, then Zeke jumped. To convey that they wanted to escape all of the onlookers getting in the way of them having a proper fight, the two landed on a battlefield far away from the Zofian and Rigelian armies watching them, then faced each other once more. Everyone else’s eyes followed them, excluding Lukas, Robin, and Silque, who all ran up the entrance to the watchtower together.

The chaotic air calmed for a moment, the balance of power between Alm and Zeke in perfect harmony. Those watching felt as if their staring contest would never end. Zeke held his lance horizontally, aiming at Alm’s heart; and Alm stood above him, his sword pointing straight at the sky. In these positions, Zeke felt as if Alm would live forever until the moment he gouged out Alm’s heart, and Alm felt as if he could only truly defeat Zeke if he cut the sun out of the sky, and plunged the entire world into darkness.

No one watching could determine whether the one who moved first would lose, or the one who moved second would lose. Neither Alm nor Zeke themselves knew either. It would only be clear the moment after one of them collapsed. The dedication they felt to not allow themselves to even strike simultaneously was so intense, the wind stopped blowing between them.

Just who would be the first to move? Like a seed falling from a distant tree, that would be the signal of both the beginning and the ending. To everyone watching, the only way they could describe the scene in front of them, was that it looked as if a god was waving his paintbrush across the sky, splattering gold and silver wherever they fancied.

Zeke realized that Alm was jumping up, and looked for signs to judge where he might land. But he couldn’t follow Alm with his eyes. If his posture faltered even slightly, and Alm appeared in his line of sight, then everything would already be over, as before his nerves could communicate with his arm, Alm’s arm would probably already be stabbing in between his eyes.

Alm looked down at Zeke from the sky, picked up on the fact that Zeke could not move even an inch, and became a bit excited as he switched to a reverse grip. It was a stance he had seen countless times before. He had seen countless amateur units tremble in fear, unable to move when he disappeared before their eyes.

“I don’t even have to say it.” Alm muttered, but his confidence lasted only for a moment. The very next second, he was utterly astounded. He should have immediately felt the rush of victory that he always did when he defeated an enemy, but he did not, even in the slightest.

Alm was a prodigy in swordsmanship. Because he was a prodigy, he was completely bewildered when he did not feel victorious. And that bewilderment caused the trajectory of his sword to shift by a hair.

His sword merely grazed Zeke’s cheek and sent a few strands of golden hair flying through the air before it bounced across the ground, as if it was chasing after the pebbles it kicked up into the air. Now it was Zeke’s turn to attack. He swung his golden lance around like a tornado.

It was no surprise that the blood that spurted through the air was Alm's. He managed to escape the tempest by a hair, but as he reached for his sword, his right hand was slow to move out of the way. The piece of his armor that kept the back of his right hand covered split open and fell, and Zeke’s lance also cut his sleeve.

Zeke saw the part of Alm's arm just above the spot where the blood spurted from, where his arm muscles bulged the most.

“Why?!” Zeke screamed.

What he had seen was a cross-shaped birthmark. The very same mark that stopped the tip of his lance from claiming a surefire victory. The very same mark that Lukas had taken to be proof that Alm was a prodigy. It caused Zeke's eyes to widen, and his entire body to freeze.

With his head assaulted by such a powerful impact, he reflexively stepped away from the battle.

“Why do you have that?!” Zeke screamed once more, at the exact same moment that Lukas' voice rang above their heads from the watchtower.

“Desaix is dead!” Lukas shouted as loudly as he could.

#fire emblem #fe #fire emblem 2 #fe2 #gaiden #fe gaiden #fire emblem gaiden #fe15 #fire emblem 15 #shadows of valentia #fire emblem echoes #alm #celica #japan #japanese #translation #novel #light novel #fe2 novelization translation

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theriveroflight · 10 months

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Very slowly turns towards you. For the shipping requests… Laymitri and number 88 (I’m thinking at the end of UF, before Dimitri gets taken to jail). Turns away and disappears.

88. Hurry to the airport/train station before the other leaves town forever

"Wait!"

Dimitri turns to see Hershel rushing up to him and his police escorts. He's no longer wearing his hat. Dimitri's not sure if he's ever seen that. It strikes him for more than just how unusual it is.

"Allow me to speak with the suspect, please?" Hershel asks. "I assure you I have no intentions of allowing him to escape."

The officers look at each other, probably assessing if they're permitted to do such a thing. Dimitri hopes they won't, just so he won't have to endure this conversation. He can't imagine it would be particularly pleasant to have a conversation with Hershel like this, and he doesn't want one of his last experiences as a free man to be something that digs up everything inside him and exposes it.

But they leave, retreating to just a few meters away -- out of earshot, especially with the chaos around them, but within view to remind Dimitri that this is not an opportunity.

Not that he would take it if it were.

"So she's gone, I take it?" Dimitri asks.

"For good this time," Hershel answers, looking down at the hat in his hands. "In some ways...it's best that she's gone. I wouldn't know what to do if she had stayed. My life has changed so much."

Any reply Dimitri has to that sounds thoroughly uncharitable when he says it in his head -- to Claire's memory, to Hershel, to himself.

"I had already said my goodbyes to her," he says. "It wasn't selfless to let you. Just fair."

"And I am grateful for that." Hershel looks at him. It strikes Dimitri as deeply vulnerable, more than it would be if he were wearing the top hat in this very moment. "I'd like to offer my apologies."

"What for?"

"For getting you into this position," he answers.

"I only have myself to blame for listening to Clive." Clive's been escorted away by now, having been considered a larger risk than Dimitri himself. "I let myself be consumed by my desires. I should’ve known better than to listen to a man who was barely an adult."

Hershel frowns. "Being emotional is certainly not a bad thing. I...do wish it were easier sometimes for me to be open about what I am feeling, but I don't even know how to open myself to my emotions."

Dimitri barks out a laugh. "I wouldn't worry about that too much, Hershel. It's not a bad thing, having what you do."

"I have been made aware of the man I could have been several times before." Something dark crosses his face. "None have done so quite as blatantly as you, of course. I have been forced to confront the possibility of turning from my current path to see despair instead of hope. But, most critically, you can choose the path of hope, Dimitri. Hope remained when nothing else would."

It sounds like he's quoting something, but Dimitri’s never been the type for literary analysis.

"I'm afraid I'm not too familiar with the story," Dimitri admits, "but I know a thing or two about hope."

Hope that Claire would return. Hope that Claire would be able to stay, in spite of the many possible pitfalls. Hope that they might be able to carve out a different past.

And now, here, with Hershel: a new hope.

A hope not to change the past, but to change the future.

"That's good," Hershel says with a smile. He looks up and affixes his hat in its place of honour atop his head. "I don't know if we'll ever see each other again, but I do hope you find a way to reacquaint yourself with it."

Dimitri nearly asks Hershel in that moment -- come visit me, see me in prison, don't leave me.

But this feels final, in some ways. Maybe this will be the end for good, or maybe it'll be an end wrapped in a beginning.

"We will," Dimitri says, with more certainty than he feels.

#professor layton #laymitri #dimitri allen #hershel layton #requested #pl spoilers #unwound future spoilers #fanfiction #my writing

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another-clive-blog · 4 months

Note

I voted to marry the boy, could you write him being incredibly smitten with one Emmy Altava? (I would take any Clemmy really, but Clive MUST be head over heels for her)

SORRY FOR THE DELAY !! My sincerest apologies, this week has been kicking my ass-

This was hard to write, because I'm bad at shipping and also I don't know the first thing about Emmy ? She works with Layton and is gorgeous, that's it :'D I did ask some friends who told me about a camera ?? So I tried to like. Work from there

ANYWAY !! AU where Emmy works at Clive's newspaper as a part-job on top of her adventures with Layton ! She is a photographer and 20-year-old Clive is a writer. Also this is Unwound Future Canon-compliant (kinda ? It works from Clive's perspective). This is teen, comfort no hurt, fluff, and entirely written from clive's POV

Emmy fans I apologize in advance if I didn't do your girl justice, she is gorgeous and I want to get to know her

Clive remembered that fateful day- not the day it had all started, of course, but the day his whole plan had been thrown off the rails.

It was a day just like the others- or rather, it would have been, had his article not been rejected. He had been working at the newspaper for two years now, ever since he'd graduated at age 18 : two years, and not once had one of his articles been refused. All of his work had always been met with approval at worst, congratulations at best- nothing less.

But not this time. The direction hadn't said much about this outrageous event, simply something about his article needing more work, apparently. This usually wouldn't bother Clive : failure was a part of life, and he forgave those poor souls for failing to perceive the greatness of his work.

And yet- this was a problem. Clive had asked to be granted access to informations about the Incident ever since he started working here, and his request had been denied every time. He had to prove his reliability first, they said, show them that he hadn't taken the job just to get his hands on classified files. It was annoying, truly : of course he had, but proving otherwise was tiresome.

But now, with this failure... Was his progress going to fade away ? Could he still hope to get these documents soon ? Or was this the faux pas that would cost him his prize entirely ?

Clive sighed, putting that traitorous piece of paper back on his desk : he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment.

What should he do now ?

"Well, that's a sad face if I've ever seen one," a voice commented in an extremely helpful way. He didn't recognize it, mostly because he couldn't be bothered to learn his colleagues' voices or names- mostly because they kept coming to annoy him at the worst possible time. Which was all the time.

"Could you please leave me alone for once or is it really too much to ask ?" Clive knew that he didn't sound very pleasant or respectful, but that was literally the last of his problems. Besides, he had isolated his desk from the rest specifically because he didn't want others to come bother him.

"Pretty sure this is the first time we meet. At least, I don't remember seeing you before. Are you new too ?" She replied, and she really wasn't leaving, was she ? Then again, if she was new here, she probably didn't know that he wasn't here to make friends.

He opened his eyes.

The first thing to catch his gaze was the odd yellow dress, a strange outfit to wear in a place like this : she looked like an adventurer, not a journalist. There wasn't any dress code to meet in order to work here, but still...

Then again, she did have a bow tie.

"I've been here for two years," he deadpanned. She seemed nice and that was good for her, really, but he wasn't in the mood for chit-chat. "Welcome to the team, I suppose."

She smiled. It wasn't bright like a sun or sweet like chocolate, but it was rather something authentic, that she had worked hard to obtain and preserve. This was the kind of smile that would inspire tons of stories and articles- at least to someone really passionate about this job.

Clive wasn't. He wasn't here to change the world or make friends, he was here to get these classified files that would hopefully help him move on.

"Thank you," she said, before putting one hand on his desk and leaning forward : Clive pushed his chair back a little. "Say, since we're a team now, do you mind telling me why I've never seen you hang out with the others ?"

Oh wow. Alright, no little mind games- just straight to the point.

That really was new.

"Well," Clive muttered, looking away, "I have work to do."

She tilted her head slightly, his answer only making her more curious. "And they don't ?"

Was this some kind of test ? Clive couldn't perceive any ill intentions behind this question, but it didn't sound all that mundane either. What was she at ?

"Of course they do," he explained himself, "But this is important to me, and-" Actually- why was he even telling her that ? She probably didn't care, he didn't care, this whole discussion was useless : he had no reason to keep it going. "And my article just got refused, so I have even more work to do." He said abruptly, hoping to end the conversation.

She didn't go away. "Oh really ? That sucks. Want me to take a look ?" She offered, as if she wasn't new here.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm not sure you can help much," Clive said coldly. He wasn't in the mood for this. "I mean, you're new, and a photographer, so this may not be your-"

"Nonsense !" She put her hands on her hips, the same smile on her face. She had listened to approximately none of his reasoning. Stubborn, Clive thought. Stubborn and very confident.

"I may not write the articles, but I know how they work," she said. "Also, I have learned a thing or two from Layton."

Clive froze. Layton. The professor Layton ? The one who had saved him as a kid, the man who was his model, his inspiration, his-

"Hey, this article is about him !" Quick as a fox, she had leaned over his desk and grabbed the piece of paper : her eyes were done scanning through the first few paragraphs before Clive could even react.

"Wh- where are your manners ?!" He yelled at her, blushing furiously. Alright, that was it-

Pushing his chair back, he quickly made his way around his desk, reaching for his sorry excuse of an article.

She dodged his poor attempt at taking back his sheet of paper with no effort whatsoever. "This is pretty good," she said, talking about the paper rather than his embarrassing fight.

Clive was a clever man- that's why he decided after yet another vain attempt that he couldn't win. Somewhere in his mind, he noted that she had to truly be an adventurer of some kind : she was surprisingly strong, agile and terribly efficient, unbothered by someone like him.

He reluctantly gave up his useless fight, taking a few steps back and crossing his arms instead. "Not good enough, apparently," he spat, glaring at her. She had no shame, no hesitation, no weakness- who even was she ?!

"Yeah, I can see why," she nodded, and Clive was once again baffled by her ability to say honest things without any hard feelings behind it.

"Your article is good, but you forgot the presentation," she explained, stepping closer to better show him : this proximity made Clive agitated, although he wasn't sure why. "You talk like everyone knows Layton, but that's just not true- especially since you're dealing with his first ever adventure. You have to keep everyone in mind, not just the readers who are as knowledgeable about this subject as you are."

Clive choked. "I-I'm not-"

"Hey, I could give you a good photo of Layton !" She interrupted him with a smile. "That way, everyone would know who we're talking about."

"Yeah, about that- do you actually know the professor ?" He narrowed his eyes at her, looking her up and down. She didn't seem like the kind of person the professor would frequent, bow tie or no bow tie.

"Of course !" She said, before her voice took a challenging intonation, "What, wanna bet ?"

Clive scoffed. She was being ridiculous- this was probably all an elaborate plan to make fun of him. He could absolutely picture his colleagues telling her to prank him as some sort of initiation ritual, actually. She certainly was almost as annoying as they all were.

But she may know the professor. "Sure," he finally said. "If you can take this photo and bring it to me, I'll buy you a coffee tomorrow."

"Wow, hey, don't ruin yourself for me Tiger," she sarcastically said. Tiger ??

"Wha-"

"Alright, I'll come tomorrow by your sad and isolated desk to give you the picture," she decided. "I love proving I'm right, almost as much as I love drinking terrible coffees with rude co-workers."

"Are you serious-"

"See you!" She cut him off with a provocative grin, again, and left without listening to another word he had to say, again.

Clive watched her go in silence, furious. Who did she think she was ?! She had been here for what, a couple hours, and she just came up to him like that ? He hoped she had annoyed everyone else too : that way, she'd get fired sooner rather than later.

The thought did make him feel better, and he sat back in his chair, enjoying the calm of the small room where stood his isolated desk. If he focused hard enough, he could hear her laugh with others in the next room- but he couldn't, because he didn't care enough to pay attention.

So since he wasn't listening to the sound of her voice, it was silent. And enjoyable. And lonely- which was good, because he hated having to deal with others. Especially her -what was her name again ? Not that it mattered-, because she was so rude and straight-forward and confident. Really confident.

Nevermind.

He picked up the article, looking at it thoughtfully. He needed this article to be accepted, and he needed it to be his best work yet : it was the only way to prove he was worthy of the reputation he had built for himself, and, most importantly- the only way to get what he wanted, the Truth.

...Presentation, uh ?

-_-_-_-

Surely enough, the very next day, Emmy came back to his desk with a brand new picture.

Professor Layton, sitting at a table, enjoying a nice cup of tea. He was smiling serenely, and his face held a bit of warmth, of comfort, of home.

"There you go !" Emmy said with a very satisfied smile, one that Clive wasn't ready to see this early in the morning.

He took the photo she was handing him. It felt recent and authentic : in fact, he could see yesterday's newspaper on the table, next to Layton's hand. It was crazy. There was no way they actually knew each other.

"Are you a paparazzi ?" He asked before he could stop himself. He shouldn't throw accusations her way in case she really was close to the professor, but what else could it be ?

"What ? No !" Emmy didn't seem to get offended- on the contrary, she stood proudly, hands on her hips. "I'm his associate !"

Oh.

Clive fell silent, his gaze wandering back to the picture. The professor was facing whoever had taken the photography : he was fully aware someone was here, taking this very picture. Had she asked him to smile ? Or was he just that happy to help his associate win a stupid bet and make a name for herself at her new job ?

Why would someone like the professor choose her as an associate ?

"That's odd," Emmy said with feigned naivety. "I recall you being a real Layton fan, and yet you didn't recognize the one and only Emmy Altava, associate of the great professor Layton ? Surely someone as knowledgeable as you should know this. I mean, it'd be pretty humiliating if you didn't, right ?"

He looked up, staring at her, and she stared him down with a provocative smirk, waiting for his answer.

Somehow, he... he wasn't mad. He didn't feel like angrily answering or starting a fight, which was relatively rare : maybe this was due to the fact that he knew she could easily destroy him.

Or maybe this was due to the fact that he really wanted to know what Layton had seen in her, now. "I'm not a Layton fan, and I didn't know he had an associate."

Emmy's smirk disappeared quickly at his admission, replaced with something that was almost disappointment. She hummed, looking at him strangely. "...This is really not as satisfying as you had me believe it would be. I was looking forward to crushing your little ego under my boot."

Alright- forget that. Clive scoffed. "Don't forget I have to buy you a disgusting coffee now, so we're stuck together for a few more painful minutes."

"Ah- I had indeed forgotten about that part," She admitted, scratching the top of her head. All of the antagonizing and taunting was gone, just like that, Clive noticed : how did she move on so quickly ? He never ever missed an opportunity to rightfully put people in their places. But she was already over it ??

Emmy -she did say her name was Emmy, right ? Emmy Altava- shrugged, coming to a decision. "Disgusting coffee is better than no coffee. Lead the way, Tiger."

He groaned. "Stop calling me that."

"Wait," she paused, and he stared at her while waiting for whatever nonsense she was about to spit. "...What is your name ?"

...You know what- that was fair. He hadn't told her, after all. "I'm Clive Dove."

She snapped her fingers, that same confident grin on her lips. "Great. Lead the way, Clivey."

Clive groaned before leaving the room without a word. Emmy followed him with a satisfied grin, very proud and amused by his pointless anger.

Clive walked faster, trying to hide the blush that crept on his face.

-_-_-_-

They didn't interact much after the coffee : in fact, they didn't talk at all for the next few days.

Clive would see her sometimes, or hear her. He heard her a lot : she had a booming voice, full of life and passion. Whenever she talked to another one of their colleagues, Clive would hear her contagious laugh, listen to her stories from the loneliness of his small isolated desk.

She was a great storyteller. Managing her effects, adding plenty of details, adapting to her audience- it felt real. Clive could picture her stories, her adventures at the professor's side.

This was exactly what gave him a new idea, bright like always.

He came across her in the corridor, while she was heading to get herself a coffee. "Oh- Clivey ! It's been some time, hasn't it ?"

He gritted his teeth. This was a bright idea. He only had bright ideas. "Ignoring that first part. I wanted to tell you something."

She didn't seem all that excited, merely eyeing him up and down like they were in a box ring. "What- you want me to prove you wrong again ? Cuz I can do that-"

"No, no," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Why was she always so impulsive ? "I wanted to tell you that I submitted my article again, and the direction as well as the audience were really enthusiastic this time."

She seemed to relax, smiling instead. "That's great ! I'm happy for you."

"Also I added your name to it."

She... stopped smiling. In fact, she remained uncharacteristically silent, staring at him as if she was trying to see beyond his calm expression.

It was unsettling- deeply, extremely unsettling. It felt as though she could look at him and see everything he was hiding : his dead parents, his need for answers, his plan to get these files, his... his dead parents. There was nothing else he was hiding.

And yet, he felt his face go red under her scrutinizing gaze. Stupid, embarrassing shame.

"You helped me with the photography and the structure of the article, so it's only fair," he explained in a small voice, crossing his arms. He was not going to look at her. He was not going to meet her gaze and help her find whatever she was looking for. "And that's also why I'm here. I would like to offer you to- to work on a series of articles about the professor."

Clive still refused to watch her reaction, and it took another couple of seconds for Emmy to react : but when she did, she put her hands on her hips, leaning forward with a wide grin. Clive hated when she did that, it made him feel so small compared to her. She was also closer to him, which made him feel really... uncomfortable. And hot. "You want me to work on these ? With you, I suppose ?"

"Obviously," he scoffed, shrugging nonchalantly- or so he tried.

"...Why ?" She sounded concerned- curious too. There was something in her that wasn't sure about this project, and yet there was an even bigger part of her who wanted to get more out of this, to explore all the possibilities.

Clive couldn't care less about possibilities, or colleagues, or success : there was only one success that mattered to him, and it was getting these classified informations.

Which was exactly why he wanted to work with Emmy. Her proximity with Layton and, he'll admit it, her set of skills were perfect to help him reach his own goal. "Because you know a lot about the professor, and your stories are good material. Also, you could provide with pictures and- and presentation advices, I suppose. Probably," he muttered. She was still so close- should he step back ?

No, she would probably get offended. Oh well- he just had to keep standing inches from her, then.

She seemed amused. "I thought you weren't a Layton fan. Why are you asking me to tell you about him ?"

"He's a good inspiration for articles," he said, trying to sound professional- and why was he even trying ? This was professional. It was a professional setting. "Only an idiot would let this opportunity go."

"And you're not an idiot." She thought about it for a minute, before she shrugged : "Why not ! I'm here to create articles, after all. But first I need my coffee." She stretched her back before taking a few steps away, heading for her long-awaited beverage.

Clive felt... almost disappointed to see her leaving, but the unusual joy overcame it easily. She had accepted to work with him, they were gonna be a team- which meant that he was getting closer to achieving his goal. "Wait- want me to buy you a coffee ?"

She chuckled. "Don't ruin yourself for me, Clivey."

He didn't make any comment on the name.

-_-_-_-

Getting to work with Emmy was just delightful. She was as efficient as he was, both straight-forward in their criticism, always looking for ways to improve, listening to the other's suggestions before making up their minds. They made an exceptional team with perfect cohesion and excellent results.

Of course, the direction had noticed it too. Their articles were a hit among the newspaper's audience, even bringing in new customers : everyone was curious about this duo who wrote entertaining articles about some professor. It almost felt like fiction, and people liked to read these improbable stories that stood out from the rest of the usual news coverage.

The audience wanted more, the direction wanted more, and so Emmy and Clive logically decided to make more articles : day after day, week after week, they kept creating more and more stories, to the point that they would spend most of the day together- even the sacred coffee break.

"And that's how we found out that Descole really was behind all of this," Emmy finished her story, taking her cup of coffee in one hand. "I mean, I had my suspicions- but without the professor, I never would have guessed what was truly going on."

Clive nodded, absent-mindedly scribbling a few notes. His own cup had been left completely untouched, his coffee cold by now.

This detail didn't go unnoticed. "Cold coffee won't taste better, you know," Emmy joked.

Clive stopped writing, looking at his cup in silence.

Emmy frowned. "Hey, are you okay ?"

Clive looked at her, then at his notes. They were precise and neatly written at first, like always, before suddenly going... messy. Which was weird, because Clive hated messy.

"I just thought about something," he explained.

"Oh ?" She leaned forward on the table : her curious eyes were scanning Clive's face, waiting for any piece of information. Her coffee was left forgotten- it was disgusting anyway.

Clive brought his own cup to his lips, a poor attempt at hiding the blush on his face- because he was blushing, he knew that.

After all, this was exactly the something he had been thinking about.

It had taken him weeks to realize it. But surely enough, at some point, he had stopped listening to the stories and started listening solely to the voice telling them. He had stopped seeing work as a means to an end and started to look forward to seeing her in the morning, to sharing a coffee with her day after day.

He had even stopped caring about these stupid classified files. He would never stop being curious about the truth, wanting deep down to know what truly went down- but he could also portray his life in a world where he wouldn't get to know. Maybe he could never know, and still be okay, as long as he had another source of motivation.

Emmy. His work with her- scratch that. Just Emmy. He knew it was her and not these pointless articles : even the professor, his childhood hero, seemed to pale in comparison to her, recently.

He had wondered why the professor had made her his associate : now he knew, maybe even more than Layton himself.

"I was just- just thinking," he said, before taking a sip of coffee. It was cold, and bitter, and frankly disgusting : this newspaper should be able to afford better coffees, especially with all the records in sells recently. But this disgusting coffee allowed him to share a moment with Emmy, so maybe it was a bit okay. "About stuff."

"Very specific," Emmy mocked him, "Come on, spit it out !"

Oh, there was no way he was telling her. Admitting it -partly- to himself was already a big enough challenge. "I was- well, I was wondering if the professor was okay with us writing about his life."

Emmy rose an eyebrow, settling back in her chair. It really was just a game of getting closer and away, wasn't it ? "The professor doesn't mind. He is flattered someone is that invested in his adventures. He said he'd like to meet you, one day," Emmy simply answered, looking at him funny. There it was, that scrutinizing gaze that was looking for secrets, trying to uncover everything he wasn't saying- "But really, Clivey, we've been doing that for weeks. You only wonder about that now ?"

"I guess I didn't want this to stop, in case he was bothered," he simply said.

If Emmy noticed the way he passed up the opportunity to meet Layton himself, she didn't say a thing. "Ah, right. You're not an idiot, and you're not passing up any opportunities."

"Exactly," Clive said. He wasn't blushing anymore, so he put his coffee down- it was really too disgusting, anyway.

Emmy nodded. "We have enough for our next article. We should get back to work- you know, so you keep getting opportunities." She said this with a touch of humor, and Clive chuckled at it. It wasn't even that funny, but she had a way of making him happy that only worked with her : another colleague would have him rolling his eyes and spitting a distateful comment.

"Alright- I just need to go back to my desk first," he said, standing up and gathering his stuff.

In a fraction of second, Emmy was next to him. "Go get it, Tiger," she gently punched him in the shoulder. Uh, it'd been some time since she used that one.

"And Clive ?" She added. "I'm glad we took this opportunity. Together." And with that, she winked at him.

Clive stared dumbly at her, her words taking a minute to register : when they did however, he felt his whole face heating up in a way he couldn't possibly hide.

"I- uh- I mean-" He stuttered like an idiot, unable to form any thought. What did she mean by that ? Was this a friendly remark ? Or did she- did she also-

Was she also in love with him ? Because he was in love, madly. And maybe he hoped she was too.

He didn't know what miracle happened, but she left without any comments and he remained alone, his stuff in his hands and his heartbeat racing. He must look pathetic, being so red in the face and trembling because of a single remark. He was weak, weak for her, and what was left to be done ?

Luckily -a second miracle-, he didn't see any colleagues as he rushed back to his desk : if any of them had seen him like this, a trembling blushing mess, he probably would have no choice but to kill them.

Putting his stuff on one side of the desk, he himself dropped onto his chair, palms pressed against his face. Even now, even with his eyes closed, he could still see her beautiful smile, the way she winked at him-

No. No no no- he had to stop imagining stuff. There was no way she saw him as more than a colleague -a friend, maybe, emphasis on the maybe- and he would ruin everything if he couldn't respect her feelings on the matter. He didn't- he didn't actually need to- to date her- dating her, he was thinking about dating her and it sounded so wonderful, everything he could ask for, and-

No ! No, alright ? She wasn't interested, and he respected that. And he didn't need to date her, just getting to talk to her, to see her being so vibrant and passionate and confident, a real force of nature- just that was enough. He didn't need more.

He was happy with just getting to see her.

He dropped his hands, taking a deep breath. His heartbeat was still a bit fast, but it was returning to normal : even the red on his face was gone. It was alright. He would be alright, as long as he could keep things as they were.

And if he wasn't entirely satisfied with the way things were, if he kept longing for more, then it was his problem.

He opened his eyes, only to notice a white envelope on the middle of his desk. It... hadn't been there before. Who had put this here ?

Curious if not wary, he got closer and took the sheet of paper, turning it around in his hand.

On the front, he could read "Access to classified files granted"

#And then we get Emo king Clive with 'Oh no you don't' Emmy. Toxic Yuri my friends (Alright I'm joking I'm joking dw)#Also I know the end is an angsty cliffhanger and the beginning is more comedy than shipping but. Idk I'm bad at shipping #Emmy fans I would love to know how accurate I wrote her 👀 I literally rewrote this whole thing 5 times cuz it didn't feel right #So I hope this is the right one !! Although I did wonder if she would be around canonically. Or if she would work at a newspaper #I do feel like she drinks coffee tho. And Clive is fond of beverages so we're good =)#Anyway I'm rambling a lot ??? Point is- sorry for the delay and I hope you like it !!#Now I still have to finish my Big Bang outline. It is mostly done but I'd like to add an excerpt too. So I will probably post less here #Clive dove #Emmy altava #clemmy #professor layton and the unwound future #professor layton and the lost future #My writing #Ask

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clairatgarregmach · 4 months

Text

Clair's Interview for Garreg Mach Officers Academy

What has led you to where you are today?

Clair knits her fingers together as the interviewer trails off and looks her in the eyes. She knows she can stick the landing on this one.

“My own two feet, I suppose - with a little help from some heeled boots here and there.”

She straightens in her seat, partially to bring her posture back to flawlessly elegant after her moment of taut pondering, and partially to stop herself from springing up and doing a little shoe flourish, like she might do for a group of friends in the entrance hall of a manor. She settles for crossing her legs at the ankle - she did choose nice boots today, and the neatly dressed woman interviewing her might appreciate her stylishness, but shoe fashion feels like it might be rather low on the priority list of prestigious, selective academies.

The interviewer just blinks, her lips a tight line.

Alright, Clair thinks, the shoes definitely wouldn’t have swung her. A new approach, perhaps.

She smiles softly. “Your silence and pensive blinking are telling me that you don’t take this for a serious answer. I happen to think it’s quite relevant, if I may elaborate.”

The interviewer nods. “Please do.”

Clair clears her throat. “I was born a noble, yes, and I do rather enjoy it, but I was never one to merely rest on my heels, or let myself float powerlessly down the river of life. That’s no way to get anywhere quickly. Besides, my brother was fashioning himself into something of a military commander by the time he was big enough to hold anything vaguely lance-shaped, and I wasn’t going to let myself be left in his tracks like that. I was, of course, tutored in the highest levels of arts and mathematics, but it was at the rambunctious age of fourteen that I taught myself to fly my pet pegasus - a whirling mess of an incident that Clive rarely hesitates to bring up at dinner parties, but nevertheless the start of something great.”

“Your letter of interest did mention flight training,” the woman says dryly, clearly unimpressed with Clair’s wry anecdotes. Her pointy boots are at least good for lightly kicking herself under the table. Who was she kidding? Garreg Mach probably has a hundred students who could fly a pegasus at a younger age than her.

Focus, Clair. You know how to talk to people.

“I, of course, plan to continue my flying studies in earnest at Garreg Mach - it would be a shame to let such a useful skill slide away - but I must ultimately develop in all aspects that are befitting of a knight and a noble. I’m nothing if not driven, after all - you can expect me to take on a voluminous variety of academic pursuits. Forgive me if I end up swinging a sword around in a literature seminar - I can get somewhat over-eager, maybe a little confused - but my intentions are always good!”

The interviewer nods, and Clair can’t stifle her smile. Perhaps being a little out there is a good thing at Garreg Mach?

What do you believe are your greatest strengths? Your greatest weaknesses?

“Well, you’ve already touched on my flying skills,” Clair remarks.

The interviewer clicks her tongue. “Correct.”

Clair relaxes her shoulders slightly. “It’s quite a rare skill for a Valentian to have - pegasi aren’t native to our land, mine was imported as a pet when I was a petulant teenager, I taught myself to fly it out of sheer spite and bloody-mindedness - but this isn’t anything new to anyone who’s been to a party with me. Of course, it was a double-edged sword: even once I knew how to fly, I just became Clair the pegasus girl. Infuriating! So cruel, life is - my brother, ever the overachiever - love him to pieces, I must clarify, but he was a lot to handle as we were growing up - he got to be a knight and a commander and a scholar and the one everyone wanted, and I was just the pretty girl with the flying horse.”

“How did you overcome that?” the woman asks, furrowing her brows.

Clair chides herself for dodging a question so forcefully she slammed into another one, but recovers.

“Elegance, mostly. I do believe it’s a strength of mine - something learned, not inherent. The way you move and carry yourself, both physically and mentally, can change the way your friends and your foes see you. Some people I’ve met would disagree, obviously, but I do find myself more than capable of playing the hapless damsel - right up until I slide a knife between a man’s ribs.” She makes a couple of decidedly inelegant sound effects and hand gestures to ram the point home.

The interviewer looks faintly perturbed. Perhaps the Fodlanese don’t discuss close-quarters takedown tactics in the first interview.

She coughs into her hand. “And, well, I suppose that’s a weakness of mine right there - I excite so easily. As you can tell, I’m rather eager at times; always determined to give it my all. It doesn’t always sit well with those who expect a demure, deferential noble out of me, but I like it that way! A noblewoman shouldn’t have to be stuffy and dull - where’s the fun in that? There’s so much vibrance and brilliance in the world - can’t a girl just be joyful about all of it?”

The interviewer smiles. “I assure you we have much less deferential nobles at Garreg Mach, Miss Clair.”

Clair smiles back. “It shall be fun to meet them.”

If a story were to be written about your life, what role would you play?

Clair purses her lips. An unexpected question, to be sure, but not one she can’t figure out.

“I suppose I never fully shook the ardent desire to be a hero. Perhaps I was even born with it! My brother, like I mentioned, was very quickly big enough to wave around things vaguely resembling spears. I was not, but that couldn’t deter me - much to the terror of my parents and maids. They all looked at me quite sternly and said that flipping a butter knife end over end at the dinner table was not befitting of a young lady, but one of the advantages of being a noble is that you can press and press and press your parents, and someday you’ll get what you want. The Knights of Zofia were quite amused when I showed up for the first day of training in a dress, but such is the way of being a young girl - I didn’t exactly have much choice in my wardrobe. Not that I’m incapable of fighting in my finery, of course - and I’d say that makes me look like quite the impressive heroine.”

The interviewer nods. “An interesting response. I think you’ve painted a very robust image of yourself, Miss Clair. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from us soon. You may go.”

“Thank you so much,” Clair says, shaking her hand gently. She pushes her chair aside, turns on her heel to walk out of the room, and… shoe flourish. Can’t help herself.

The interviewer stifles a laugh. “You have excellent taste in shoes, if I may say. I think you’ll find Fodlanese styles and our fashion programmes very much to your liking.”

Knew it.

#toa interview #clair

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