haikusandstareyes-blog

[haikusandstareyes-blog]

cultfreed‌:

Salem’s eyes darted toward the bushes lining the path, partially hiding the young woman at the base of one of the trees. Though her face was unusually pale (unusual, perhaps, had she not just been caught beneath a storm of arrows), her voice commanded such authority that Salem almost didn’t notice the arrow she had nocked and aimed at him.

“Very well.” He lowered slowly and placed his staff on the ground at his feet, not taking his eyes from the stranger as he did so. Then he displayed his hands, palms up, as sign of peace, and took two steps back as she directed.

“I wish you no harm,” he tried to placate her, at least to have her lower her weapon. Though the underbrush obscured much of her body, he couldn’t find any insignia or sign that she was associated with the caravan that Perne had hoped to ambush. A hapless traveler, and one who was fortunate to even still be alive. Half a dozen arrows launched at once were not easy to dodge.

“I feared that you may have been struck down by this assault so I came to check. Worry not, I come alone.” His voice remained calm and even. He was not afraid of her, but few things could frighten him now.

“Have you been hit?”

The man backed away as instructed, and Mitama allowed a small amount of relief to flood through her. Simply a small amount though. She knew better than to be overtrusting and presume that the man would be travelling without any companions at his side.

“You wish me no harm, yet you emerge from the same direction as the shortly passed assault. You do not pose yourself as a very nonthreatening figure.” Her eyes narrowed as his words seem to confirm it. “If you expected me struck down, then you anticipated the assault. What reason have you to venture here if not to finish what you have started?”

His question posed her little interest. Her eyes dropped once again to the staff at his feet. Mages preferred tomes, and she knew few healers who did not travel with a staff at their side, but the laws of a new land did not come with the guarantee of any similarities. “You know healing magic?” She asked instead, eyes darting back up to the stranger’s.

Miscalculations [Open]

#ic #salem support #cultfreed #thread: miscalculations

[haikusandstareyes-blog]

Mitama let out a breath that may have been a laugh if one had the ability to focus hard enough to hear it. “Pardon my frankness, Milord, but those words are far more easily done on your part than on mine.” After all, while she had always had a vague notion of her father’s job and what it entailed, that did not mean she’d ever anticipated coming face to face with the high prince.

Ah, and there came the question of what she had been up to. Her eyes flicked quickly back to where she had been resting before back once more to the royal. She had little doubt her lack of...motivation would be nothing if not demotivating. With a sheepish laugh, Mitama gestured back to where she’d been lying.

“Nothing particularly inspiring, I am afraid. I was simply off to the land of dreams.”

endymion

#ic #ryoma support #hoshidanbrother #thread: endymion

[haikusandstareyes-blog]

Her father was laughing at her somewhere, she could feel it.

Mitama grit her teeth as she leaned against the trunk of a tree, hidden amidst the bushes and flora. Dirt was already staining her clothes, and she was certain she had seen great insects of disgusting size crawling about. She ignored it. Despite the crawling sensations nature at its finest left her with, she had greater concerns.

She was fortunate the arrow that had struck through her calf was the only to hit her. Not that it lessened the injury and its ramifications any, but one wound to treat was always better than becoming a pin cushion.

She hissed through her teeth as she inspected the wound as best as she could while standing on her other leg. She knew what she had to do, she’d done it before, but never on herself. The idea of facing the pain she’d warned against so often...not to mention the number of archers she clearly had to deal with now...

The sound of rustling had her head snapping up. So, they’d come to find her then. Mitama frowned, making herself as small as she could while she watched the person come forward into sight. A single man, who did not appear to have any sort of bow for her to worry about. That meant he had company. Unlucky.

Whatever Mitama had stumbled into, she was not intending to go easily. With great effort, she managed quietly to grab the bow she’d purchased in the last town she’d passed through and notched an arrow. Perhaps she should have pursued further training before travelling. It mattered little. She’d seen Setsuna and Kiragi aim a bow enough to replicate their posture.

“Drop your staff and back away from it.”

Miscalculations [Open]

“Klal Mechaim… uhni behak… behak matih ye’ta…”

A prayer in Dragontongue to the Fell God Loptous slipped through Salem’s lips as he gazed out at the  dusty road that weaved a path below him. The shadows of the thick forest canopy had just begun to disperse with the rising sun, and though he had renounced his faith, the decades-old ritual still found its way into him each time the first rays of dawn broke through the gloom.

“… de Imadu, ye’chaduim slo…”

As he murmured empty words to the one who would be the destroyer of their world, he ran his fingers absently along the fading runes carved into the pole of his Sleep staff. Several were nearly worn away, but magic pulsed faintly through them - fueled by Salem’s own reservoir of power - and gave them temporary form. He counted four hits more, at best.

“Klal Mech—”

A warbled birdsong halted the prayer. On a nearby branch, another man still dozed with his hands behind his head and one leg hanging down through the leaves. Salem had his doubts when Perne told him that he’d only rest his eyes for a few moments, and now his nap put the whole endeavor at risk. But before Salem could consider the tattered Wind tome in his pouch, a second call sprung Perne to his feet as if he hadn’t been asleep at all. His eyes met Salem’s and he gave a nod.

Salem closed his eyes and extended his senses through the forest, as far as his magic would allow, and found what had triggered their sentry: the forerunner of the caravan they were hoping to catch. Salem waited for him to approach the ambush point, and as he lifted his staff, Perne whistled for the archers to release their arrows.

“Wait!“ Salem called suddenly, scrambling to his feet, but from farther down the trail came the snapping of half a dozen bow strings. Poised to jumped down, Perne threw an impatient look over his shoulder.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Salem closed his eyes again. “For some reason… a large group is approaching along the western road.”

“What? They changed their route!?”

The runes along the Sleep staff’s pole brightened and Salem opened his eyes again.

“That should buy you time. Hurry.”

Perne nodded, blew a series of sharp whistles through his hands, and jumped down into the underbrush heading westward. The injuries from his escape from the Church for Salem to return to the ground more carefully, but he set off at a limping sprint to the location that had been the first ambush. If the caravan had changed routes, then the person they had caught in their trap was likely no more than an innocent traveler.

A handful of arrows lodged in the earth and at the base of the trees slowed Salem’s feet.

“Ho, traveler!” he called to the clearing. “Are you unharmed?”

#((Mitama's a priestess now cause fuck you I do what I want)) #ic #salem support #cultfreed #thread: miscalculations

[haikusandstareyes-blog]

galdr-of-sorrow‌:

haikusandstareyes‌:

Mitama frowned. Telling a priestess that he would not wait for the healing to settle was likely not the best move he could have made in this situation, but she was not going to lecture him beyond what she presumed he already knew. She simply let out a slow sigh through her nose. Somehow, her father’s grievances felt familiar…

Prince? Mitama blinked at the sudden information. She had not expected him to be some kind of royalty. As she inspected him though, she supposed that it should have been far more evident. There was something about his looks that seemed far different from those she was accustomed to meeting, that went beyond the simple wings that adorned his back.

“Former prince? I was not aware that the position of one’s blood was something that could be retracted as time passed.” She mused. She wondered what their own royal family would think if they heard such a statement. She was sure her father would enjoy the thought.

“Ah…perhaps not wholly.” Mitama hesitated a moment. She was not sure how much crossover there would be from one world to the next. It was a dangerous path to tread… “I had companions that were capable of transformations, but none of them had ever sprouted wings before. That is…common?”

“Ah, yes…” Reyson muses.  His speech is slowed by the exhaustion of his body, but still clear.  “It is… different for us.  Laguz do not value blood in the same way that beorc- humans- do.  Some tribes have ruling families, while others choose their leaders based on strength rather than lineage. We have no child kings or feeble rulers given power solely by their birth.”  While Apostle Sanaki has grown into a capable young woman and more than earned his forgiveness and respect, he cannot help but wonder how many of the Senate’s machinations might have been prevented had they had a true ruler from the start rather than a toddling figurehead. "But regardless,” he says flatly, “a prince must have a kingdom, and mine was destroyed."  His tone does not invite requests for elaboration- at least not right now.  Though Serenes itself has been restored, it is not a kingdom without its people, and they are gone.

Despite skirting around a still-sensitive topic, he cannot help but chuckle at her phrasing.  “I wouldn’t say that we sprout wings- we are born with them, and they are part of us in both of our forms.” He hopes that she will not ask for a demonstration- he highly doubts he could manage to transform now.  "But your surprise does tell me that you have not come upon my companions."  He sighs, his smooth forehead wrinkled with worry and frustration.  “I fear I have brought them to harm with my foolishness.  Not for the first time.”

“Ah, there are still similarities in form though the species may differ, it seems.” Selkie had a tail after all. She supposed it was much the same in that there were simply features that persisted regardless of shape.Still. Wings. The only beast she had seen to sport wings was Kana and their parent and...that was not always a time of pleasantries.

There was a tone to his explanation regarding his homeland that left little room for further pursuit. For the best, it seemed. Mitama was seldom able to visit her own deeprealm home after leaving. It felt just as lost to her at times, not having the help of Lilith to venture back easily. At times she wondered if she would be recognized if she ever made it back, or if too much time had simply past.

“I have seen no one else of avian descent since I arri...since I made my way into the forest. If they pursued you, however, they are likely to be injured as well, correct?” Mitama frowned at the thought. Though she should not involve herself too deeply into the affairs of a foreign land, she hated to leave someone injured when she could easily have mended a situation.

With a sigh, she moved to her feet. “I will assist you then. Do you have any idea what direction might be best to look in?”

#ic #galdr of sorrow #reyson support #thread: nosedive

[haikusandstareyes-blog]

“Yes, that is correct, milord.” Mitama bowed her head politely once more as she scrambled up to her feet. It helped little, as her stature still left the prince towering over her. She frowned to herself as she absently brushed off any dust from her skirt.

“How very kind of you, to make the effort to travel and greet all of your subjects personally.” Though it left her a tad unsure how to go about this. Despite her father’s profession, she was unused to the lords and ladies of Hoshido. She’d heard tales of the eldest princess, but Prince Ryoma? She was at a loss in how to act, really.

“Warmest greetings are / delivered most swiftly when / face to face, quite true. I would not expect that one leading us on would have the time to spare for each pawn he commands.”

endymion

#ic #ryoma support #hoshidanbrother #thread: endymion

[haikusandstareyes-blog]

endymion

@hoshidanbrother

Marching was long and tedious. Mitama had grown used to it in the short time she’d joined her father’s fight. However, there was a distinct difference between enjoying the life of a soldier and tolerating it.

Which was why Mitama was so thankful for the deeprealm Lilith had guided them to to provide the army shelter. While no where near the comfort of the home she’d grown in, it was far more pleasant than marching in the land of her ancestors and having to struggle their way through cold and wet.

Mitama had been assigned to inventory for the day, and while the simple and indoor task was to her liking, there was only so long she could count before her eyelids began to droop. That was fine. Surely no one would miss her for a moment.

With a yawn, Mitama stretched her limbs, slowly coming out of the small nook she’d settled in to sleep. It had been nice. What was less light was the bright red suit of armor that caught her attention, and the man wearing it who had discovered her. Mitama froze.

“Milord! Good morning. To what do I owe the pleasure of your acquaintance?” She squeaked.

#((Sorry this is late lol)) #ic #ryoma support #hoshidanbrother #thread: endymion

[haikusandstareyes-blog]

nohrianlance‌:

The honor–?!

“Excuse me? ‘The honor of choosing my departing’?” Silas scoffs. “Are you even listening to yourself? Perhaps I should tell you that just prior to my choice to abandon all I ever knew and fight against the country I’ve sworn to protect, I was on the ground ready to die at the hands of my best friend.” Silas stops himself. Why must he explain all this, when it’s clear that Mitama cannot, will not understand? She’s right–by living in the Deeprealm, what does she know of loyalty to one’s homeland? 

“What matters isn’t that I was able to leave in the first place. It’s that I cannot even return, though I want to.” Silas swallows back his frustration, his voice grows tighter with each word. “Nohr is my home. Everyone in the castle knows this. The royal family knows this. Even Corrin knows this. If I could go back right now and help them, I’d leave this moment. But I can’t. I fought against the king because he would kill us all, and yet my countrymen will not hesitate to call me a traitor.” He spits the word out like a curse, more pained than bitter. He isn’t a traitor. He isn’t a traitor, and yet if he returns home now he will be treated as a traitor should. “You are more than old enough to make your own decisions. You are not stuck here as I am. If you feel so out of place here as I do, why not do what I cannot and go back to your Deeprealm? Surely you must have the honor of choosing your return.”

Mitama blinked. It dawned on her, suddenly, that she was angry. She had not intended that.

She wondered if she really was no better than her father, wherever he was. She did not like the thought.

“...you are aware of the difference between the time that flows here and there.” He had to be. Most of the others had children like her who’d grown in the bat of an eye, and she held little interest in trying to puzzle out the mystery of time if he did not. “To grow so many years in the span of such little time here. A similar amount of time has passed since I arrived here, has it not? That begs the question of whether or not there is anything left...Would I return, would anyone I know be there? I’m quite frightened of it, as a matter of fact.”

Mitama fell quiet. Had the same amount of years passed? If she were to set foot on her childhood soil, would everyone be gone, moved on as she was no longer there to care for? Would anything be the same as it was, years passing in a few days for her??

With a sigh, she turned to the retainer, papers left on the table. She bowed her head. “I must apologize. I did not intend to allow my tongue to get away from me.”

ghost house

#ic #silas support #nohrianlance #thread: ghost house

[haikusandstareyes-blog]

I’m too tired tonight, please like this post if you would like me to write you a starter!

#ooc #tbd

[haikusandstareyes-blog]

galdr-of-sorrow‌:

Reyson laughs weakly, breathing slowly to avoid setting off a coughing fit.  “I am not the average being.  Nor am I known for my patience.”  With a sigh, he continues, “My kind are…unfortunately well-known for their frail bodies.  I have suffered worse injury than this.”  He does not elaborate further- a stranger does not need to hear the humiliating details of his poorer choices.

“Mitama,” he repeats, turning over the unfamiliar syllables on his tongue.  It could fit in with the beorc names in Begnion, perhaps, but not quite.  Foreign, then.  She feels foreign- he can feel her uncertainty towards her surroundings and towards him, though there is a guarded quality to her emotions that he does not press for the moment.  Her heart seems anchored somewhere far away.

“I am Prince Reyson of Serenes.”  There’s no reason to refer to himself as a prince now that the bird tribes have united into a single nation, but it still slips out often.  Perhaps his pride cannot quite let it go, or perhaps he is still determining how to define himself as he is now.  Before she can launch into any of the sort of groveling that some beorc (and a few laguz) display towards royalty, he corrects himself.  “Former prince.  Please, just call me Reyson.”

“I believe so, yes.”  He chances a bit more movement, letting them drag along the forest floor, then shaking loose the damp leaves that have clung to the bedraggled feathers.  They move well, and he gives her a firm nod. “I am in your debt.” The continued hesitancy in her voice at the mention of his wings gives him pause, and his lips quirk knowingly. “These are wholly unfamiliar to you, aren’t they?  Are there no laguz where you come from?”

Mitama frowned. Telling a priestess that he would not wait for the healing to settle was likely not the best move he could have made in this situation, but she was not going to lecture him beyond what she presumed he already knew. She simply let out a slow sigh through her nose. Somehow, her father’s grievances felt familiar...

Prince? Mitama blinked at the sudden information. She had not expected him to be some kind of royalty. As she inspected him though, she supposed that it should have been far more evident. There was something about his looks that seemed far different from those she was accustomed to meeting, that went beyond the simple wings that adorned his back.

“Former prince? I was not aware that the position of one’s blood was something that could be retracted as time passed.” She mused. She wondered what their own royal family would think if they heard such a statement. She was sure her father would enjoy the thought.

“Ah...perhaps not wholly.” Mitama hesitated a moment. She was not sure how much crossover there would be from one world to the next. It was a dangerous path to tread... “I had companions that were capable of transformations, but none of them had ever sprouted wings before. That is...common?”

#ic #reyson support #galdr of sorrow #thread: nosedive

[haikusandstareyes-blog]

nohrianlance‌:

Silas’ initial passion fizzes out faster than he wants to. In his heart he still wants to fight for his homeland’s honor, but in shifting the subject Mitama has denied him that. It at least gives him the chance to calm down enough to speak more thoughtfully, carefully. “…I can’t say much on those Deeprealms. I’ve little experience with them.” While many of his friends and allies became parents during the war, Silas remains childless. Things are already complicated at the moment without having a baby to worry about. And to have that baby be months old but physically only be a few years shy of your own age… He can barely wrap his head around how old Mitama is supposed to be now.

“All I know is that there is some distinct separation between the Deeprealm and…” Silas furrows his brows in thought. “…The Mainrealm? This world that we live in right now. I meant that you grew up separately from this world, in relative safety, with Hoshidan culture. It’s not your fault, but… well, I believe that there are some things that only experience can teach you. It’s a fine thing to be sitting pretty as you philosophize over the true meaning of loyalty to one’s country when the situation has never and hopefully will never be forced upon you.”

Silas goes silent for a minute and watches Mitama work on her canvas, hoping that his words sink in, that she understands. He brings his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs as he rests his chin on his knees. “I don’t know how it felt to be raised the way you were. From what I’ve seen, you grew up in a secluded world with caretakers to raise you, presumably in Hoshidan culture.” Silas looks over at Mitama. “So that you would have ‘the mentality of one who grew up in its borders’, as you put it. Do I have that right?”

Mitama frowned. Whatever he intended with his words, he certainly chose a grating way to go about it. She wondered if there was some joy in it. Lecturing a child. She certainly did not see the satisfaction in it.

“And who is to say what loyalty I should feel to whom?” She asked in return, sparing him a brief glance. “What I knew of Hoshido in youth came purely through the mouth of my father. And it did not take me long with our numbers to realize that my Father’s perception seems a rare one with Hoshido’s citizens.”

The next fold she made was harsher than she intended. Her frown deepened. “Who is to even say that the land we inhabitant currently is even the “mainrealm” as you so put it. Who are we to decide that the lives of those in the deeprealms are any less their own mainrealm than ours?”   

She took a breath, steady, the best attempt at calming that she could muster. “My experience with Hoshido is second hand. I did not see the world my father was so prepared to throw my life onto the battlefield for until I joined you all. Who is to say I know Hoshido at all? Or that I have any right to claim it as homeland. I was not born here, I was born in a deeprealm. I have spent far more time off these lands than on.”

She fell quiet, sudden and abrupt. That...was far more than she intended to bring up initially. Her fingers drummed the table a moment before she huffed. “At least you had the honor of choosing your departing.”

ghost house

#ic #silas support #nohrianlance #thread: ghost house

[haikusandstareyes-blog]

galdr-of-sorrow‌:

Reyson breathes slowly and deeply as she begins to work. It’s a strange, not entirely pleasant feeling to be healed by human magic- tingling, warm and cold in turns, and he can feel the skin and bones slowly knitting back together. His gaze turns to the sky- a deceptively clear blue after the tempest the previous night- and he lets his mind wander to distract from the discomfort.

The first image that comes to mind is the fury on Tibarn’s that inevitably comes after Reyson has done something foolish and worried him, but he puts that aside. He’ll face that when he must. First he must find his escort- likely they’ll find him first, but in case they are injured as well, he’ll have to search himself.

When he drifts back to awareness, the pain in his body and wings has faded to a dull ache. It isn’t gone yet- he has found that the body can only absorb so much healing magic at once, and he has reached his limit for the moment. A twitch of his wings brings relief- nothing feels permanently damaged- but they are still too weak to fly. For now, it seems he remains grounded with his strange companion.

“….Thank you….” he murmurs, groaning softly as he struggles to sit up against the tree. “What…is your name?”

He’s struggling to push himself up sooner than she expected. Mitama blinked, hesitating, but tentatively placed her hands on his back to steady him. “You should be patient with your movement, you suffered more breaks than the average...being should.” She had expected to have to heal him more, honestly, but it seemed that was as far as she was to at this time.

With him upright, she took her hands back and folded them in her lap. She was uncertain what to do now. To leave the stranger alone in the forest would cause her to worry about him, but despite his lightness, he was large. She wasn’t sure she would be able to move him anywhere.

“Ah, I am Mitama.” She answered calmly, glancing to her rod. Ordinarily she was of the habit of tacking on a title of some kind to follow her name, but she found as of late that it was more trouble than it was worth in these unfamiliar lands she was visiting. A longing for home moved through her, but she quickly brushed the thought away.

“Your...wings. Are they alright?” She asked, looking them over. They did not seem to have any damage to them, but she lacked the familiarity she had with her birds to assume he would share any weakness with her.

#ic #reyson support #galdr of sorrow #thread: nosedive

[haikusandstareyes-blog]

In a crowded ball room such as this one, it was easy to allow things to slip past as you were distracted by others. In a brilliant array of lights, sounds, and quickly paced dancers, Mitama found herself so distracted, smiling absently as she watched the couples laugh and twirl.

It was one of the nicer aspects of travelling.To find herself thrown accidentally into a celebration of mirth. It was when towns were at their most beautiful, and they often lead to fond stories for Mitama to recount when she found herself returned to familiar company.

So she supposed it had been quite simple to slip the fingers around her neck while she’d been immersed in the gaiety around them.

Her scream was drowned out by the music and stomping, but Mitama flailed about in an attempt to get away from the grasp. Staff held tightly in hand, she jabbed the butt end behind her, feeling it come into contact with something. She managed to slip free and turned rapidly with a glare on her face. A complete stranger, so she could not even write it off as a poorly done jest. “Brute! Explain yourself.”

Kaleidoscope [Event Open]

A busy room, full of color, full of people, full of quintessence. Shining things. Floating things. Long things hanging from the ceilings and walls. Silks and fine clothing. Petals torn from flowers and scattered across rugs to be trampled by the many pairs of feet coming in and out of the grand castle. When a magical Gate had opened up before Limstella, this kaleidoscope of sensation had not been what they had expected to find on the other side. Dragons, fire, perhaps even Lord Nergal himself - all more comfortable and familiar things - should have awaited them. That had been the way Lord Nergal’s gates had worked.

Limstella quickly sidestepped away from a whirling pair, baring teeth at one another as they clutched hands in some unusual struggle for power, and watched them rejoin the other couples locked in similar contest across the polished floor. Strangely, none wielded weapons, and neither did they draw blood. But they went on and on wrestling with one another.

Perhaps this had been a final gift from Lord Nergal. Quintessence filled the room, some beautiful, some insignificant, and some even more magnificent than that of the Black Fang. While none compared to Lord Nergal’s vast power, several enticed Limstella nonetheless. A new master had to be among them.

Eyes began to follow them as they crossed the center of the room, but Limstella paid them no mind, nor those they pushed aside in pursuit of their target. At last they came to the one they sought, and stepped carefully closer. The person still did not notice them, and Limstella observed them silently for several seconds, until, slowly, they extended an arm -

- and clasped long, cold fingers around the back of their neck.

#ic #limstella support #thread: kaleidoscope #subservio

[haikusandstareyes-blog]

sapphirerigelian‌:

“Oh, no, it’s not normal at all. Other than military women, which are rare, all women wear gowns.”

It was especially common, particularly in noblewomen, for dresses to be woolen. They conformed better to the body where desired, and protected from the cold of Rigel. Though many such gowns could be an irritant to the skin, Rinea owned many woolen dresses that were perfectly comfortable - gifts from Lord Berkut, mostly. Those he gifted her were always lined with fine felt, delicate to the touch.

“Even what I’m wearing now is very unusaul,” she continued, gesturing at her light cotton dress. The soft pink color gazed back at her, with a hem of embroidered cherry petals flapping in the slight breeze. Crafted by a Hoshidan tailor, special for her arrival. Berkut had had it ordered special when she’d agreed to accompany him.

“It’s so… light! I almost feel as if I don’t have a dress on at all,” she said with a soft laugh.

In fact, she almost felt light headed. The lack of a corset was startling. Rinea almost had too much oxygen.

“Women here seem very… I don’t know. They’re doing all the same things men do.”

Mitama frowned curiously to herself. She found it strange to think that women would wear nothing but gowns at all times. Even Mitama herself had different wear for different occasions, and while she had never stepped foot on a farm herself (and never would if she could help it), it seemed impractical to work in a “gown” as Rinea had put it.

Rigel seemed to be far more Nohrian in taste than Hoshido. Which, in all fairness, Mitama had not had the chance to experience fully either outside of the framing of war time. She should venture over to their neighbor sometime soon and explore. It would be a sight to see.

“There are social cues in place that are perhaps unrecognizable to you.” Mitama replied gently. While tasks could be accomplished by anyone, that did not mean that they would be. There was a reason Mitama was specifically a shrine maiden after all, whilst their Nohrian counterparts shared a role betwixt them.

“Are you alright? You seem a bit overwhelmed.”

#ic #rinea support #thread: wandering #sapphirerigelian

[haikusandstareyes-blog]

galdr-of-sorrow‌:

“…Outfit?” he repeats, blinking, too dumbfounded even to be offended.  There would be no purpose to playing dumb in this situation, but…could she really not know what laguz are?  Reyson isn’t entirely sure how that could be possible in the heart of Gallia, but he’ll cross that bridge when he isn’t bleeding everywhere.

“I’m…” he breaks off, unsure of where to begin in explaining his very existence to someone with no concept of it.  Though some beorc may hate or fear those they call “sub-humans”- though fewer, blessedly, than a few short years ago- he has never met one who has simply never heard of them.  Perhaps his inkling that she is from another land altogether was correct.  But he’s far too exhausted to transform, or to launch into some sort of lengthy history of Tellius, so there must be another way to address the problem at hand.

He supposes he’ll have to show, if he cannot tell.

Slowly, excruciatingly, he extends his wings skyward.  Several more broken feathers flutter to the ground as they tremble, both their nature and the damage to them made obvious.  The exertion and pain nearly take the wind out of him, and in that moment it feels as though he’s never hated his fragile excuse for a body more.  After a moment to make his point, he lets them fall behind rather than atop him, exposing the damage to his clothing from the fall and his wounded leg.

“Not…not an outfit,” he says obviously, and clenches his teeth, rather humbled by his own helplessness.  “…Swear to explain but…please…”

For a moment he seemed baffled by her words, and she worried that he had bled out far more than she had initially thought. She had not expended him to respond to her request with a demonstration of any kind. 

He had wings. Huh.

It took her brain a moment to process the thought. She had never seen anyone with wings before, she had assumed those who transformed remained a beast of the land, like Selkie or Velour. His voice reached her and she immediately snapped forward, rod held in one hand. “My apologies...”

Broken bones, far more than she expected. They felt strange to the touch. A light squeeze to his arm to check for damage proved lighter than she expected. Curious. It reminded her in part of the birds she raised at home when she was young. She supposed based on the wings that this made sense.

Slowly, she allowed magic to pass through the rod and into the body spread out on the ground. She was careful, unsure how much was needed to heal something that felt so fragile. She took her time as she treated him, softly checking for any injuries she could spy.

#ic #reyson support #thread: nosedive #galdr of sorrow

[haikusandstareyes-blog]

nohrianlance‌:

Silas’ shoots Mitama a look, plainly offended. “No.” His eyes narrow at her, and his lips are pressed flat. “I don’t know what kind of man you think I am, but when I was on that battlefield fighting against my countrymen and everything I’ve ever known, I didn’t do it out of hatred for Nohr. The opposite, in fact. Corruption was destroying us from the inside out. This ‘Nohrian Way’ of unrestrained destruction to anyone that rightfully sought justice was not what I believed in. If I was again given the choice to die for a Nohr I didn’t believe in or fight for a better future for us… my decision won’t change.”

A sharp huff makes the papers at the top of the pile flutter. Silas drops his hand down on them to keep them still.

“I’ve noticed that you are your father’s daughter.” Azama is well known for trying to get a rise out of people. It should be no surprise that Mitama would be the same as well. Perhaps it would have been better to deflect her, but as soon as the thought comes to mind he pushes it aside. This is more than just a matter of pride. Brushing it off wasn’t, and isn’t, an option. “If his teachings and near-total seclusion were all you grew up with, then it makes sense that there is little you know beyond that.” Hearing himself say that, Silas realizes that his words are far more cutting than he intended. Well, he’s never been known for being a dishonest man.

“I don’t think you any kind of man. I haven’t had the opportunity to know you beyond your name.” He spoke words that rung like quite the nobleman. It was a stark contrast to her father who fought because Lady Hinoka asked it of him. She could seldom remember her father speaking of anything with such great a conviction to his tone, aside from when he was “aiding” others. Mitama frowned to herself and absently picked up another sheet when the elder moved his hand.

“I would certainly hope that I am. If not I believe I have unjustly suffered her whims for far too long for someone not of his blood.”

She considered his words for a moment, but they were shortly followed by a shrug. “To say I was secluded with my father’s guidance grants him far more credit that I would allow him. To be secluded with something, it must be present.” At least her father had the sense to let her rest somewhere Hoshidan like in architecture. Mitama sniffed. “I believe that most of your generation were quite busy for mine.”

ghost house

#ic #silas support #nohrianlance #thread: ghost house

[haikusandstareyes-blog]

nohrianlance‌:

Mitama’s answer takes Silas aback. Why wouldn’t you? is the first thought on his mind, but he swallows the words back. Is this the Hoshidan attitude towards art? “I wouldn’t consider mosaics cold at all. I’ve seen these massive ones that look like paintings up until you get close to them and see the little tiles that compose them.” Silas pinches his thumb and index finger close together, showing how small the tiles were. “They’re all quite impressive, and old. People go through great lengths to preserve them.”

Nohr appreciates what endures, the things that withstand the elements and resist the wear of time. Silas rubs the corner of one of Mitama’s sheets of paper between his fingers, feeling how thin it is, how fragile. “I see where you’re coming from, about beauty fading and how everything decays eventually, people coming and going. It’s far from a foreign idea in Nohr. You asked why you would want something that outlasts you, and my answer is this: so that someone or something’s power, their beauty, their stories and memories can continue to be enjoyed by other people.” There’s an obviously tacked onto the end of that sentence, unspoken but clear in his tone. “A great deal of work goes into preserving mosaics and paintings and sculpture, to have them last years, decades, centuries, even. There’s no sense in allowing art to rot away just because the subject has.”

The paper tears, a small yet noticeable rip near the corner, and Silas lets it go. “When we have a chance to return to Nohr, perhaps I could take you to see those mosaics I was talking about.”

He’s taken one of her papers. Mitama does not need that one at the moment, so she allows it, biting down on the remark that would have surely echoed her father’s tongue. While the Nohrian man was...strange, and his arrival and questioning made little sense to her, but he seemed to intend no harm up until this point.

He ripped her paper. She frowned minutely.

“Perhaps. And perhaps that is the way in Hoshido as well. Far be it from either of us to claim knowledge of the mentality of one who grew up in its borders.” If there is a bitterness to her tone, it is undetected and unintended by its speaker. Her brush is placed back to the side and replaced with thin tweezers. Mitama delicately set about lifting the fibers and placing them until the smears of glue.

“Then again my father’s mentality is the one I grew most accustomed to, and he hardly spoke fondly in terms of art at all.” She did not sigh, for it would jostle her canvas, but after placing the first her eyes flicked over to the knight. “...You seem eager to return to your homeland. Regret, perhaps, for the decisions you have made?”

ghost house

#ic #silas support #nohrianlance #thread: ghost house

[haikusandstareyes-blog]

galdr-of-sorrow‌:

Reyson isn’t sure what he expects- one of the beast tribes, maybe, or Crimea’s knights if they’re near the border- but it certainly isn’t a lone beorc girl who looks little older than a child.  Her garb is nothing like that of the beorc he’s known, but that means little- he doesn’t make a point to keep up with their fashion trends.  The staff, at least, he recognizes and welcomes- though they lack the herons’ ancient magic, he has witnessed the great talent beorc can have for the arcane arts.  Hopefully she is one of them.

He pulls one wing back a bit and shoves his tangled mess of hair from his eyes to get a better look at her.  She isn’t rushing to his aid, just blinking owlishly as though she has no idea what she’s looking at.  Some healer.  He can feel that she means him no harm, but he has little patience for gawking, and the soreness and the stupidity of the entire situation have left him more irritable than usual.

“You look-” he snaps, breaking off with a pained groan when he tries to move, “-as though you’ve never seen a laguz before.  Surely we’re past this.”  He grits his teeth, as if he can will his useless body to function- it galls him to be this helpless in front of anyone, let alone some curious stranger.  “Do you plan to help me or stare all day?”

His tone causes her to jump out of the stupor she’d found herself in. She is certain her cheeks flushed at the sudden reprimand, but she quickly pushed that feeling aside. If it happened it did, and her father would surely have scolded her for dwelling on pointless emotions.

“My apologies, sir.” Careful as she could she rushed forward to meet his crumpled form. She did not know what could have possibly caused such a state. From what she could see, there were no signs of a battle in their surroundings, though the trees did seem rather beaten in the surrounding area. She wondered what had caused his injury. 

Carefully, she knelt by his side. It was difficult with the feathers of his outfit everywhere, blocking the view of his injured form. She frowned, placing her staff down beside her. “What exactly seems to be the injury?” She was hesitant to touch a stranger, let alone a grown man, but she needed to be certain. The feathers were making it difficult. “I don’t know what a laguz is...and could you please remove your feathery outfit so I may work?”

#ic #reyson support #galdr of sorrow #thread: nosedive