#irroche

[crestbound]

queen's gambit

Sylvain rarely buys things for himself beyond the occasional cologne and beauty product, things that he uses to keep himself properly groomed and presentable. But today, see, is a bit of a special day; today, in the marketplace just beyond the monastery’s gates, there is a merchant with graying hair and shaking hands. Crow’s feet cradle her eyes, accentuated when Sylvain approaches. 

He’d told her his name months ago and he towers over her by two feet, but she’d called him her little lad since the first time he’d dropped by her stall and hasn’t stopped since. Affectionately and in return, he’s taken to calling her his big grandmother. Her laugh always makes him smile, too.

“Took a while, but it’s done,” she tells him, and holds out a delicate box, made of wood and decorated by fire. On the side, she has written, in her neat script: for Sylvain. “You’ve got high standards, little lad.”

“I think you’re just using me to hide the fact that you’re still a perfectionist after all these years,” he teases her, and sets a heavy bag of coin down on her table. The box she gives him is heavy; he cradles it to his chest like it’s the most valuable thing in the world. At this point, it feels like it is. 

“You’ve overpaid again.” She knows, even without lifting the bag.

“Have I?” Sylvain smiles. “No way. I’m only a little terrible with numbers, you know.”

She bats at him with a laugh. “Yes, yes, I’m sure. Now take your bleeding heart away from my stall. You’ll tell me next week how you like the pieces.”

“I’ll love it,” he tells her, and with his promises to swing by again, he takes his box—a chess set, handcrafted by the old woman and her sons—to return to the monastery. He can hardly keep the excitement from his face when he passes through the gates. Why, if there weren’t so many people around, he might even be tempted to skip. 

But he has a reputation to uphold, which means no skipping—and, upon sighting one gorgeous Constance von Nuvelle, it also means it’s his Goddess-given duty to approach her.

“Well hello there, Constance! I’d say it’s a beautiful day today, but compared to how lovely you look, everything else seems to pale in comparison. What brings you out here?”

@irroche

#thread: queen's gambit #irroche #support: constance #this got long for an intro please dont match it i WILL cry and bawl and scream and pass out

[sanktere]

holy ground.

          to have sent him for such a task with none of the rites and reliquaries necessary for its completion... it proves an unique kind of challenge. carrying only his personal effects and minimal knowledge of the situation, assured that the items and icons in this entrusted box would be enough... a quiet sigh swells within his chest but never quite leaves in breath. who was he to speak of what rituals would be adequate to purge the restless spirits of this land? but where he would have anticipated the combined efforts of a number of their vestry, led by the knowledgeable power of an elevated bishop, here was left to the best judgment of one ill-prepared monk.

          even so, he hadn’t the heart to tell them he had yet to finish studying through half of fodlan’s holy scripture, that only a scant few of the goddess’ prayers had been committed to memory, and none of them fitting for the occasion.

          his pay would not be earned with negligence, and these villagers truly seemed to suffer from their fear. that alone was enough to move his trepidations, and set him on the quiet path into the solitude of the resting grounds, remote along a countryside that, as he understands, had seen much change in the aftermath of a tragedy some years ago. even if the liturgies he knew so well should fail here, he would try what he could within his power.

          the first step being... to find the exact location.

          unmarked and disturbed graves shouldn’t prove elusive, yet the townspeople had been reluctant to direct him — to even speak of the sightings, though this was no surprise when the naming of the departed and unsleeping always carried a certain risk. lantern light chases away the immediate shadows of the early night, and when had a fog begun to roll in? the mildness of inchoate spring is warm, but not enough to fend off an inexplicable chill. he pulls the folds of his cloak a little tighter.

          snap. a twig, close by. lantern turns to his right, other hand moving instinctively to his staff. the mind plays tricks to recompense the unknown; this he knows.

          ❝ is someone there? ❞

       ✧   //    @irroche

#irroche #˙ ˖ ⊰ ✧ ⊱ 彡 thread ･ holy ground. #˙ ˖ ⊰ ✧ ⊱ 彡 constance ･ something is lost in the armageddon of her and the sun. #˙ ˖ ⊰ ✧ ⊱ 彡 axe ･ on the day he created justice¸ god left it to man instead. #at long last..................... #i finally write w constance LMSODFINSD

[aubins]

WHAT LIFE OUGHT TO BE

The rain came down so suddenly that none of you manage to get your umbrellas open in time… But since your gear is drenched and your clothing unsalvageable, you decide to have a little ‘sparring’ in the rain. You smack the other umbrella with yours and grin. En garde! [ Grants Sword +1  |  @irroche​​ ]

A brow arched. It’s just... “The supply caravan has been waylaid by a band of thieves”—lilac eyes shifted to the second rogue, whose gaze did not dare rise to meet his—“but it has also been stopped by the recent storms”—and at last to the third—“and the merchants have suddenly changed their mind after doing business with us for nearly a year?”

A beat passed. “Um, yes?” the youngest of the three squeaked.

...absurd. “Right.” Mockingbird sighed, fingers drumming against the hilt of his sword as he considered. Clearly, someone didn’t want him to figure out what had happened to that supply caravan, however obvious they were about trying to hide that information. “Until we figure out where that caravan’s gone, we’ll need to limit food rations.”

And that had been that, until another rogue returned to Abyss later in the day with a letter in hand. A request to meet and discuss the missing caravan in person. “From the merchants, is it?” he mused as he set the parchment aside. Doubtful. For as long as they’d done business together, messages had been passed through word of mouth and word of mouth alone. This was the lousiest attempt at a trap he’d ever seen. How or why was no longer the question, but who?

Moments later, a fist had rapped insistently against the door to Constance’s lab. “I know you’re in there, Constance,” Yuri called through wood. “I have need of your exceptional talents. Hurry up or we’ll get stuck in the rain.”

They get stuck in the rain anyway.

The sky cries before he even realizes that the sun has gone, an umbrella left to hang uselessly from his hand as he levels Constance with a flat look, shaking his head. “It’s been a long time since I’ve caught a cold,” he drawls, swatting aimlessly at the shaft of her umbrella with his own. Not that he minded letting whatever manner of rogue awaited them in town sweat a little. Let them make of his tardiness what they will; the stories people conjured from their imaginations would be far more entertaining than anything he could come up with. “Maybe I’ll be reminded of why I don’t like getting sick.”

Yuri smacks at her umbrella once more with a snort. “Aren’t you so glad I convinced you to join me?”

#irroche #❛ 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃. what life ought to be #hereee we go !! hope this works o/

[extenebris]

Gratitude in All Its Forms

event starter for @windsheedme, @irroche, @minorindech, @dragon-kiddos

“Everything you see in this place, we’ve made with our own hands.”

Salem inspects the carved wooden bowl of obsidian beads the young woman holds out to him. Like the dips in the wood where an unpracticed hand cut too deeply, each black piece in the bunch has its own character that sets it apart from the next. His eyes raise to the lopsided smile on Sienna’s face. Her chest and chin are lifted, and calluses and nicks decorate her dark knuckles alongside smears of dried white paint. After another moment, she pulls the bowl close and turns her back to exchange it for another example.

“You are quite talented,” Salem says, at a loss for anything more profound than that. He settles onto the stone stool and gazes thoughtfully up at the alcoves carved out of the walls, from which spheres of candlelight flicker and light the small space. His hands with their own scars come to rest on his knees.

“That’s kind of you to say, but it’s not really ‘talent.’ We all gotta learn to be practical with what we have,” Sienna says. She lifts onto her toes to unhook some sort of wind chime made of antler and shafts of igneous stone, and carries it to Salem with the stones spread across her free palm. He leans forward with interest.

“I’m sure you’ve seen these around the village.” She holds it up by the sinew that runs through two holes in the antler and glides her fingers across the rocks. Despite their heavy appearance, the chime is light and glass-like. “They represent our thanks to the Saint, and for each other.”

“For each other?” Salem glances up to catch Sienna’s grin. She had hoped he would ask.

“Every chime’s a gift. When you hear the music, you remember the person who had given it to you and whisper a prayer for their health.”

“I see…”

Sienna’s smile fades a little in the following silence, and strands of dark hair slide across her brow as she tilts her head.

“Oh! You know, I can teach ya how to make one,” she says decisively, emerald eyes lighting up again. “That way you have a souvenir to bring home to someone you care about, yeah? Oh—“

Salem turns to look over his shoulder curiously at the person who had caught Sienna’s eye in the entranceway, then glances back up toward her again. She laughs, wrinkling her nose, and her fists find her hips.

“Well, now I can make it a class! Come in, come in! I was just gonna show Salem here how to make a gift to take home.”

#labyrinthvalley2021 #event thread : gratitude in all its forms #windsheedme #irroche #minorindech #dragon kiddos

[wolfhednn]

IT’S A STORY ABOUT FREEDOM. — メ

          the crustaceans are rebelling, hungry for liberation from their oppressors. this makes sense, of course. actually, the whole of the wildlife on the beach are rebelling; seagrass wave their stalks in indignation, clamoring with voices heard only in inexplicable, inherent knowledge; ocean birds cry their fury, winging overhead in militant circles; shellfish clatter; horseshoe crabs scuttle up from the surf, spear-like tails jabbing at the sand; the whole stretch of sandbar rises up in revolution like a veritable army of marine life.

          he’s fighting alongside them. this, of course, also makes sense. in the same way that looking to his side and seeing the boar, as well as hubert of house vestra and a girl he’s only spoken with once but knows fleetingly as constance, the last remnant of house nuvelle, also makes complete sense.

          he’s never wielded a blade, which is what he understands the folding polearm device in constance’s hands to be. he’s never been skilled at magic. but what he does know — his fist, padded by the hollowed-out half of a coconut shell, slams into a plastic straw, which he doesn’t realize shouldn’t be so compact — is how to fight at close quarters. the soldier belonging to the lord baja blast’s men crumples to the sand, opening the way for their advance.

          ❝ we’re wasting our time here, ❞ he calls across to hubert, who, by understanding simply granted without origin, he knows to have been their tactician in this assault. ❝ where is the one leading them! ❞

» @vonvestra, @kingoftempests, or @irroche

#vonvestra #kingoftempests #irroche #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + / IT'S A STORY ABOUT FREEDOM . #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + / COLD LIGHT¸ THE SCARS OF A VINTAGE FAITH ‣ hubert . #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + / BLOOD SACRIFICE OF THE LAMB HEARTED ‣ dimitri . #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + / A NAME TO COST HALF A HEART IN RICHES ‣ constance . #this might be the single stupidest thing i have ever written LMAOOO #weirdly tho i had a dream once that was exactly like this #except it was in a city instead of the beach #and i was wielding cutlery

[perfectionist-prince]

Fit for a Queen (Closed: Siegbert and Constance)

Siegbert just wanted to brew a nice tea for the cooking festival.

He was no chef, nor did he ever claim to be. Growing up, he was privileged enough to have chefs, cooks, retainers, and the like that would take care of his meals. Even during the war, others took to dining hall duty while he aided in clean-up; never preparation. Looking back, Siegbert had never so much as cracked a few eggs to make a simple omelette or measured out flower for a cake. Could he follow a recipe if one was given? Sure, he had eyes and at least a third-grade-level reading comprehension, but had he ever done it? No sirree.

So why was he now in the process of planning out a five-course meal to enter into a cooking contest?

Ah, that’s right. He asked Lady Constance for help, and, well... perhaps Siegbert bit off a bit more than he could chew. Nevertheless, it was a good idea, and if they could pull it off, they could wow the judges more than any other team.

“So, we’re starting with a soup, then? I think for the soup, we should stick to something tried-and-true, like a chicken soup. We can do something a little more daring in the entree, yes?”

Daring, he says. As though it’s guaranteed they’ll not only be able to successfully produce a delicious-tasting soup, but an appetizer and a salad, as well, before moving onto the entree. Guaranteed.

@irroche

#irroche #𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑒 (threads) #thread: fit for a queen #𝒩𝑜 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴! (missions) #mission season: anniversary #yo how crazy would it be if i got starters out within a month of me saying i was gonna write them #fucking wacky bruv!!! #anyways im sowwy this took so long lils #kisses you on the mouf

[vonvestra]

Poetry in Motion [Hubert & Constance]

starter for @irroche | Reason +1

A follower in all other regards, Hubert takes a different approach with magic. It has never been enough for him to merely accept the spells of old scholars, no matter how “tried and true” they are, and his own proclivity for dark magic has made curiosity and innovation almost necessary. His makeup doesn’t allow him to merely cast fire - he has to translate it into something else - so he learned to be comfortable with spell experimentation from a young age. Granted, his creations have rarely been more than translations of standard elemental spells - he’s seen no need to fashion anything else - but the curiosity has always been there. Enough so that, even repressed for the sake of his role, it leads him to clear out his to-do list for Edelgard to make space for a rare spellcrafting seminar.

But he needs an excuse.

“Constance.” Hubert holds the flyer up to stop her from going… wherever it is that she’s going. Across the top reads Professor Strobarin, leading researcher in glyphic studies, and the rest is filled by an overly-flattering portrait of a mirthful young teacher instead of the beady-eyed, balding man by the same name. Seriousness etches hard lines into Hubert’s own expression as he makes his proposal:

“Provided that the professor makes his materials available to his lecture’s audience, this seminar seems a fine opportunity to test some of your inventions.” With Constance’s attention sufficiently held, Hubert lets his hand with the advertisement drop back to his side and a smirk snakes across his lips like a crack in stone. “I’ve my own reasons for attending, but I suspect yours would be bolstered by the opportunity to be observed by the future emperor’s right hand.”

#irroche #thread : poetry in motion #mission season: anniversary2020 #// thomas dolby anyone? no? #// title is from his song she blinded me with science

[jehannanmage]

✐! :0)

[ ancient OC meme ]

Meet Vetch!

He’s an oldie but a goodie-- in the sense that I’m still fond of him even if I’ve drawn him like all of three times (including this ‘un freshly scribble this eve) in the... many years I’ve had him. He popped up during a temp summer job i had landscaping, when I learned what the name of a particular weed called vetch... which to my understanding back then, the weed was the sort to quietly rise and tangle itself with another plant... and then strangle it, oop. Sinister.

Anyway this Vetch here is a high school bloke who gets into trouble more often than not - and typically, it’s not really His Fault. He’s got this aura about him that, like it or not, just makes people Angry, or On Edge, aggravated and the like.

Might be he learns to control it at some point -- but depending on what manner of individual scoops him up for this learning, and how fed up he is with people around him at that point... he may or may not bother... whoops.

I never actually did much with him beyond the odd contemplating but I know he lives in the same verse as two of my other OCs (who seem curiously unaffected by his odd ability), he plays in a band with them o: And I know he could either have grown to become a villain or just kinda chilled on the sidelines after his arc was over with and he learned to vibe~

Maybe I’ll circle back to him some day o:

#asks #thanks for the ask!! #yknow what maybe it'd be fun to empty my inbox before the 'new school year' #:thinking emoji: #but yeah thanks lilly orz #im love my ocs #this is ancient but idc aaaaa #irroche

[ashenclerc]

﹤ floralia ﹥ 

﹤ closed starter for @irroche. ﹥

﹤ bracelets ﹥

“I don’t think the color suits me,” he says flatly. The woman has his hand in a surprisingly firm grasp, and he can do nothing but watch as she secures the bracelet around his wrist. He sighs; he’s grown soft, he supposes. 

He senses something—someone’s—presence, and he can’t help but glance over the old lady’s shoulder, only to see who else but Constance, in a glum mood once more. “Constance,” he calls for her loudly, and if he startles her he gets a strange sort of satisfaction out of it. “Over here.”

He sees the moment when the woman registers there’s another victim to peddle the ugly bracelets to. He stifles a snort, wondering if Constance had the power to resist her old lady wiles.

#irroche #﹤ thread: orange is the color of autumn. ﹥ #﹤ ic. ﹥ #toafloralia2020

[alfvangr]

eden’s refulgence.

     It haunts him, on occasion. That there are times where he lacks the means to ease the suffering of others in whatever form it takes, all too ready to lambast himself for what he perceives to be a personal failure regardless of whether there is anything he could have done. ( too slow, never fast enough; the desperation with which he screams a name— ) No individual exists capable of solving every problem or overcoming every obstacle given them, of course, and he certainly understands that well enough from experience, yet... It feels wrong not to at least try—because to turn away from another’s pain is something he cannot do. 

     Perhaps it is to be expected of one who so gladly bleeds for the sake of peace.

     The dull scratch of pen on paper is but one of several sounds that make up the atmosphere of the seminar, steady hand giving form to near scribe-quality writing when sea-blue gaze isn’t fixed on the priest giving his lecture at the front of the room. Truth be told, it’s nothing Alfonse hasn’t already learned from books or from the summoned Heroes lending their strength to the Order, though the concept remains difficult to wrap his mind around. Fódlan’s black magic is structured around the use of glyphs and formulas, yet its white magic is based on little more than the measure of one’s faith in something, thereby granting them the ability to cast spells such as Heal and Nosferatu. While the basis is admittedly similar to a degree in many other lands or worlds, it certainly isn’t the end-all, be-all in order to make use of them—certain individuals could probably testify to that effect, if asked.

     But he is here to learn, his own misgivings aside, and so attention turns to the young woman seated to his right when prompted to discuss with one another regarding the subject matter. “Do you suppose there are any alternatives to just...believing strongly in a cause or important figure? Like the staves used by healers who hail from other countries.” Which defeats the purpose, Alfonse supposes, but he can’t particularly imagine being able to close a person’s wounds through faith alone.

@irroche

#irroche #『 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 — eden’s refulgence. 』 #『 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 — reflection of a hundred and one worlds. 』 #『 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓 — constance. 』 #『 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 — anniversary2020. 』 #『 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓 — faith. 』 #// better late than never...... lmk if you need more to work with #// l&k was a while ago but (jazz hands) if you catch the reference #// idk if this even makes sense anymore it's sunrise and i have a headache

[boundlesshart]

sticky fingers

starter for @irroche

If they don't pick up the pace, they'll lose the guy. Claude pulls his hood forward, casting his face his shadow, as he hurries through the crowd with Constance in tow. "I'm telling you, he said Saint Noa and relic in stock! In the same sentence!" Eavesdroppers are abound, but he lets the implications finish his thoughts in the silence that follows. If there are "missing Crests", then there ought to be "missing relics". And if there's missing relics, what's the chance that it would resonate with Constance's crest? And if it resonates with Constance's crest, thanks to Claude's keen hearing and quick judgement, of course, perhaps she would be inclined to pay back for the massive favor.

The chance of all that happening? Probably far, far less than the chance of getting scammed outright, but Claude's gotten this far blindly taking risks. His guy moves against the flow of the crowd, turns a corner into an alley that looks appropriately creepy and unpopulated. He opens a door, and a small bell rings. A store, Claude decides, and an ugly one too, as he rounds the corner as well. No, not ugly, but lacking in curb-appeal. Almost like it's trying too hard to pass off as a forgettable hole-in-the-wall with little to offer.

Claude takes a step back, gesturing the door to Constance. "Ladies first. Do you feel that magical, special-ical Crest connection yet?"

#t. sticky fingers #irroche #finally got it out.... #let me know if it's hard to respond to so that i can rewrite :0

[theindigoflirt]

she does not care for his flirtations. not the first, nor the second time. so perhaps she could say that this was motivated by spite or equal parts, annoyance. still, constance leverages another pie as she spies that dastardly fiend from the blue lions house and flings her pie with reckless abandon down the hall. call it a calculated revenge.

Every nerve is on edge. Walking from one shadowed corner to the next is a test of stealth. Out of pies and in dire need of a good luck kiss, Inigo scurries across the open field to the dorms. He needs a moment to regroup, recover his strength--

Roll: 11! (barely hit)

Second roll: 12! 

Instinct makes him dodge at the last possible second. Spinning out of harms’ way on one foot, he narrowly avoids becoming a handsome victim in this vicious war. “Constance! Darling, there are better ways to get my attention.” Inigo tosses her a wink and darts away toward the safety of his room. 

#did i make you smile? [asks] #irroche #piemaggedon2

[gallantgautier]

🌴🌱 if any, though not specific to this blog, lmao. ......... also, you can't say sylvain for the first one. :0(

Munday Asks Not Accepting

🌴 = a favorite canon character in my fandom

I’m allowed to say Felix though, right? I kid, I already waxed poetic about him earlier. So let’s go to another favourite.

Alois

Look I just... Love him. He’s not complicated, he loves his family, he’s bright and sunny and tells dad jokes. Seriously, all a character has to do is tell dad jokes and I’m instantly sold. There’s a reason I have a unique rank in another discord server called “Dad.” He’s a kindred spirit. Love that man.

🌱 = a plot I want to write with you

OKAY THERE’S SOMETHING REALLY SPECIFIC I WANNA DO. But... Idk if I can talk about it cuz it’s related to one of your current threads and.., I just... I’m so here for it.

I would like to thread with Constance some day though! Like, these two are just... Polar opposites. The shenanigans could be real. You won’t catch Sylvain down in Abyss though, nope nope nope nope.

#♞ ∴∵∴「GIVE VOICE TO THE WORDLESS - OUT OF CHARACTER」 #♞ ∴∵∴「BURDEN OF CHOICE MADE WEIGHTLESS- ASK MEME」 #fr at some point I'mma hit you up with that thought bubble ghdfjk #irroche

[aubins]

❰❰ LEAN ❱❱ sender leans against receiver :0)

❰❰ LEAN ❱❱ sender leans against receiver. // an extremely self-indulgent meme.

Constance is missing, they say. We can't find her, they say. As he makes his way to her laboratory, he knows the drill by now. All the Abyssians know perfectly well where they might find her if they are truly looking. The simple fact is that most already have enough experience with threats on their life to last more than one lifetime; there is no reason that they should willingly put themselves into the path of one of her experiments and risk it again.

It is left to one of the Ashen Wolves, then, and it is Yuri that goes looking this time. He pauses before the door, listening carefully for any indication that she is up to anything unsafe within, but finds nothing. A hand comes down on wood, once, twice, thrice.

No answer.

At last, he simply pushes the door open and it gives way, unlocked, revealing Constance slumped over at her desk. Snorting, he crosses the room to join her. "Should I say I told you so?" Yuri drawls, even as he offers her an arm to help her stand. There's no sense of day and night in Abyss, the torches and lanterns always burning for light, but it must be late by now. Where trouble often finds him and he finds trouble, Constance seems to have a special talent to create trouble all on her own. Finding her collapsed from exhaustion is not a good look at all, no matter what way he tries to paint it.

Together, Constance leaning against him as he fumbles with the door, they stumble from her makeshift lab into the hall, slowly inching their way to the dormitories. “I am perfectly capable of watching my limits,” he mocks with a falsetto, but his gaze darts toward her face to check on her. He frowns, an elbow digging into her side to nudge her awake. “Hey. Come on, Shady Lady, don't fall asleep on me yet. You can last a little longer.” Would Balthus still be awake at this hour? Surely Yuri would be able to find him gambling his meager earnings away somewhere, or rouse him from his sleep if he is not. Balthus would get a hearty chuckle out of it and Yuri wouldn't have to drag Constance all the way back to her room. Everyone would win.

Well, leaving her asleep on the ground while he went looking for the other man would hardly be a victory for her, he supposes, so he settles for nudging her periodically instead, her name hissed through through his teeth once or twice when she drifts off.

“Get some sleep,” he urges, ushering her through the door and to her bed, finally pulling away from her grip. There is no annoyance in his voice, only genuine concern and steely insistence as he turns to go. “I mean it this time, Constance. You're of no help if you're seconds away from passing out.”

As he shuts the door behind him, he wonders. Maybe if he brews her a cup of tea in the morning, she won't be too incensed about him half - dragging her to bed.

#irroche #❛ 𝐈𝐍𝐁𝐎𝐗. i worry that love is violence #i don't know how this got so long mfkljsdlfksdf #but uh. oops?

[tobenobility]

۞ admittedly sending this because i'm just curious :0)

i-- i think that’s why everyone sends these lilly

Pros:

-I think that they would probably both enjoy the parts of their relationship built on ambition, at least when Constance isn’t in her more subdued state. There’s a sort of friendly rapport of simultaneous competition and cooperation that I feel like their supports build up towards the end, and that could honestly be a pretty fun dynamic, especially considering that both people (at least at their best) have a focus on improving themselves. I think Ferdinand especially would really enjoy this sort of thing!

-Ferdinand probably provides one of the best ways for Constance to get back on her feet out of anybody in the game -- from a pragmatic perspective, the resources that she gains access to through House Aegir are very abundant, and if anything and anyone can help her achieve her dream of recreating House Nuvelle, it’s this and Ferdinand himself. Plus he would probably be pretty unwavering in doing his best to support her personally, as Ferdinand is rather wont to do, and that would probably be pretty nice.

-Yet another Ferdinand power couple -- when these two are at their most sharpened levels and given reason to push something, that thing is sure as shit getting a pushing. From their endings, we can see that they actually turn very constructive when they do so as well, either helping create the new social order in Crimson Flower or making serious magical progress in Ashen Wolves. I suspect that this is one of the most constructive turns that Constance can end up taking.

Cons:

-Oh dear God is Constance capable of ripping into Ferdinand... in their C support it is really just brutal. With how unstable Constance is, I think it’s probably inevitable that she would hit him with this on more than one occasion, and it would probably get pretty ugly when they get into fights... I cringe a bit just imagining the tongue-lashings Constance might deal, especially because I don’t think Ferdinand would be inclined to defend himself much.

-She’s honestly kind of inconsiderate sometimes... as we see, in their A support, Ferdinand is pouring his heart out to her after having experienced a lot of hardships of his own, and she does laugh at him for it. Now, this isn’t to say that she isn’t a lot more thoughtful in her more subdued form, but I think that this is probably also a sort of scenario that would pop up a lot between them... I think it would have to be fixed, too. I think Ferdinand would feel really seriously hurt by that being a consistent thing.

-Ferdinand, as we see in supports like the ones that he has with Bernadetta, is actually very much capable of adjusting to people and changing his approach... but the thing is that he’s pretty darned slow at it. He has to run face-first into a wall, back off, take a while to reconsider how he’s doing things, and then do it again. With the way Constance works, she changes the way that she needs to be approached very quickly, and I’m not really sure that Ferdinand could keep up.

Verdict:

Ehhh... leaning negative on this one, I think, if not necessarily too strongly. They do have pros that ended up more compelling than I expected as I wrote them, and their ending shows that in a lot of respects things go very well indeed for them if they do get together, but I think there are some cons that would lead to some pretty difficult daily troubles to deal with... Ferdinand just isn’t quick enough on his feet to deal with a lot of aspects of Constance’s instabilities well.

#irroche #ask #theofficersacademy

[macawbre]

left foot trance {

A traveling cultural show has brought a troupe of dancers to the monastery. Specializing in a powerful yet elegant style, this dance combines elements of both art and gauntlet combat technique, and is said to have originated from the soldiers of House Bergliez. it’s a rare sight to see art and war so seamlessly intertwined; on the other hand, maybe it’s the strikingly handsome instructor who’s drawing the crowds, who seems to have a few secrets of his own… [Grants Gauntlet +1] // @irroche

It’s in fire that passion strikes so earnestly and in embers that power becomes resolute. The traveling troupe of dancers had built a bonfire in the square to set up a gathering site for the rest of the cultural show. The enthusiasm poured into all the bells and foreign foods, gilded decorations and trinkets—the whole troupe clinked and jingled from the ankles up. Much like living chimes, that danced and sung to a rhythm that they could claim for themselves. Henry observed them in awe, wondering exactly what it was like to belong in a moment like that— to possess its very motions and attest that each second was truly and wholly theirs.

They danced, of course, as they fought, taking to gauntlets that glimmered against flame. Each one of the dancers fancied several belts, lined with rounded gold trinkets that flickered just the same. Many wore sheer face cloths to cover half their faces—though their smiles shone through quite clearly. Others were wrapped in sheer, glittering shawls, to emulate the very flow of air they walked on. In the center, of course, was the dashing instructor, who clapped along to the music twirled and twisted in strokes of haunting strings. 

“You two there! I am Hendrick Gliez, traveling instructor. I’ve noticed that you’re quite taken with our divine fury! Care to have a dance with the master?” (Gliez: 25 HP)

“Ha! Sure! Don’t know if this student of mine would care to join me though!” Henry started a rapport without a second thought. Whirling his hand in a circle, he gestured towards the girl with delightful curls, and a violet ribbon to match. “How’s about it? We might learn a thing or two from giving tango a go!”​

#irroche #left foot trance #{ we don't need to fight him yet but the 25HP is so dauntingly funny i had to put it in