It isn't easy to get Father's undivided attention; Clive understands there simply aren't enough hours in the day to attend to everything. So when the opportunity does present itself, he makes sure to take advantage of it. And while he doesn't want to burden his father any more than he already his by his own duties, there's no one else he could possibly turn to about this. No one knows Mother better than him and truth be told, Clive couldn't stomach speaking to another about these worries -- the shame of it would only intensify tenfold.

"Father, can I borrow you for a moment?" Clive asks, approaching him before his desk. "I understand if you have pressing matters to attend to, but I..." he stops, searching for his words, "Something weighs heavily on my mind, and I wish to know your thoughts on it."

@phoenix-flamed

❂⭃ Starter for @phoenix-flamed ⥷❂

⤛⌠❂⌡⤜

"How kind of His Most Honorable Archduke to grace us peasants with his presence!"

The comment would have sounded harsh and sarcastic from any other person, but from Byron and shared with his beloved brother it took a completely unique tone. Byron knew better than anyone the important and arduous work that Elwin did, and he did not keep grudge nor grievance against Elwin for his absences. Not to mention the fact that Byron himself was not always present in Rosilith proper. He more often was looking over his ward in Port Isolde, tending to his business and his coffers. In spite of all of this, there was no love lost between them, and when Byron came to visit to learn that his brother had just made it home as well, he was eager to greet the returning noble and bring mirth into what must have surely been a stressful and burdensome trip.

Thus it was that as he came in close Byron clapped a strong arm over his brother's back and pulled him in to a hearty sort of half-hug, "A very merry welcome home for my esteemed older brother! I bet you are quite a bit surprised to see me here, no? I had intended on following up on some investments before I came, but I was missing my family. And how were your endeavors? Everything turned... favorable, I hope?"

Just the lightest drop in his tone, as if to silently denote that he understood the gravity of the situation. And to offer a shoulder should things be too grim for his usual light and boisterous mood. Elwin, strong and courageous as he was, was also just as vulnerable to the horrors of war and battle as anyone else, and he whatever he might need after the return of keeping the peace of his duchy may or may not be his loud celebration.

🌸 to offer my muse a flower. -- From Miles, of course!

'your affection' prompts . accepting

The courtesan closed the doors to her home with a heavy sigh - as much as Melissa had been used to carrying that name and identity everywhere, it was still a burden to bear. To exploit the tragic destiny of her own country for survival was not something she was proud of - but nor did the woman carry any guilt for simply doing what she had to endure.

And now that she was the rightful owner - as the imperial law dictated - of Miles, things had become even more muddled in her heart. It had been easier when he had been just another soul with a horrifying past and enslaved against his will, as many other bearers. But knowing that he was the man who she once owed loyalty and respect to?

It was difficult to reconcile her lifestyle and the true spirit of a Rosarian; even if Elwin had told his mistress directly that he held her accountable for nothing after the fall of the grand duchy, Melissa found it something hard to swallow. The courtesan - she was unworthy of his kindness. Lilian had created 'Melissa', mocked her ancestry and heritage to make some gil out of it, and all the material comforts surrounding them felt rotten.

The brunette was not the paragon of kindness her employees saw her to be - it was all to soothe a guilt conscience and nothing more.

It was with such thoughts that Melissa eventually moved from the hall to her room - the pain hiding in honeyed eyes dulled the overall splendor of her attire and jewelry; as if the radiating sun of a warmer land she was supposed to emulate had been dimmed. It was, however, temporary - as soon as Melissa entered her chambers and saw something on her vanity, the woman's entire disposition changed.

A bouquet - something so ordinary and so simple, even frequently earned from clients and admirers. But while most of them were made out of wyvern tails or other typical imperial blooms, that was a different kind: it was made out of roses, and of a very peculiar color at that. They had always reminded the young Lily, as a noblewoman visiting Rosalith on occasion, of the flames of their most important and prized eikon: the Phoenix.

It was as if the petals had been dipped into a beautiful sunset - and Melissa couldn't resist pulling it up, delicately touching the roses and inhaling their fragrance. Sweet, memorable - like home. The courtesan had almost forgotten that smell, and yet a whiff was all it took to transport her to years and years before, when her current identity was not a reality and the Rosarian banner was still hanging from her parents' estate.

A tiny piece of paper was attached to the blooms - the calligraphy was one she had learned to recognize from other documents, but for once it was not from any household administration materials but rather a personal note to her. A simple 'from Miles' was included there, and a blush crept to the woman's cheeks upon realizing she had needed that visual aid to come to the obvious conclusion.

Of course these had been from him - who else missed Rosaria as much as she did, if not even more?

Picking up the flowers, Melissa moved from room to room - looking not only for a suitable vase for them, but also for their sender. Unsurprisingly, the courtesan found the royal-turned-bearer in his chamber, reading something - however Miles paused when her figure hovered at the entrance, noticing the lady of the house immediately. For a moment - neither of them said a word; their eyes did the talking.

It was the woman who broke the spell - as she had done before, by pushing him into walls or discarding all the protocol which had been owed to one of higher station and hierarchy. Melissa walked up to his bed, took a seat by his side and then carefully closed the distance between them - managing the flowers at all times, afraid to crush them due to the anxiety flowing in her veins alongside guilt, desire and affection.

The kiss was placed against the former archduke's cheek - dangerously close to the edge of his lips, but not yet there. Miles perhaps could hear and feel it all: the drumming of her heart, the heat of Melissa's skin and the excitement that made her act so boldly, even if there was still remorse weighing her back, akin to an anchor.

"Thank you for these," the courtesan murmured, pulling apart but barely so; enough only to look at him, "Thank you for soothing some of the pain, Elwin."

Aerith has been fixing him for such a long moment. Miles. He said that it was his name. And there are so many people at the Hideaway; it really is one of the most welcoming place Aerith has seen in her life along with Rosalith. But this Miles guy... it has been years, but he still makes her think of Elwin Rosfield somehow. She didn't see him that many times before, but there's something special in the way he feels. And she also knows the former Archduke has never returned to the heart of Valisthea. She would have known. So he is alive somewhere...

"I'm a bit curious!" she admits, letting a brief chuckle escape her mouth. "You know, I grew up in Rosalith, and then I moved to Sanbreque since I was adopted... I'd love to travel even more, I'm so curious about this world!" She claps her hands together. "But you, Miles. Where are you from ?"

@phoenix-flamed ❤'d !

ㅤㅤ"ㅤbecause you want to die for love , you always have .ㅤ"ㅤ- @phoenix-flamed

(I hope this is okay to send in! ;w; )

The Cursebreaker had worried over this for far longer than he'd meant to. He knew very well that it wasn't his place to step forward, and more than that -- to ask forgiveness from Jill or Clive for his failures. Especially Jill, for if he had never taken her from her home in the north, would she have suffered a fraction of what she had endured after The Night of Flames?

He could only pray to Metia that the pair would find peace now, the peace they had deserved every day since their first meeting back in their youth. The peace that they had fought so hard 'til now to gain.

But in the end, Elwin had persuaded himself into approaching: a word of congratulations wouldn't be the worst thing to offer them, now would it? By now, the gushing praise and excitement for Jill had surely become common from others, considering most -- if not all -- of Hideaway knew about her and Clive. This, he reasoned, made the gesture perfectly harmless. Yet "Miles" still continued to hesitate. Each time his gloved hand would raise to offer a gentle knock to the door in front of him, it would, without fail, stop just short of making contact.

The natural furrow of his brow only deepened as the moments pressed on. One failed attempt after another seemed destined to continue 'til the last, and it wasn't until the fallen royal was about to turn to leave that he finally, finally managed to muster the courage to knock -- albeit quietly. From there, it became a matter of waiting, and carefully steadying the breaths that threatened to hitch in his throat.

she'd practically been singing these last few days. Clive had awoken from his coma, they had been officially wed. she would now be able to introduce herself as Jill Rosfield ⸻ a thought that always brought butterflies to her stomach. a smile to lips. if she weren't standing, surely it would have caused her feet to kick. now they were going to travel, just as he promised. as newlyweds. so she packs. humming the whole time. Clive had left to take care of little things to ensure the Hideaway would not fall apart without its two leaders. the torch would be passed to either Otto & Gav. should they return, it would be for their final goodbye.

Valestheia was no longer at risk of the end, but it did not mean that it was not falling apart. the loss of the mother crystals largely affected the law of the land, yet that cannot be said for what lays beyond the twins. while they felt slight guilt to depart at such a time, they had done enough. far too many times had their lives been on hold. it was time to go. interruptions or requests still came in from time to time, yet they were passed on to The Hideaway's new leadership; Clive himself would handle the smaller ones. sometimes there would be a knock, but they became less frequent as the time of their departure approached. So when a knock stops her song, she tilts her head with curiosity, but does not hesitate to answer the door with a smile. 

her smile falls, then. not out of upset, but of confusion. who stood before her was an older man, one that hadn't been seen around The Hideaway before. ( not that it was anything new for others to join at any point in time. ) there was something about him that felt familiar, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. she was far too distracted in her mind. too many things raced within it. but she studied him ⸻ he seemed insecure in his current stance. he had scars, one of a bearer with mark removed. their eyes did not meet.

❛ I'm not sure we've met before. could it be that you are looking for Clive? ❜

a pause.

❛ ...Are you unwell? ❜

yet there was this uneasy feeling that she had hoped would go away as soon as he spoke. maybe then she would understand where that feeling of familiarity came from.

masquerade ball starter for @phoenix-flamed

"Father!" He exclaims, spotting the Archduke in the mirror's reflection, standing in the doorway to Clive's chambers.

Clive turns with his fingers still tangled in the intricate lacing of his doublet, having struggled with his attire for the past hour or so, not wanting to bother any of the servants when he knows his mother has all of them run errands upon errands for the festivities.

"I am late, aren't I?" His gaze flickers downward, not quite able to meet his father's eyes in light of his tardiness. It must be bad if the Archduke himself found the need to seek him out. Clive thought he set aside ample time to get dressed, but somewhere along the way it must still have gotten away from him.

It admittedly doesn't help that he doesn't want to go to the ball in the first place.

@phoenix-flamed sent : ❝ leaders need to make tough decisions. we do what we must. ❞ Baldur's Gate 3 Starters (pt 1) || Accepting!

It was advice he had heard time and time again, sometimes even out of his own mouth, but that didn't make them any less bitter at this moment. The sound of leather creaking under pressure echoed forth, Clive's fists curling tight as he pressed them to the table, those blue eyes scanning over the reports he had been pouring over for the last few hours. And for good reason! Those reports spelled death for a few of his cursebreakers, at least if the ultimate goal of the mission was to be achieved. Was Clive willing to accept a mission failure for the lives that were under him? It was a difficult choice, one that he didn't want to make. Success would give them a stepping stone in the area, but those were good men who would be left to the slaughter.

His brow furrowed with frustration, especially as his Father could see the issue set before him. It was advice that would have been given many times over his life had it gone according to plan, it was a comfort to hear it now, even if it rankled him at the same time. There was a growing need to ask his father what he would do, but Clive kept his mouth shut, ignoring that thought. This was his decision, his success or failure. He had to pick for himself. "Damnit." One of those hands was brought to his nose, pinching the bridge and rubbing as if that would soothe his mind. However, it was as he did this that an idea came to him. He couldn't ask his father what the answer to this was, but he could ask if there was something similar that he could compare to! "Have you ever been in this kind of spot? Success but your men die, failure and they live?" He asked quietly, his head lifting to look to the man across the table from him.

Continued from [x] with @phoenix-flamed

Upon hearing his name, she breathed sharply; sharper than she had intended. Although her demeanor remained calm and composed, Nunnally was furious inside. And a different kind of anxiety was building inside her. The princess was well aware she was safe with that man, but she was irritated. Irritated by the situation. Irritated at him. Irritated at herself. Perhaps even angry at herself. She should have known better and guessed better. The stranger was riding  a chocobo and that alone should be a clear information that he was from Rosaria. And the visitors from over there were expected; even if in a few days. But even though that very thought might have passed through her mind, she would have never expected to encounter the young Marquess, the heir to Rasaria’s throne, Elwin Rosfield. He should be travelling with some escort, shouldn’t he? Nunnally was aware her ire wasn't justified. The princess had brought this uncomfortable situation onto herself. She shouldn't have been riding alone (well, escaping her escort to be exact), especially when such noble guests were expected.

But, nevertheless, he should have lied. Right!? It was obvious she was no ordinary person, and it should have come his mind ladies like herself shouldn’t ride alone. Or perhaps they could in Rosaria? That unexpected thought brought some curiosity into her blues eyes, but Nunnally was torn inside. Should she tell the truth of who she was? Or should she lie? How much did that man know? About her and the planned union? Wouldn’t pretending put them in a more awkward situation when they were to officially get introduced? And why was he so nervous…? He seemed nervous. As if this situation was odd to him.

Her silence was already getting too long and she needed to make a decision.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, My Lord.” – Nunnally said sending Elwin a soft smile; it would have been much more sincere, but she was anxious, and worried, and uncertain of the consequences of this unexpected meeting. Another pause. She welcomed his bow with a polite move of her head. She was still sitting on her mare as she didn’t feel comfortable just jumping down of her in that riding skirt of hers. But Nunnally couldn't avoid her decision any longer: --

“I am Nunnally Mathilde Lesage“ – she said wondering if Elwin would know exactly who she was or only knew she was a member of the royal family of Sanbreque – “And this lovely girl here is Mist.” – as requested she introduced her mare. Should she pretend she didn’t know who he was? Or admit she knew. That probably didn’t matter. They were both children of the ruling families, who perhaps shouldn't be here alone. So, she’d leave that decision to him to see how he would like to take this encounter forward. But she wouldn’t be herself if she hadn’t added a small challenge – “But as beautiful as she is, she is also difficult to control.” – she was clearly talking about her horse, but her words could also be applied to her, she assumed. Her mare and she were similar – “She has bolted me.” – she added with a smile; a lie, but he wouldn’t know that. Nunnally reached her hands towards the young Marquess – “If I may request your assistance to dismount, we’d be…” – she hesitated – “…more comfortable. If you will, perhaps you could also escort me back to the palace, Lord Elwin. And introduce me to your lovely chocobo. You don’t see them here that often.”

Miles said: "i can't lose you again."

"What?" Clive thought himself unstoppable, determined to go down this path, no matter what. He was driven, the only thing that had kept him alive for so long had been that innate drive and yet, here he was... stopping on his tracks the moment the man addresses him in such a way.

Why? Why would he say that and why was it that Clive's heart sunk the moment he heard such words?

Timidly, he turns to Miles, confusion and sadness written across his face. A glint of a familiarity he is... not familiar with sending shivers down his spine. He doesn't know the meaning, but he's looking at Miles for answers, hoping he gives him something, unconsciously hoping he guides him once again.

"What do you mean by that? I--..." No, even speaking makes him shake... There's something his body knows that he does not and it terrifies him.

♞ @phoenix-flamed ♞

§ ! Only if you'd be okay with it, of course

If you want to ship!

❖

☆ I am all up to doing it with you!! I can already imagine what their dynamic can be like, even if it takes time to build how to realizing they have feelings for each other and finally confessing. More because of their occupation or how they are aware of their own position. Their positions play a part into why they haven't confessed right off the bat. So, it's a complicated thing.

Of course, this is what I think. Feel free to leave your input about it as well!!

I'm going to kill two birds with one stone, so let me start out by saying that I adore both your Mid and your Joshua!

Despite everything they have both been through, and despite being from very different backgrounds, upbringings, and overall walks of life -- they both share the common thread of remaining kind and caring. That isn't to say they don't have their struggles with it! They stumble, they feel, they doubt. But in the end, they always manage to get back up and keep moving forward.

I love that about them, and so does my muse. (Miles in particular is inspired by both of them in their own ways, and I definitely need to invade your Inboxes more often with him!)

Thank you so much for saying me this! That's something I really like to write, characters who do their best to remain kind even through the many hardships they face, so I'm glad you think it's an important part of my portrayals 🥰

Also: you are always more than welcome to invade my inboxes as much as you want haha! Like I told you, I absolutely love the interactions we've had on both blogs :3

What is something about my portrayal[s] that sticks out? | @phoenix-flamed

💪 Because why not.

Oh my. Now this was not expected.

The good King himself coming to rescue him? Oh to be so honored indeed~

Blushing a gentle red would he coil his palm up the good Duke's ruby red tunic, while the other snaked up his shoulder as he was firmly scooped in the strapping studs secure hoist. He stared up at the brunette in breathless silence. Breath hitching as he felt the mans sturdy grip around the curves of his slender frame.

Hmm...oh no. He liked this~

"I-...Your Grace." Sleipnir whispered softly. "Tis but a flesh wound...y-you needn't do all this for me, I assure you."

But he wasn't gonna tell him to stop~

" Come now, brother. You did not honestly believe you could sneak that past me, hmn? " Byron's grin widens, his brows waggling. / @phoenix-flamed

A sidelong look was given to the bearer that stood before him, eyeing him and several others up like they were horses for auction which for lack of a better term they were. It had always bothered him, how most of the population of this little continent were blessed with the powers of the Greats and yet they were seen as less than. Seen as trash to be abused and sold. A grimace appeared upon his face as he listened to their owner speak on them, telling those that were around their capabilities and how hard they had been pushed. The Dominate wrinkled his nose a bit before going to lift his hand gesturing to the lot of them. "They're mine.... all of them." It was the only kindness he could offer them while on this foreign soil. He didn't bother with listening to the complaints of the others, moving to pull out enough to cover them and more from his coin pouch and tossing it at the Slaver's feet. It didn't take much more than that to have them, sadly to say, and as they were escorted towards his Villa, Drogo found himself matching stride with one. A tickle of familiarity, a vision of boy hood meetings.... ".... Elwin?"

@phoenix-flamed requested a meeting with the Khal.

@phoenix-flamed said: For the current Dominant of Phoenix, the gift that he would bestow upon his younger son was not necessarily the most useful. But it was something significant to Elwin -- and perhaps it could be significant to Joshua as well. Attached to the scabbard of his sword were a set of the Phoenix's feathers, gifted to him by his own father -- the previous Dominant of the Fire Eikon -- what seemed so long ago now. With great care did he remove one of them. Approaching the other with the object resting across his open palms, he takes equally as much care in offering it to Joshua. "From one Phoenix to another," he softly explains, his expression and smile exuding as much warmth as the feather itself. "May your grandfather watch over you, as he has always done me." GIVE MY MUSE AN OBJECT AND SEE HOW THEY REACT | ACCEPTING

Joshua doesn't want to be the Dominant of the Phoenix; he just wants to be a normal boy, without all this pressure on his shoulders all the time. He wishes he could only keep playing with Clive and Jill and not having to constantly worry about his upcoming duties.

However, Elwin manages to bring a curious smile on his lips. A lucky charm that once belonged to his grandfather. He's not sure he's worthy of this lucky charm yet. He doesn't know if he will ever be ready.

"Thank you, Father..." And without hesitation, he wraps his arms around Elwin, holding him close. "I hope... I hope I can make him proud." He's not sure of how he could, but he needs to keep trying.