#thelightofcreation
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Life Returns
With many of your allies injured in the last mission, the infirmary is completely full. Those who managed to escape without much injury, or those who remained at the monastery this past month can try to alleviate some of the nurses’ work by tending to their friends and loved ones. Or maybe, when no one is watching, you take your chance to rub salt in an old enemy’s wounds.
Was it luck or fate that she’d arrived at this academy at such a turbulent time? An entire cohort of students, professors and knights, returning after a year away. In a flash, the infirmary was packed, and in need of volunteers. Yune could never avoid chaos.
Her work mostly consisted of running errands, collecting supplies when they were needed. The nurses always thanked her for doing such a good job. Even if they were only doing it out of belief she was merely a child, praise was… nice.
Today she was helping those with less severe injuries. Though in this case, ‘less severe’ only meant those that hadn’t reported their own deaths (this was a strange place).
Was it luck or fate that she’d arrived at the infirmary the same time he had? She hadn’t seen him since her other half’s defeat. But he had fought on her side, as he had done all those years ago… and she hadn’t had the chance to thank him.
“I’m glad to see you again.” She spoke softly. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, but now was not the time. Not with so many people present. “You returned from the mission in one piece, I see.” Her (their) blessing had protected him in the Tower of Guidance, but she did not know if the weapons of this world were capable of killing him. She hoped she would never find out.
“I hope you have not suffered too much.” She continued. “I have only heard whispers of what you went through, I will do what I can to ease your pains.”
@thelightofcreation
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apple strudel - who was your muse's first crush? do they still have feelings for that person?
maria's very first crush was marth! though she moved on from her puppy crush on him largely before ever coming to garreg mach, hahaha
since she was imprisoned in castle deil at a very young age, and when she was even younger than that her whole world revolved around her brother and sister, i don't think she ever had a crush before she was freed! but after that? a brave and charming prince and his army show up one day to free the princess from the tower? it sounds like something straight out of a fairytale!
he's the first new important figure in her life in a long time, but he's also easy to get along with and very clearly a kind person -- plus he's cute! maria in game makes mention of thinking he's dashing and wanting to see him again. he's the one who saved her and he's someone that her sister trusted to do so -- he's such an overwhelmingly shiny existence to a girl with stars in her eyes, and that part at least never really ends; it just changes
her old crush is something she looks back on fondly! nowadays he's like a big brother to her that she still admires very much -- one who she can trust with all her grand adventures and little worries, and who she looks to for advice
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falesia: the disquieting awareness that someone's importance to you and your importance to them may not necessarily match
falesia: the disquieting awareness that someone's importance to you and your importance to them may not necessarily match ╱ also sent by @twistedisciple & @resalire
Nel's smile. Nel's laugh.
Nel said—
Nel did—
Nel. Nel. Nel.
He tired of that name, the sound of it, the frequency of it, the immense power it wielded over Nil and ergo Rafal. Today's Nel could not be that different from yesterday's Nel, he snapped at him, do you always have to speak of your sister? But the truth was that no topic he offered in her place could have replaced the immaterial spark she inspired, that thread of animation which connected eyes to lips to heart and brimmed in his brother as life.
"I'm sorry, Rafal. Did I anger you? I'll stop if you tell me." Nil's attention landed upon him with helpful innocence, eager to remedy the issue, but unknowing of the solution, the crux, the problem itself - when he were not speaking of his talented twin already he appeared dimmer. He could not help that. And Rafal could not abate his foreboding.
More aching than jealousy was apology, the other's inability to laugh and look and speak of him in just the same way. It hadn't been 'sorry' that he wanted, it had been equivalence, it had been reassurance; in contests of choice, you would be the one I choose, but Nil would not ever, and he felt this void keenly. Push further and perhaps he would see a ripple in the fabric of their bond. Nil would spook at this strange brother's possessive desire. At worst Rafal would not be able to keep him.
"It's nothing," he amended. "I haven't been sleeping well as of late, is all."
What excuses Nil accepted Rafal did too. He acknowledged the scraps of his allowance. The unfortunate fortune he was given, the emptied honeycomb and dormant wax where another creature had reached first. And it was futile, he knew. He could not compete with a stronger child of Sombron, stronger not merely for her strength but also for her invisibility. Because whatever this undying notion was, the one known as Nel could be named the source; the love in Nil's voice for a name and a face out of sight but never out of mind.
Someone else resided where he wished to be, possessed all that he wished to have, and he arranged himself where sparsity remained. For Nil was his whole.
Even if Rafal was not even his half.
#◜ ₊ — 𝓡 ˚ ₊ 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ╱ drabble.#thelightofcreation#twistedisciple#resalire#thanks all for sending !! and also thank you to ren for bringing these awesome prompts onto the dash#falesia is such a perfect emotional term for rafal#and even in spite of it he goes to countless lengths to honor nil which says .... so much#rafal being a selfish (i.e. possessive) lover with capacity for selfless love that survives hundreds of years hahahaha
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hc silence
// there's normal silences. it's fine with those. lulls in conversation, lying awake in bed alone in its room — it can still hear and feel people around in the ambient noise, so that's fine. they're very attuned to the rustling of fabric or quiet footsteps, so even the slightest signs of activity will keep their attention.
// complete silence though: though they don't know how to articulate or comprehend it themself, it's the one thing they truly and clearly dislike. silence, complete and total silence is indicative of a void, an emptiness: nothing to serve, nothing to follow, nothing to mimic and nothing to learn — that void, that nothingness completely invalidating their very reason for existence. staying in silence for too long, unable to find anyone else to learn from, to guide them? it makes them grind to a total halt.
// anyone from the outside looking in would classify it as an all-consuming, debilitating despair. honestly, i'm inclined to say the same. denning naturally isn't, but. im in his head so suck it lol
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[ Goddess Tower ] - Who says you have to wait until the end of the night to see whether or not the myths are true? Love (and/or rejection) waits for no one!
He didn’t climb to the top of the tower last year, out of courtesy for the myths that surrounded it. He does so now, at least to enjoy the view before the inevitable couples will climb to its top to speak their sweet words of confession. He would not lie and say he was not hoping for solitude.
Sephiran looks over the monastery, the place he lived in for almost a year, that he abandoned when he flew too close to the sun, craved too much connection. Wrought too much destruction yet again. He hears another set of footsteps approach him- alone, not here for a confession unless they were far too early.
But he recognizes the scent of dragons. Dragons of Tellius, not any of the other dragons he had met nor heard of in his time in Fodlan. He does not need to glance behind to guess at who it was.
“How ironic that we meet atop a tower again, Nasir. Have you something to say to me, or have you come to enjoy the view as well?”
The last person that Nasir would have expected to see all the way up here - how sacrilegious of their dear Sephiran, to climb the stairs of a tower dedicated to a different goddess - was Begnion's former prime minister.
They scoff, letting their hand fall from where it had been clutching the fabric of their skirts to prevent them from tripping over the hem as they climbed, "I didn't expect to see you up here, Lehran. I... I simply wanted some peace and quiet. You know how beorc youth are, sometimes they get far too rowdy for an old man like myself."
They observe the heron carefully, deep blue eyes boring into his soul. There was a far more selfish reason they had come up here as well, but to say it to Sephiran of all people...
The monastery sprawls out below, grand buildings made minuscule by the heights they now reached. It almost made one want to reminisce on the past, of what had once been before being swept away by the sands of time. The rumors surrounding this tower, of love and confessions, Nasir cannot help but to think of love they had once had. To think of a woman who was long gone but had shone brighter than anyone else they had ever known.
"I will spare you from vitriol tonight, Lehran. But allow me to ask a question: do you wish for someone you once loved to be standing here now? I'm sure you can understand, the longing for someone who will never breathe again. Can't you?"
#ic: do not be afraid of what lies beyond. forge ahead#inbox: i will do what i am able#supports: the gap between the laguz and beorc has been bridged#support: sephiran#events: it's a chill wind that blows in these waters#event: ball 2024#toaball2024#thelightofcreation#//toxic old man yaoi for the dash uwu#rd spoilers#//average sephiran/nasir moment: having to tag rd spoilers#thread: tellius spoilers
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[ 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 ] : sender is expressing anger over receiver's constant recklessness.
for you i would (still accepting)
It is only natural for her to act like this—to put her all into battle; to focus solely on the mission; to expend herself in order to secure victory.
There had been a close call this time. (In actuality, there had been many close calls, piling up with every outing, every skirmish, every full-blown fight.) Selena had drawn too close to an enemy soldier, and now she had dressed wounds for it. It didn’t affect her breathing; neither did it hinder her pulse.
All the same, Sephiran finds fault. (This time, it was minor, but what of next time? What if there is no ‘next time’ after that?) Selena listens, and she ponders, but it is hard for her to change heart.
To hesitate is to condemn to death.
“Of course,” she lies. “I’ll be more careful next time. Don’t worry about me.”
#[ asks ]: ‘ i shall do my best. ’#[ support ]: sephiran#thelightofcreation#injury mention#[ i am normal about team 8!!!! :] ]#[ this is absolutely one of those choice scenarios where selena would lie to someone's face sorry sephiran ]#[ it is easier to her than arguing about knighthood :crunchy: ]
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(o・・o)/
python's opinion hour
...Isn't that the guy who fell down the stairs?
#[ ooc ]#[ ask ]#thelightofcreation#// SORRY ITS SO SHORT IT WAS TOO FUNNY THIS WAY#// some other first impressions: heard he was a duke or something. bracing for a holier-than-thou attitude on this knowledge alone#// nice hair tho
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Mulled Wine and Hot Cocoa - They say there’s nothing like sharing a warm drink by the fire to shake off any holiday ennui you might have. So grab a mug and a buddy, and toast to the quiet moments.
There she was- the young lady from the Ethereal Ball some moons ago. On that stage, ethereal, as was its name, she was not out of place, but here she seemed more at home. Familiar with the hosts, from her place on the table- but he digresses.
“Greetings, Princess Nanna.” Just as she had before, he offers her a drink, this one unfamiliar with him but warm nonetheless. “Have you been well?”
"Oh," She met his question with another question, elation dancing in-step with her bright-eyed excitement. "Have you been well, Sephiran?"
"I feel..." At home? Could she really say that, when she wasn't quite accustomed to the same gusto that the previous generation had for the holiday. Hers were humble, less tinsel and silvery charms. But still, the waft of chestnuts and cocoa were mutual, all the same. "Fortunate to be able to witness this myself." Another two steps, words skipping, left over right. She broke out into a faint, almost inaudible laugh. "It feels like a dream. Like the saints themselves have come down to hand chestnuts to children."
"...Haha... It's quite difficult to explain."
Her fingers slid around the mug, curling into place delicately. Bowing her head, a silent thank you in the face of the booming laughter and cheer, she stood comfortably by his side. The sweetness rolled off her tongue, drawing a trail of warmth down her chest.
"I've come to suspect that you may be a dream, yourself, sir." There's laughter in her eyes. "You're always welcome, if that means I can pry from time to time."
#okay but this is months late but I suppose the bit is that they're slowly feeding into their friendship with cocktails and dream sequences#cocoa in this case LOL#thelightofcreation
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16. A memory that makes them angry
She's lost track of the date by now— She can't quite remember when she stopped using her fingernails to create faint tallies on the floor. The sun does not shine in a place filled with only darkness. Her legs are wrapped tightly nearest her chest, huddled in the corner of the cold space. The only glimmers of hope have faded to time, leaving her in silence. "Stay strong, El," the oldest had said. "You need to survive," echoed another. Each tear she sheds is for their decayed smiles, never herself. Now, with only Edelgard left, she wonders what they will do. She's not a fool, though. She knows they've accomplished what they sought out to achieve.
When the door rattles, she expects a command— A soulless individual telling her where to go and what to do. Today, the masked face walks closer towards her silently. Lilacs peer upwards, burying herself in the room's edge. As they kneel down, they remove the chains from her legs and hands. Her head tilts. "Am I..—?"
"Stand up," they say. When she elevates, she is beckoned out of the tight space and into an open corridor. There are many of them, now— The masked faces staring at her with an intensity she can read even without seeing their expressions. She cares not to make idle chatter, for they have stolen away lives of which weren't theirs to meddle with. They can hide behind a mask all they want, but she will remember them.
Amongst the tiny crowd, the one un-masked face stands out the most. His stark white hair and sinister smirk situate akin to an expression her Uncle wore not too long ago. He takes a step closer towards the now Hresvelg heir (a critical title, they have emphasized), placing a hand on her shoulder. "You are our greatest creation, Edelgard." He says those words with such pride, twiddling the empire under his thumbs. "Keeping you here any longer would be a disservice to our efforts, hm?" He laughs. "Now, go."
They nudge her towards the never-ending staircase, pushing her upwards. She peers back for the briefest of moments, but she does not dare question it. She resents the fact that she is walking back alone, without the kindness and smiles of her siblings she had once felt. Is this how life will always be from now on? Perhaps so. When she takes the first step, it does not feel as freeing as she had once hoped. Each second feels heavier, burdened by knowledge she wouldn't wish on anyone. Step.. step.. step. Is this right? Is this okay? Why is it her?
She reaches the final door, then. Her hand shakes. She does not feel fear, but rather, anger. Regret. Dismay. Slowly does she push it openly with a loud creak, the palace's lights trickling down on her as if she had been a star lost to the ages. When she enters inwards, the door slams behind her. She glances at it, shoulders tensed. There is nothing she can do now. The past is cruel and deceiving, but she can act on the future.
She can't stare at it forever. She fumbles, nearly falling onto the ground. The chandelier sways slightly despite the silence in the halls. It's never felt so foreign to her.
#( asks )#thelightofcreation#// thank u!! edelgard's past both angers & saddens her#// definitely a strong drive too
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28. A memory that strains a relationship
Also asked by @thelightofcreation
The first time she dreams of the blue haired knight is on her wedding night. He smiles at her, reaches for her from atop his snow white horse. He knows her name but she does not know his. His eyes are kind and his smile inviting and she wants to go with him. To take his hand and ride away with him. She reaches, their fingers are about to touch, but she wakes with a jolt.
Tears stream from her eyes and her whole body shakes as she sobs. It had been such a pleasant dream so why does she now feel so sad, so empty, so lost? The man beside her stirs and quickly sits up when he realizes his new bride is in distress. He pulls her close, strokes her hair, and murmurs soothing promises of protection.
She tells him about her dream. About the knight and his white steed. She spares no details for perhaps her beloved might be able to help her understand. She's never met anyone quite so brilliant. If anyone might be able to find a meaning in it, surely it will be him. Besides, he is her lord husband and she sees no reason to keep anything hidden from him.
Something changes in his eyes as she describes the appearance of the dream knight. Soft concern for a sleepy wife disappears and is replaced with a swirling, fiery maelstrom that she cannot quite place. The arms around her tense and her own expression grows worried. When she asks for his feelings, he avoids any explanation. Only hushes her and bids her fall back asleep. It is late and they both need their rest. He lays back down and draws her close to his chest. It is best she forget this and she agrees. He is right, of course, it is just a silly dream.
The same knight continues to find her in her sleep, smiling and reaching. Her sweet, loving, concerned husband continues to ask why she cries in her sleep. She hushes him and tells him it is simply nightmares. His eyes are less frightening when she hides the entirety of the truth.
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matthew vs sephiran| boel
[from ask @thelightofcreation ]
Sephiran had very much been pressured into joining the Battle of the Eagle and Lion - something about how it was an important tradition of the monastery. Perhaps he’d get lucky- or unlucky, he supposed, and lose first thing. He makes out the shape of his opponent in the rain- enough to try and make a shot, perhaps. He was never good at seeing in the dark. “Good day. I hope you won’t hold this against me.” Sephiran’s HP: 5 Sephiran uses Nosferatu! Roll: 11, hit! -1.5 HP (With Magic+)
Matthew, for his part, thrived in the dark.
Absolutely loved it. Took to it like a duck to water.
He loved the din of battle a good pinch less, mind you, although that didn't mean he'd spurn opportunity where it arose. Focused, dagger in hand (ah, it felt so good to be back to form!), the thief skulked amidst the trees, stalking a Blue Lion student. It felt... a bit awkward, hunting down kids, but, eh.
They'd walk it off. Dog eat dog out here in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. Them's just the breaks.
(And besides, none of that mattered when Matthew himself turned out to be the one hunted down.)
He took the attack with a yelp of surprise and shame, bitterness at having been caught off guard. The spell stung and tingled, and, wincing, he turned to the other. "No promises."
But his chipper smile said otherwise: yeah, no worries, no hard feelings mate. He'd simply have to return the favour, was all.
Matthew counters with Dagger. Roll 1d20: 17. Hit! -1.5HP.
[Sephiran’s HP: 3.5/5]
Twice over, at that. He closed the distance, eager to swipe some tome or weapon, but... curse that Fodlan habit of practicing magic sans book.
Matthew uses Steal! @ Nosferatu. Roll 1d20: 20. Success!
Nosferatu has been Stolen.
Sephiran acquires a Training Weapon in lieu.
[Matthew’s HP: 3.5/5]
Hmm. Most curious. As he danced away, he felt, nevertheless... inspired. Matthew, in his younger days, would never have imagined he'd follow in his mother's footsteps where magic was concerned. But ever since arriving to Fodlan, he'd been learning, slowly but surely, that his blood wasn't so completely devoid of the stuff as he'd thought.
And being smacked with that Nosferatu straight in the face? Perhaps he'd gained a better understanding of it just now than any books had ever managed.
Fingers flexing, he dipped behind a nearby tree to plot his next move. No use sitting right out in the open, after all! He was not so generous as that.
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croissant - what is your muse's ideal date?
[ edible enjoyments | Still accepting! | also asked by @princessmacedon & @laslow! ]
[ There's always these lines that I love to fall back on when it comes to Faye's ideal romance or moments with her lover:
Faye: But I dream that after the war is over, you’ll return with me to Ram Village. We’ll have a little garden… We’ll hunt our own food… And we’ll never have to fight another battle for as long as we live! [SoV Alm/Faye A Support]
Of course, this snippet is more about life after fighting and makes less sense in a simple date context, but many of the concepts would remain the same. She'd prefer to stick to things that she is comfortable with, mainly if both her and her partner can connect to them. It should also only be the two of them in focus, anyone else would just get in the way. Nature is a big highlight, as it's usually away from other people and would remind her of home.
Of course, assuming this partner is outside of her very specific line of requirements, she would also want them to be comfortable as well. Just as long as their idea of a good time doesn't greatly differ from her own.
And obviously, keep the date peaceful. She's tired of fighting for love. ]
#thelightofcreation#~ ooc#~ asks#~ headcanons#(Sacred Echoes has a similar A support with a dream scenario I like a lil better but I have to recheck it later)
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hc grief
// grief's left a permanent hollow in them, i think. grieving the life of a child with a proper family, grieving the life of a well-fed orphanage that wants for nothing, grieving the life lucius could have led if not saddled with them, grieving the childhood lugh and raigh lost (and their own, when they stop long enough to acknowledge it). it's never really going to leave them in their lifetime, but they'll manage to build on the things it left behind in time.
// i think it manifests in anger, in zeal. in trying to right what was wronged in the loss, and they've done a good job in carrying on so far. but they linger on it so, so long that when that initial fire fades, you can just. really see the damage it left behind. grief didn't manage to ruin them, but it does, for better or worse, define them, and probably will continue to do so.
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How hypocritical is your muse? If they can be hypocritical, do they realise this about themselves? How do they reconcile with it?
♙ ; how hypocritical is your muse? If they can be hypocritical, do they realize this about themselves? how do they reconcile with it?
( also asked by @unsungblade )
My hot Engage take is that Rafal is simultaneously one of the least and most hypocritical characters in the cast.
For instance, if we defer to one common example of hypocrisy which is moral superiority contrasted with one's immoral behavior or beliefs, Rafal from that perspective will never water down his own values and dilute them with a sense of sanctimony by saying one thing and believing another. Whatever opinion he gives to someone else will be exactly what he means. This applies to all situations that demand for his opinion in some way, shape, or form as well.
He's hardcore, he puts his front foot down, and, ultimately, Rafal happens to be a lot of things - prickly, arrogant, self-centered, critical, jealous, imperfect, stubborn, and intense - but the one thing he'll never be is a hypocrite who dresses up his views to look better than they are. He's honest. . .but only in that light.
Other than that, Rafal is absolutely hypocritical. One hundred thousand percent. We see Rafal's particular brand of hypocrisy most common with characters from his past, situations and relationships where he tends to do a lot of posturing and 'biting' in an effort to dissuade further interaction. Something Gregory describes as Rafal's seeming obligation (it definitely is) and also something that Gregory's support chain showcases pretty well:
Gregory: Well, if it isn’t Lord Rafal. What a coincidence, running into you in this great, wide Somniel.
Rafal: Ugh…
Gregory: Whoa, what’s with the silent treatment? We’ve always been such good allies.
Rafal: Ah, yes, now I recall. You are one of those mewling Four Winds wretches.
Rafal expresses his contempt for Gregory by implicating him to be forgettable - diminishing his identity to someone whose name he doesn't even remember. He treats him like a sore inconvenience, but most importantly: a nobody. Who are you again? Did I mean something to you? That sort of thing. And this encounter isn't reflective at all of how Rafal truly feels about the people he once shared battles and struggles with.
The affectation of his dislike isn't genuine and it isn't constant, either. Rafal's more truthful reality becomes plain to see when it comes to losing what he loved, because at that point there's no more purpose to his facade or walls. It's a hard prerequisite for his honesty but the reason for it is clear: a defensive pretense isn't needed when the other person isn't alive to require it.
Died (Gregory): We should wrap Gregory’s body in something soft, at least. It is what he would want.
Died (Zelestia): Zelestia is gone. I was wondering why it had suddenly become so quiet…
Died (Madeline): Madeline left us much too soon. Let us resolve not to squander any more young lives.
When Gregory dies, Rafal sheds his distance and adopts a more familiar judgment in 'what he would want', revealing that Gregory's interests were always things he took measure of, and that he'd preserved them all along. A blatant contradiction to the who-are-you treatment given to him in their C-support. When Zelestia dies, he enacts a similar sense of his familiarity albeit with her rambunctious personality, something viewed in a positive, room-filling light. Madeline's death instead calls upon his regretful reference to her age, an uncharacteristically tender emphasis at that.
The common ground between all of Rafal's reactions is a fond qualitative observation about his deceased Wind. Sentiment. Emotions and attachments that aren't betrayed on a surface level by his harsh words, particularly the ones pointed at them during his versus dialogue as Fell!Nil. Every expectation of hatred that Rafal gave during that time is negated by what he says and does afterward. Remembering their preferences, mourning their larger-than-life presence, and regretting their fate.
Even his shared support with Mauvier reflects a similar verdict; that what Rafal bespeaks to devalue his previous bonds differs from his actual beliefs.
Rafal: I do not require anything at the moment.
Mauvier: Good. If that changes, I assume you know how to find me.
Rafal: I would extend to you the same offer. I know you have a tendency to overwork yourself.
A far cry from Nil, Rafal is not a good liar. But he is an excellent hypocrite.
Most incriminating is the fact that he remembers things. If Rafal truly hated someone he wouldn't make remarks about their likes or concerned allusions to their most destructive tendencies. The ultimatum is that he cares. He cares and 9.5 out of 10 times he won't allow himself to show that.
The exception is present-world Mauvier, because him being a separate Mauvier without intimate knowledge of the sins that Rafal committed exempts him from Rafal's 'obligation' to keep far, far away from the people that he's hurt. And because said obligation is such a strong motivation, even if he did realize his own hypocrisy I doubt he would reconcile with the fact or try to amend it.
#◜ ₊ — 𝓡 ˚ ₊ 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ╱ askbox.#thelightofcreation#unsungblade#thank you both for the topic i enjoyed writing about it#i like observing rafal like he's a creature in an enclosure#his hot and cold duality is what makes him so interesting but he has a lot of behaviors that debunk his own coldness#it really condenses down to the fact that he's a bad liar#not a good kid. but not a bad kid either. he has Problems and that's the only real constant
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Screams, the smell of fire. The taste of iron blood, and disorientation, as if he had been struck. Where was he? Home. The last few moments of a dream come to mind, and then he sees a swathe of green hair. Still, amongst rubble and blood. He takes out his staff, willing unpleasant memories to stay at bay.
The first attempt fails, Physic slipping from his hands as they shake uncontrollably. Do you remember what happened to your home? To your people?
The second attempt, guided by the Goddess (or simply desperation), succeeds, the wounds only closing slightly, but there is movement.
A deep breath, and he composes himself- or at least he tries to. “Sothe. Can you hear me? I need to get you back to the group…”
The world spins, blinding-bright heaven-white light.
Sothe's lungs are full of smoke and shrapnel and rubble of another word, and a voice echoes in his ears. He's floating, distant, not in his body. He coughs, and his ribcage rattles with the force, laying down as he is. He tastes iron.
He can't sit up. He tries, drops his weight back down, breathes out another glob of blood. His teeth are surely red. Again, until he can half-stand, if Sephiran will hold his weight, at least in part.
Where is he? Not-home. Not-Micaiah-not-Dawn-Brigade-not-Daein home.
"I - oof. What..?"
Breathless, breathless, every word a struggle. But he's alive, Goddess, he's alive.
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[ Impulse ]
Soren was thirsty.
He was so, awfully thirsty that some bizarre force took over him, stronger than anything else he'd ever felt, sending him into motion without any hope of resisting.
Looking Sephiran in the eyes, he was compelled to pick up the entire nearby punch bowl with both hands and drink deeply from the edge of it. The music coming from the ensemble paused as Soren drank his ultimate fill of punch. A few nearbly couples paused to stare at Soren too. He set it back down and sighed. The music started again, and people went back to dancing.
"Something's wrong with me," he commented, offering his hand for Sephiran to shake to exchange magical charges with.
I hope he doesn't remember this. Soren amended, I hope I don't either.
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