#verse :: rerezero
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@onlyhorn sent: Ram, holding a chef's knife: hand over the peppers. don't worry. i'll be sure to revive you if you pass out afterwards.
“So, maybe this is just me overthinking things, right? But what if you enjoyed those peppers yourself. And I get to enjoy watching you cooking them? That’s a good enough gift for me. Everyone wins! Why do you need to feed me whatever those go into? You know what it’s going to do already!”
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@onlyhorn sent: " My dearest most handsomest husband whom I love dearly and unconditionally... "
Rem, leaning on Raguna, one arm looped around his arm and the other clutching a small bag filled with goodies that they've acquired throughout the ongoing fall festival, was giving him puppy eyes that were practically begging for his attention -- and his favor.
" We should go back to that last stall we passed, honey. I saw that they had candied apples with nuts scattered on it. I know for a fact our little Betty would be more than thrilled to try one out. "
" What! " Responded the spirit, beside Raguna's unoccupied other side and holding his other hand as they waded through the crowd. " I never claimed I wanted any of that! " But the sad, parting glance that she'd given the stall as she passed by it -- which the perceptive Rem absolutely noticed -- might suggest otherwise. Rem's knowing smile is all it takes for Beatrice to know she'd been caught in the act. She pouts, glancing away and hiding a slight blush. " ... though, I wouldn't be opposed to it, I suppose.. "
You would have thought that the idea to visit the market had been the idea of the woman and (apparent) child, given the way they were flanking the man as they carried down the lane of stalls. It’s not that he’s unhappy about being there, oh no! That smile on his features is genuine don’t be pessimistic. Raguna is happy to be with Rem and Beatrice, but he looks passive in the presence of such strong femininity, confidence, and affection.
But how could he? The city market was a wonderful place to visit. Various scents of freshly cooked and ready to cook food wafted from block to block, the palette of colors a buffet of their own for the eyes with the variety of fruits and other produce. Nick nacks and crafts. Swords and other attire. The farmer had half a mind himself to pick up a new tunic for the coming winter with the hope that Rem would impart some opinions on what fit him ‘best’.
And yet, before that... something else seemed to have caught their eye. Or at least, the artificial spirit’s if Rem’s words were anything to believe. And if one doubted those, the flustered reaction of their contracted ‘daughter’ was all the remaining convincing one would need. Raguna comes to a stop at the mention, a firm grip on both of the women he cherished as he turned to face the stall before looking back down to Beatrice.
“You haven’t had a caramel apple before, have you? It’s not something I’ve made before after all.” He smiles with his eyes and lips as her reaction makes it clear that... while she hadn’t, she absolutely wanted to change that. Raguna squeezes her hand before the same affectionate look is turned to Rem. “Lets go get some apples. We could use a snack to give us a little more energy after all. We’ll be here for awhile longer before the errands are done.”
After a small awkward maneuver, and without releasing either of the fine ladies on his arms, Raguna has managed to turn the trio around, leading them back towards the stall and only then, reluctantly, does he release Betty’s hand and slip free from Rem’s arm. This is not, however, done without a tracing hand down her skin that catches her hand, a squeeze of its own before finally their fingers break so that he can pull out his coinpurse.
“Good afternoon, sir! Yes. We’ll take three of the apples you have here thank you. They look amazing. My daughter wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t give her one of her own, I’m sure she’ll be able to handle it herself.” It’s still strange to refer to Beatrice as such, but the alternative- calling her a spirit or a contracted anything at that would invite some odd queries. He and Rem, while clearly a loving couple, seemed a bit young to have a child that looked as old as Beatrice. Alas... battles were to be avoided.
Raguna turns back to his family, three apples between his fingers with the first passed to Rem with a smile. “For you, my love. You deserve plenty of thanks yourself for giving us the idea of stopping.” And then after reaching down the other is handed to Beatrice. “And for you. Careful not to eat it too fast. There’s a lot of sugar in the coating...”
Cronch.... chew chew. Raguna doesn’t wait to bite into his remaining apple. The nuts provide a surprisingly soft contrast to the crispness of the apple. The fruit’s tartness in itself a compliment to the sweet sticky sauce that held everything together. “...I said I’ve never made anything like this before.” Raguna says after swallowing his bite. “But maybe I should change that? It’s not as if we don’t eat healthy otherwise... treats like this now and then wouldn’t be bad. What do you two think? Maybe we could make something like this together with some apples from the orchard.”
#onlyhorn#inbox :: answered ic#verse :: rerezero#tumblr ate the tags I had for rem and beatrice#alas#what a cute family............#and this is before Lucia is in the mix!
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* the writing’s a little sloppy, like it’d been written by someone who hasn’t used a pen in literal years. *
Name: Argus
Age: 25.
Do you like to cuddle?: well youre really warm so
Can we make-out?: make out what?
A night in or dinner out?: i still get the feeling people are upset with me. if its ok with you id want to just keep it between us
Ice cream or chocolate covered strawberries?: whats an icecream? uhh strawberries
What makes you a good Valentine?: man
Would you cook for me?: yeah. i can make that grilled fish you like so much. or maybe i can catch something more exotic or hearty. i dont know if you like gamy stuff
Would you let me cook for you?: sure
@onlyhorn
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Maybe, eventually, there would come a time when Argus had more confidence in handing things off to the Knight Captain. But more often than not the oni takes the easier and less confrontational option of leaving things behind for Eira to find. Food Letters. Odds and ends. Sometimes he just leaves so he can have some time to be alone. It was difficult, but this is something she’s learned to give him, just as all the rest are things she accepts... for now. She’d much rather be handed things in person, if only so she can try to read his expression... perhaps see a face like the one he made when he offered her the wooden carving.
That isn’t the case here. She’s not quite sure where Argus found this form, but it’s clearly something silly that the villagers put together and handed to those they fancied. And... honestly. Gods she can’t stop the smile on her features. Had Argus spoken to one of them? Accepted one of these and saw fit to try and fill it out for her? His interest in her has hardly been a mystery even if her own feelings were difficult to pin down just yet. To say they weren’t tinted red, however... she does hate to lie.
“You should be holding such a higher opinion of yourself, Argus... you’re a far greater man than you try to believe. Perhaps a day together with just the two of us will help you understand that...”
#onlyhorn#inbox :: submission#inbox :: answered ic#verse :: rerezero#argus you can't just do this#she's reading everything that you're NOT writing here#submission
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Very often are games like “shogi” or “chess” used as metaphors to explain the movement and progression of one’s plans. This would be a poor fit for the recent events that were unfolding in Lugunica. To say it was either of these simple board games would imply that the other player was working with the same pieces, that they had the same insight and same ability to stand against his machinations. No no no, this was much more one sided. To call it a game to begin with was almost misleading.
After all, how can it be a game if barely anyone knows that you exist? That you’re even playing?
The presumption of his new title. The reawakening of his apostle. The tormenting of the vagrant oni. The strategic ransack of villages in the rural countryside. The amassing of power and creation of his ‘pieces’ were so scattered, so indirect, that it would take a stroke of great fortune to connect them all together. The hows. The wheres. The whys. The foreign being knew them all and played everything close to where he kept what remained of his heart.
There may have been one person in this plane of reality keen to his existence, but even he doubted how keen she may be to the plan he was spinning. The steps he was taking to claim the vault of power that was secreted away in this kingdom. He wondered if they knew that even she, a witch, had taken steps to bring his plans to fruition.
Ah how wonderfully the dominoes fell. Each beautiful piece of ivory pushing the next into motion. And now the greatest of harvests was ready to take place after what had been hundreds of years, a moment had made itself available. A moment that he had taken full advantage of with the sacrifice of barely any effort or danger on his part.
If there was one thing that Zeyrfial abhorred, it was senseless violence.
The town of Asten had been rocked by incredible power, the decaying host of the Heart of Despair now a decimated husk barely clinging to existence at the center of the market district. Any individuals who had woken from their state of despair or injury suddenly found themselves lulled into sleep as a thick mist roiled and saturated the entire town. As it billowed and encompassed the area it was like time itself had stood still. Ah, if only it were so. Zeyrfial and time had a rather curious relationship.
His entry would be considered casual were there anyone conscious to witness it. The demonic archbishop manifests from a rift in the mist as he steps out across what remained of the stonework in town. The town had seen some damage, the boy who had done his dirty work having done so quite haphazardly. Each step of leviathan-hide boots carries him closer to the heart, the lingering ache of despair hanging in the air.
Nothing left to feed upon. Nothing left to sustain itself. It was a shell of its former self within that corpse of a woman. It’s with pity in his eyes that he looks down upon the tattered remains as ichor-filled eyes turn and revolve to regard the entity.
“How good to see you again, old friend.”
There is no mercy or concern in his shadowed features despite the apparent connection he implied between them. He sweeps clear a place on the ground from blood, gore, debris, and ichor so that he can kneel closer, giving the other a piercing smile as they stare past those eyes into the true entity that lay beneath the host.
“I had warned you, had I not? That your freedom would only last so long. That you could only accomplish so much with these limitations. It’s a shame that I couldn’t just end this myself so long ago. I also told you that I am patient. And my forbearance now grants me you.”
He sweeps his cloak, the normally human like hand now cloaked in serpentine scales that ended in onyx talons.
They dig only through the charred shell of the corpse, but into the ichor itself, seeping within the pool with that ever present smile on their features. The other’s inhuman eyes flare in anger, hate, they try to resist but they were rendered far too weak to do anything in the face of the man’s breadth of power.
There’s a pulse, a flurry of air, and where one moment the ichor and Despair were there, the next there was nothing. Just the hollowed and decimated corpse of the great healer once known as Eris. The mortal’s eyes clear of distortion, and for the briefest of moments she too perhaps experienced a light of freedom from the parasite that had consumed her. A final look up at the sunny sky before the lack of mana and decimated body sent her to a final slumber.
Eris, however, was of no interest to Zeyrfial. Her long awaited passing goes without witness, without care, with nobody in the world left to mourn her death. He stood from the now twice finished corpse, turning to admire the prize held within his grasp. A solid black tome with blackened pages and a liquid sheen to the cover. It pulses angrily, but a simple squeeze of the binding adds another set of wards to the book, icy white chains now binding through the cover and insetting themselves into the book, quelling the anger and forcing it into submission.
“Ahhhh, come now. You should be pleased with me, Hod, you may have not been able to claim that boy as your vessel, but I have been preparing something much more suitable to our needs. I’ll give you exactly what it is you seek, and I believe that eventually you will find it in yourself to thank me. And I will patiently await that day, my dear friend.”
He flips the book into the air, letting it vanish into mist as he too, disappears into nothingness, the mist and fog coming along with him. And only then, did Asten finally find peace that day.
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@onlyhorn to face what they may, to end up how they will
Morning would come to Wylan all too soon. Though he was grateful that when he did drift off to sleep again after the mid-night wake, that he was once again safe from nightmares. All in all the night had been surprisingly restful. No, the disappointing was when he had to stir Ram from her rest against him, wake her with a few playful pinches before he extracted himself from bed to ready himself for- well. this.
Somber would have been the word for the morning routines and the overarching mood as they set out together on dragon-back for Asten, the town where Wylan had pinned down Eris’s location. Somber with fringes of hope. The pair attempted light conversation, plays and jokes, there was even a silly promise of ‘if we make it through this’ that got Wylan to laugh. Not so much Ram, she had a fire within her regarding this mission that Wylan wasn’t sure he could match. He had determination to see this through, but he couldn’t carry that over into seeing a tomorrow. Whether or not it would come to pass, his mind was focused on today. What was soon to be the now.
Asten was larger than Kremaldy, for Wylan it brought to mind how Raguna talked about his home of Kardia. A town that had been established as one of many trade hubs along the main highway that cut northeast through Lugunica. Actually, if he looked at the map right they were on the same road if separated by several hours of travel. Interesting how that works. Large markets and lovingly cobbled roads facilitating the frequent volume of traffic that passed through.
When they arrived to no sign or sensation of Eris, Wylan wasn’t sure to be relieved or disappointed. Did they have one more day? Did they miss her? Should they head out again and see if they could intercept her elsewhere? There were a lot of questions as they asked around town, considered the options, and enjoyed what they could of one another’s company. Travelling with Ram was, after all, something Wylan had come to truly enjoy.
Things begin changing for the worst during a break for lunch in a market square. Wylan was trying to figure out how to best enjoy an over saturated sandwich when he feels the buzzing in his head increase. Uncertain if it was just tinnitus or otherwise he swats at his ear, then came the throb. A surge of sensation he hadn’t felt before and yet- was curiously familiar. In response it was as if all the worms and whispers he’d been feeling in his mind the past months suddenly moved as one and twisted inside his skull. That was when he felt the pain.
It was one hell of a greeting.
“Gck! Ram? Do you-” His first thought was to turn to his partner, to see what had happened to her before he’d spin his head to survey the area in general. Was she here? Was this just the shit in his head? There were a lot of questions and he’s already getting up and ready to be on the offensive. The hilt of his sword gripped tight.
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late birthday?! wait... this is... || [ closed? ]
@onlyhorn sent: " Sorry!! I'm sorry this is so late.. " Emilia bows to Wylan, stammering slightly as she handles a small basket. " I heard from Puck that your birthday was a few days ago.. " A bit of an understatement. " I've been stuck wondering what to get you for a while now, but, I think I've finally found a good gift for you, Wylan-san. "
Behold! In the basket lies a small towel gently covering....
... oh. oh dear. Are those peppers? Those are extremely dark-looking peppers.
" I know it's not a 'normal' gift, but, I thought since you liked Ram-san's cooking so much, you might enjoy it if she used these peppers with your food! They're way too spicy for me, but you'll probably like it! "
There is some highly intimidating aura radiating off of those peppers...
Emilia finds Wylan in the midst of practicing his swordplay and magic-work. Lightning quick strikes mixed with a thunder of their own as he rapid switches his stance for a variety of advancing strikes. The hum of his weapon dulls at the half-elf’s approach, the swordsman’s gaze shifting from fixed to curious at her apologizing and politeness... right, she hadn’t been around for his birthday, like many others, thanks in kind to Ram as part of her gift.
“You didn’t need to get me anything. Wishing a good one works well enough, it’s what most people did. Or a card or a cake. Besides I like some strange stuff so--” And he finds himself interrupted, before a joke can be made that would absolutely soar above the woman’s head. The basket is revealed, and inside of it... oh fuck. He recognizes those in an instant! Raguna had talked about growing some new peppers or something with Blue, and in the midst talked about ones that looked like this. That he remembers only makes this worse.
There’s an instinctive gulp as he looks at the peppers, face shifting again, but now tensing up into a false smile of appreciation. He’s fucked, he’s absolutely fucked in the ass. No, that would probably be preferable to what these would do to his digestive system come to think of it!
“O-oh, well look at that. You’re pretty observative there, Milly... never would have expected that. Thanks.” Seriously?! Of all the things she does notice? But does she realize that he has little choice but to enjoy the cooking? That if Wylan were to push away those spicy dishes how sad it would make his princess? Damned if he does, damned if he doesn’t... and now is the predicament.
Sure, Wylan could toss the peppers or hide them. But what if Emilia brings it up to Ram, how did she enjoy cooking with them? Did they both enjoy them? He sees that fiery pink gaze turning to him now in that show of confusion. I want to know what she’s talking about, Wylan. Ohhhh shit. No, that’s out of the question.
“I can’t wait to see what my little princess cooks up with it...”
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today is a special birthday boy day || [ open all day ]
@onlyhorn sent:
" Hey. Wake up. " Nudge nudge. Nudge nudge. It's a little into the morning, and it seems Wylan's being woken up by an already wide-awake Ram. She's already fully dressed, but not in her typical maid uniform. She exchanged it for a more casual wear which she usually donned when traveling -- a white blouse, light-green skirt, and black leggings, save for the usual addition of boots and a matching light-green cloak. She's sat on the bed, gently tugging on his arm, looking only mildly (but playfully) frustrated at his sleepiness. Must've been a fun night thanks to their 'antics' prior to bedrest.
" Today's a special day for you, " She begins, leaning over slightly just to place a hand over his still sleepy-looking face. " I made sure that we wouldn't be disturbed today. Rem and Beatrice are out with Raguna, Emilia is out in the city for official business... I even made sure Hotaru would be occupied for most of the day. "
Is that what that subtle, lingering scent of a delicious breakfast feast was...?
... wait, is she forgetting someone? Eh, probably not.
" I figured we'd do anything you wanted today... so I made sure nothing would keep that from happening. " She smiles, with a rare twinge of excitement in those pleasant features of hers, glistening with the rays of sunlight that peeked in through the slightly-parted curtains over the window. " What would you like to do first, my prince? "
Slowly, lazily, do Wylan’s eyes finally open from the incessant prodding. First thoughts, as usual, were what time is it, and given from the light that crept through the curtains the answer was another usual ‘later than you would have thought’. But, given everything the two had been up to the previous night (and the room still looked it) he could be forgiven. Ram, however? Wylan squints and stares at her incredulously.
“...I can’t believe you’re up and about like this. How can you even feel your legs, princess? Shit, I didn’t even wake up when you got out of bed. You must have drugged me.” He laughs, of course, as if this was something he could be frustrated about legitimately. With her horn fixed and her magic flow restored she was like three people wrapped up in one-- which made night activities fantastic by the by.
It’s with a quirked brow of intrigue that Wylan listens to what Ram has to reveal on his birthday, already making the subconscious move to pull the woman into bed with him after throwing off the sheet. Even if he didn’t have any intentions for now, he still wanted her closer to him. Something Ram surely must have expected for someone as physical as he was. Everyone was out of the mansion? They had it to themselves? Oh, that was dangerous... without the one guy or Rem around to chastise them for acting out, they could let loose.
One thing is different, Wylan realizes, from the usual Ram. It’s one of the few, rare times that Ram asks him a question rather than making a statement of her desires. It’s a refreshing difference, and Wylan quickly realizes he’s not used to it after all this time. A snort through his nostrils before he leans back into the bed, arms folded behind his bed as Ram laid on top of him.
“Prince, eh? This is new... but what to do with that kind of power. The only thing I’ve ever felt like ruling, other than myself, is you... and now I have you as my servant? A maid, but unironically? Hmhmhm, alright...” His lips smirk so tightly that his eyes are squeezing. How far can he push this? He’s going to test. He sits upright, adopting the new ‘facade’ with a spritely face and hand on his chin pensively.
“....well, the prince wishes to be bathed before anything else is done. It was a particularly hot night and needs to be properly cleaned before he gets dressed. Today, he needs to wear his fanciest outfit.”
Will he be stealing some of that one guy’s clothes? It’s very possible.
#onlyhorn#verse :: rerezero#inbox :: answered ic#:: birthday 2021#ah so its gonna go like this huh#im not sure I want to think how far they take this#for a queen in a robe or a knight on a steed :: ram x wy
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@onlyhorn sent: " Father. " Betty pipes up, somewhat bashfully, as she stomps up to Raguna and faces him with all her tiny might. Beatrice looks determined, but there is a very evident flush over her cheeks that indicate embarrassment she's trying to desperately hide. " I... suppose I will call you Father, starting now. It feels too.... odd. To refer to you as anyone else. " She pauses, then casts her gaze down to the floor. " ... if... it's alright with you, I suppose. "
There’s no telling what Raguna may be in for when it came to Beatrice and her episodes. Well, episodes isn’t the right way of putting it. Maybe it’d be better to phrase it as uh, whenever the spirit had need of something. She was forceful about such things and yet it wasn’t as if she was spoiled, Raguna saw it as being direct. Raguna, I need a place to keep my books. Raguna, I would prefer a more sequestered room, I suppose. Raguna, the chickens.... ahem. I suppose they could be warmer. The list went on a bit more than that, but perhaps the idea is properly conveyed.
And yet this never bothered him. Working to help others had been one of his most important pursuits ever since he woke up in the countryside. Paying back the kindnesses that people had given to him. Certainly there were some folks out in the world who saw his generosity as a farce to ‘buy’ the assistance or kindness of others, but convincing those individuals that some people just like to see others being happy is a difficulty.
Even Beatrice fell into this category, through the months and months that he spent coming around the manor and associating with the Roswaal estate he had always tried to find points where he was able to see Beatrice and do things for her in spite of her protests. Bringing her books. Making her treats. Talking about anything they may be able to relate on (which, at first, was very little). And yet he had no goal in this other than spending time with her. It had taken until she confessed her situation to him, and made the contract with him, for the spirit to realize this. To realize that this wasn’t some trick or deception. Raguna just wanted her to be happy and wouldn’t hesitate to go beyond what was normal for a person to do so.
Because he cared about her.
Maybe some people would expect this turn of events as the next order of business. Like taking another step around a well lit pathway in the woods. Of course this kind of thing should come naturally, right? When you hear the babbling of the brook is it really so surprising to find the water and a little waterfall off to the side? For Raguna, it would seem..... yes it is. Her declaration throws his eyes open from the content lidding they’d been indulging in. Something different stirs in his chest. His heart was an organ that had already been through so much. With finding who he was, with falling for Rem, with dying and returning, with the revelation of Zeyrfial...
…there was so much for him to protect. And it was almost an entirely thankless job. Protecting everyone he could- had he forgotten that he wasn’t the only one who wished to reciprocate that love? Rem notwithstanding. Of course. Maybe this was his own naivete plaguing him. Letting his eyes remain closed to ignore the fear and pain was unintentionally blocking out everything that his efforts were creating and preserving. This was one of those things. One of the most important of them. Beatrice.
And now with those eyes opened he could see that in a way his spirit was paying him back for some of his kindness to her. It was so easy for him to forget that he had a contract with the spirit and she was obligated to stay around him. His resources of mana are so plentiful he rarely feels it when she needs the energy, even on top of what energy also cycled because of his contract with Leif. Raguna sniffs after a light chuckle at her request, wipes a tear from his eye and smiles brightly before ushering her into a hug, one he doesn’t release for some time.
Father... Father... Gods, Raguna had always wanted a family, it was the first wish that came to him after he found his bearings and started building a life around helping others. One towards a future, one that he knew that he wished to have with Rem. But he never thought the first person to be a part of their family would be someone adopted like this. Someone saved.
“Of course, Betty, I... I think I’d really like that, actually. Thank you.” Even if it felt weird. Even if it was a surprise. This felt right. Just like holding the spirit in his arms did.
#onlyhorn#inbox :: answered ic#verse :: rerezero#i will do everything i can; i will be that person for you :: beatrice & raguna#hey op.......
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@onlyhorn sent: Betty holds his hand. She's not looking at him. She's flushed a bit-- clearly unused to this, but- she wants it just as much as he does. That much is obvious. " Don't say anything, I suppose. "
The days leading up to the festival had a way of taking a toll on the farmer. He took several of the preparations on himself despite many insisting he doesn’t. Even now, with the fall festival happening in Arlam, a place that wasn’t even his home, he had felt the need to contribute. Pies. Decorations. Setting up tables and tents. Fortunately this year for this festival he had Rem with him. Not only to contribute herself but to reign Raguna in were he to try too hard or push himself more than he should. This year’s tally? Three times.
Even before the new part of his ‘family’ had been added, spending the time working with her made everything go so much more... pleasantly? Smoothly? There were a number of adjectives to describe it, the same ones he’d use to describe living with Rem in general for that matter. Cooking together. Pie tasting together. Carving pumpkins together. Marveling at Rem’s ability to carry an entire tent by herself... marveling at Rem...
Oh, he’d been doing that now too during the festival, hadn’t he? To be so easily distracted by his fiancée, that was in part how Wylan had been able to wrest a certain spirit away from her contractor for an impromptu dance during the closing festivities lit by the grand bonfire. Both he and Rem were equal witnesses as Ram in seeing the swordsman pull her to the dance floor, dancing her about, spinning her like a child. Granted, she was not allowing herself to show that similar glee as a normal girl would being turned about by a man such as him. She was still quite herself, and quite the... oh what was the word. Wylan had said it once.
A few times, catching fragments of her complaints and (hopefully) empty threats, Raguna can’t help himself from laughing, smiling in a way that felt unfamiliar to him thus far, yet it gave him a sense of warmth that complimented the way it felt to be next to Rem. Like another piece of his soul had found its way back to his body, another piece to the puzzle of who he was. Who he wanted to be.
When the ‘dance’ was said and done, with Wylan striding over to take Ram into his hand to dance with her, Beatrice quickly found her way back to Raguna’s side. She mutters and casts a glance back towards the swordsman who was now fussing with Ram. Fixing hand positions or something of the sort. Ram had a ways to go to be a dancer like Wylan, but both of them could probably go circles around the farmer.
Beatrice says something else unsuitable of a girl with her appearance before she was back at his side. Her face was flushed. And Raguna found his hand taken in hers. So small. Having never physically interacted with Beatrice in any way, it was always so strange being closer to her now. Her personality and sharp tongue had always compensated for her short stature, being with her now when she was, well, softer, made it all the more obvious.
“Don’t say anything, I suppose.”
Don’t say anything about what? He wonders. How he could tell she had enjoyed herself with Wylan? How she had come back and so quickly taken his hand? How he presumed she was happy to have come to the festival? All were things that actually made him quite happy as well, after all. Was she worried he’d tease her? The irony of the situation was enough to get Raguna to chuckle a bit himself, earning him a scrutinizing stare from the spirit as she flashed him the look. And yet her hand remained in his, and his hold on her stayed as the dance continued.
The two of them stand there for another moment before he feels a weight leaning on him. The day had been long, and even before Beatrice speaks up Raguna wonders if she’s getting tired. Between the pies, contest, food, dancing, everything else, it was undeniably more of an exertion than she was probably used to.
“...I’m getting tired, I suppose.” She speaks the words with an attempt at an edge, but Raguna can’t help but detect some frustration in her tone. As if this realization was not what she wanted, and he further surmises, she wasn’t yet wanting to turn in.
“You know, Beatrice, if you don’t want to head back yet, I can carry you. It wouldn’t be a problem at all for me. We can watch more of the dance or see if there’s any other desserts we’d like to try. I don’t think they’ve taken the food away yet. There may be more of those cookies you liked.” Ah, not only is he speaking when asked to stay silent but he’s just going to call her out a bit, isn’t he? Yielding to a half hearted request to leave wasn’t in either of their best interests. Beatrice looks confused, flustered, and yet does nothing to tell him no. In fact, instead, she holds both her arms up in invitation all the while avoiding eye contact.
Raguna follows through with the opening to lift her up, setting her in the crook of an arm. Difficult? Not at all as he had mentioned. His appearance was deceptive, hiding a great amount of strength in his own right even if he still couldn’t match Rem. Added bonus? Now Beatrice could see the rest of the dancers as well as the brilliant bonfire at the center of it all.
Also visible were Ram and Wylan who had taken center stage (to the surprise of none of Roswaal’s group). Arm in arm. Hand in hand. They turn and spun and smiled and laughed together all the while beaming with a love that... well, Raguna is far from jealous. He just never would have expected someone like Wylan to look so naturally happy without a twisted grin or glint of a scheme in his eyes. In this moment, the swordsman was there with the woman he loved.
And also in this moment, with Beatrice in one arm and Rem taking his other, Raguna realizes that now he too was quite happy as well. Wasn’t he? This was the culmination of his efforts from weeks prior. Defeat of the basilisk. Making the contract with Beatrice. Saving Arlam. None of this would have happened had he given in. Gods is he glad he ignored Lumina’s instruction, that he took the safety of others over his own. There’s the sensation of a tear rolling down his cheek, hopefully unnoticed in the dark flickering firelight, as he holds both Beatrice and Rem closer to him. He would never run away.
“Lets go find that dessert table. I’m actually in the mood for another slice of pie, I think. How about you two?”
#onlyhorn#inbox :: answered ic#verse :: rerezero#though the past is painful our future will bloom like a garden :: rem x raguna#i will do everything i can; i will be that person for you :: beatrice & raguna#hey
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@onlyhorn
YES!!!
HELL
FUCKIN
Oh. Ouch.
“I may have gotten a little too enthusiastic there.” Rem has that effect on him...
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@onlyhorn sent: It's a cold day out in the marketplace today. Raguna and Rem are out getting textiles for knitting and sowing purposes, though Rem is still feeling somewhat playful today. Mittens are removed and tucked into little pockets, and just like she usually does, Rem leeeeeeans on Raguna's side, pressing up against him, seemingly sharing warmth, even going the extra mile just to tuck her head into the crevice between his neck and shoulder... only to betray him with ice-cold hands tickling his sides.
Lists are on the mind. Lists of things to pick up in order to make the items he needed for the coming season. New blankets and tarps and clothes and accessories. In previous years buying items for himself was easily done. He wanted for little in the area of style and variety and was happy to get by with the basics. But now he was also supporting Rem and Beatrice. Sure, Rem technically lived at the manor still, but in both their hearts she had already moved in with him at the homestead in Kardia. She had her own place for clothes, her own chair she would sit in to read, and pictures she liked on the walls.
For Raguna, it was as much Rem’s home as it was his. And that’s how he loved it. But it was harder than he thought sometimes doing the upkeep for such. And Beatrice... well, she was different from Rem. She had certain needs if not demands for what she wanted. The greatest of which was certain living conditions for the chickens... not even her! Thinking of the way it was all phrased, dismissive yet weighted, brings another smile to his face and warmth to his features. Much needed when the weather was already this cold.
Rem, it would seem, had a similar idea of getting some needed warmth from Raguna. Her touch coming and being accepted as naturally as his mind continues to wander. Ah, how bad for him, he’s completely unguarded as the recollection of lists becomes the recollections of lengths. How much of the silk did they need vs linen? Wool was covered so-- oh, this was actually quite comfortable!
Raguna leans his head over, taking Rem into an arm and allowing her into the coat he was wearing and planting a small kiss on her forehead while they walked to the next stall that had proper bolts of the right style he was seeking. Beatrice liked patterns more like this after all. So maybe he gets tw--
”Ooooah!” He shoots up like a stalk of corn, straight and narrow as the shock of her cold palms spreads through his nerves like a flood. Each chill chattering him like the last. “R-Rem!! How are you-- s-so cold! Ah! Ahhh!” He grits his teeth like someone’s putting in stitches without drugs thinking he’d be able to bear it without making a scene. And yet... after an excruciating moment of cold it gets worse. She’s.... she’s tickling him!
“EEEEEEHH! S-stah- Stahp! I ca- I can’t!!” He can’t what? Several things. Talk. Sit still. Hold the bag he was carrying. Or stand up. It’s only another moment of her tormenting that Raguna is down for the count. Crying? Laughing? Until she relents he’s more or less helpless in the trodden snow.
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" I'm not very sure what you want from me, Wylan-san.. " It had to be THE most anger-inducing thing in the world - there is no way in hell anyone is this much of a ditz that they don't understand off-handed flirts or silly jokes, right? One would believe that Emilia had grown up under a rock... or in a block of ice. Either way- no matter how much he tries to get his jokes across, she never gets them. " You're looking increasingly frustrated... maybe I should just leave. My apologies. " Oops.
@onlyhorn needs to be protected...
“Emilia...” What’s with his voice? Have you ever heard something so deflated, so resigned to fate and utterly defeated. It was of course, a last hurrah, a final attempt to get the half-elven candidate into a blush or react to a half-hearted flirt. Did he have any actual romantic interest in the girl? Of course not, that was all reserved for Ram. And yet Emilia still existed as this anomaly inside of the manor. Someone who simply could not see him for what he was trying to be. Nothing was working on her and this may just be the last straw. For the both of them.
She’s turning to leave, making good on her word (because Gods she always finds some way to do so, the honest do good-er she is) thinking that by removing herself from his presence he’ll feel better and regain his senses. She’s right, but he’s also not letting it happen just yet. An arm falls on her shoulder, turning her to face him, his other arm finding rest on her opposite as he stares into her eyes.
She’s so damn confused. So genuinely unaware of what he’s trying to do, whether it be joking or flirting. It all goes over her head. Not a moment of realization, and kindness persists through every attempt even now. She’s a monster. Part of him thinks she needs to be put out of her misery in a world like this, and yet... well, there’s a lot of reasons why he wouldn’t do that. Doesn’t change the fact that it was a thought.
Wylan’s hands rise from her shoulders to her cheeks, holding her face like that as tears come to his eyes... are those real?? He chuckles, squishing her face into some odd expression, anything to give him respite from the look she usually has. Finally he can laugh, and so he does before releasing her. A turn on his heel, a shadow over his form, as he takes his leave first, waving over his shoulder at her as he departs.
“Don’t you ever change. You stay that same goddamn brilliant self, a beacon in this hell of a world. I’m gonna ... go water the crops or something.”
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onlyhorn replied to your post “Wylan Rechtur has appeared! What to do? Marry Awkward hug Do “it” Hug”
ram: hug. But from behind. She's climbing on. Piggyback time.
So the princess’s knight has become her steed as well? Ah, he could make some comments here (more than a few) but instead--
“Wanna see how fast I can run with the new magic?” She better hold the fuck on.
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@onlyhorn sent: " They shouldn't be forcing you to do all the work by yourself. " Rem huffs, clearly a bit displeased -- not at Raguna, per se, but at his acquaintances, 'business partners,' people who are clearly using him for their own gains, taking advantage of his kindnesses and stepping on them to get to higher ground. " If I had any say in the matter, I'd promptly tell them to carry their fair share of weight. They depend on you, after all. You could easily tie them down, honey. "
Raguna has come a long way since he had first met Rem. As a person. As a lover. As a fighter. And also as a businessman. Putting aside the two contracts he had formed with two powerful spirits there were also the ones involving his line of work. While not a reputable network just yet the products he put out into the world more often than not spoke for themselves. That was something that hadn’t needed to change all that much; Raguna’s ability to tend to the land and provide a fine array of produce, not least of all his cucumbers.
And yet one thing that hasn’t changed since then is how he comes across to others. Naive. Vulnerable. Simple. Arguably some of this still applied but he was quicker witted than he let on. Circumstances demanded he be such in order to stay alive sometimes quite literally. Even now as he sorts jars into crates for shipping and delivery, one would think that such grunt work could be better handled by others if he was the man to be ‘running the show’. Rem wasn’t wrong (and even if she was, Raguna wouldn’t argue with her).
“Well, I’m glad you aren’t of a mind to try attacking them anymore. It looks like I’m not the only one who has come some ways since we met.” His chuckle is light, and his grin playful as he walks past his fiancee, affectionately bumping into her as he went to get another crate to add to the set that he was loading onto the cart for transport. “But there’s a reason I’m not doing that... I volunteered to do this extra work and bring the goods into the city.”
Raguna sets down the crate and sets to putting more jars and bundles inside after laying some light straw for protection. Pickled turnips would go into this one.
“Those businessmen are looking for quick easy victories, but I’m looking at investments beyond the coin and time I could be saving. The long term. Whenever I go into the city like this, I get to meet more people and work alongside them. I’m building relationships that can go beyond a simple work environment. These are people who can help me in the future if need be. Or they can become clients for other things I may be able to provide them. The businessmen do depend on me... because it isn’t their work that people are buying or trusting in.”
He hammers the nails into the top of the crate, sealing it shut before setting it with the others.
“It’s me and my reliability. That I’ll have the best produce and best work ethic to stand behind it. And those people will hear about that through word of mouth. Eventually... I won’t even need these merchants. They’ll be coming to us.” He smiles.
“They’ll be coming to our store.”
#onlyhorn#inbox :: answered ic#verse :: rerezero#though the past is painful our future will bloom like a garden :: rem x raguna
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" Raaaguuuunaaaaa~. " Rem's voice playfully muses from the other room, though she remains hidden behind the door which she has wistfully placed herself against. " I've made this really nice pie, but I was wondering if you would like to taste it before we eat it together! " She has made a pie, yes -- what he doesn't know is that it's a cream pie, literally topped with a mound of whipped cream, perfect for plopping against his face the moment he enters the room. And yes - she plans to eat it too.
@onlyhorn
Ledgers and numbers have been holding much of Raguna’s attention in the last week. Storms and a fungus had his yields low and he was struggling somewhat to make numbers work between deliveries to the manor (where they had just come back from) and making sales at the market.
The thoughts have him a bit distracted as one can imagine, and it would be no surprise if Rem had taken notice of his growing preoccupation and worry. Time spent on worrying and fretting is time not being spent on her, after all. Aside from that there’s also the matter of his frequently soured expression. Was this allowed? Certainly not. And unbeknownst to the farmer his lovely fiancee was crafting plots to fix this.
Raguna perks up immediately at the sound of her voice. That lyrical lull as she sings out his name is already doing work to lift his mood and distract him from numbers and budgets and all that nonsense. She’d know he was on his way when she heard the slide of a chair against the floor after the plink of pencil hits the table. She’d be at the ready.
“You made a pie and want me to try it first?” It’s surprise more than suspicion. Usually Raguna is the one seeking taste tests after all. “I’d love to have--” Rem jumps out! She has the biggest smile on her face as she reaches up with the pie, using both hands to--!!
FPLURP.
He stops mid-stride as the cool cream meets his face and envelops his features. Hands remain out stretched where they were about to try and, well, either open the door the rest of the way or accept the pie. His brain hadn’t been ready fast enough to account for this turn of events. The tin is pulled away, but the majority of contents have decided to stay with their new home on Raguna’s face.
“MMrgf?” He would blink if he could open his eyes, and speak if he could open his mouth. He reaches up a hand to pull away at some of the cream. When his eyes are cleared he sees that Rem is... incredibly smug with herself. Setting the tin aside on a counter before she returns to admiring him, looking curious.
“Well, Raguna? How does it taste?”
There’s movement around where one would expect his mouth to be, and then the flick of a tongue as he manages to clear away enough to breathe and, well, properly enjoy what Rem had given him. It definitely tastes great, but before responding he turns his eyes down to her. She wouldn’t be able to tell, but he was grinning quite a bit. The masking of his features would inevitably hide his own intents until it was too late.
He needed this. He needed her. So much more than he realized sometimes. Doing this all alone before, sometimes he wonders how he was able to get so far without her love and support.
“It’s delicious, Rem.” At last he responds. Raguna then takes some of the cream and plaps it onto her pleased looking face! “Make sure you try some too!”
They’re going to be spending some time cleaning up the kitchen together by the time this is over. They’ll probably need to make some more cream pies. But at least they’ll be doing it all together. And she was more than successful at getting her Raguna back to smiling and laughing again.
#onlyhorn#inbox :: answered ic#verse :: rerezero#hey op#i love them#though the past is painful our future will bloom like a garden :: rem x raguna
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@onlyhorn sent: Raguna had been out all day, his usual business dragging on longer than it usually does, meaning that he wouldn't be home until later on in the evening. This was atypical, but a good opportunity for one Spirit with nothing better to do (aside from continuing to train her chickens). When Raguna is home, he'd find a basket (one that he likely made with Rem, during one of their gushy at-home project incursions) filled with his freshly washed, dried, and folded laundry. And a little chicken feather.
He wishes there was a way to send a message back to the homestead, things like this were never a problem after all when it was just him living there. The animals waited as they may if Raguna needed to do things with them, but it was another thing when he was unable to get in touch with Beatrice. As far as he knew their contract didn’t allow that kind of long distance communication. But then, what had Raguna tried to learn about their bond? He didn’t care about the powers or abilities that the artificial spirit granted him, this had all been for her happiness and well-being and nothing more.
Beatrice could tell him that he now had the magic power to teleport and his response would be ‘Oh, really? But that doesn’t hurt you, does it?’. Replace this sentiment with any other spell or thing and the result would be much the same. His attention (when it wasn’t on his lovely beautiful enchanting fiancee, Rem) was on making sure she and the farm had what it needed while trying to keep the world at bay. There were after all still threats to be contented with, hence his visit to the blacksmith in the city today. For all the capability he had with his own forge and anvil, it was still necessary to get tools and materials and learn tips from the masters of the craft.
...and yet, getting into conversation with Amber somehow ended up going later than intended. If he hadn’t learned so much from the woman Raguna would regret the endeavor, but with some of the new tricks he was hoping to try out he was beyond excited. That, and the fine ingot of truesteel he’d use to fortify some of his tools at home.
He’s once again reviewing the list of tasks that would need to be done at double pace in order for him to get into bed at a proper time when the cart pulls up at the homestead. A sluggish hop from the driver’s bench and distracted leading of his land dragon to its pen where it would probably fall asleep quite promptly itself. Ah to be so lucky. Raguna chuckles, giving them a gentle pat before he finally opens the front door.
“I’m home...!” A yawn nearly interrupts the exclamation of return, and Raguna cuts off the exasperation with the back of his hand to his face. “Phew. That was quite a... day...?” He doesn’t see Beatrice (nor was she out with the chickens, who had already been put to the coop he imagined) (by his estimations then she was reading in her library) but he does see a basket by the steps that lead up to the loft where the master bedroom was. Full of freshly washed clothes... and... hm?
“What’s this?” Raguna steps up to the handwoven item, his hand immediately brushing up against the spot where a certain distraction during its construction resulted in a break, and so he and Rem had tied a knot together to fix it up again. There’s an instinctive smile, a fond recollection before he returns his attention to what had initially caught his eye aside from the laundry. The feather. “....did Beatrice? Ha.” The smile grows fonder, his attention going off towards the hall that lead back to the spirit’s ‘wing’ of the house. Where her sleeping quarters, library, and of course a door that opened directly to a path leading to the chicken coop were located. He can’t see her from here, it would require a small bit of navigation, but he wonders...
“I’ll have to thank her for this later. That’s one less thing for me to worry about.” He hefts the basket into his arms, passing another look (was that a dash of blond drill hair that disappeared behind the door frame...?) in that direction before he ascends the stairs. And-- ah, there’s the fatigue waiting for him. But at least thanks to the spirit he earned a brief respite of the day.
#onlyhorn#inbox :: answered ic#verse :: rerezero#op look at him#look at them...#i will do everything i can; i will be that person for you :: beatrice & raguna
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