wolfhednn

[wolfhednn]

he's ready to tell her he'd been joking when she follows with something so preposterous, it disarms anything he was going to say. abductions? his incredulous expression speaks volumes: what do you have to prove that? students came and went all the time. perhaps it was a little strange that there were so many recently, but wasn't ' abduction ' just as baseless an assumption?

before he can verbalise the question, someone else draws close and he's then towed forward by the hand with surprising force. "hey, wh—" feet stumble headfirst, hastening to lighten their fall.

best to stay quiet.

bewildered, even stunned he might be, but he can tell when someone's looking for secrecy. following the shadows as they move across the girl's face and the way she tracks the departing sound with unprecedented focus, it sinks in. she is serious. he's turning this realization over ( and idly rubbing the now-released wrist — her grip was strong ) when she finally speaks up again. this time, she doesn't even have to finish before he senses her angle, and the frown is already etching itself in disapproval when she poses the ultimatum.

"what you're suggesting isn't just some hunt," he returns sourly, "and don't joke around. you wouldn't last a single second as bait." not to mention reckless when she didn't even know what she was looking for. but he's just stalling for time to think, he knows. she won't give him any, though. "i've already made up my mind." so the question was only whether he'd be an accomplice to keep her from disappearing too, or stay here.

it was only the illusion of a choice. why was everyone like this. though he supposes he shouldn't be surprised to learn she's as much a nuisance in negotiations as when she's demanding his attention during training.

"fine. i'll help you." he grits it out like it's a bad taste. ( though he has to admit, the thought of a real threat and a challenge interests him too — it shows in his eyes. ) "but only to keep you from running headlong into some trap." arms fold, this time in earnest. "you sound like you've looked into it already. what's your plan."

　tailor of roses and their thorns.

　　　　　　　　　 　　❪　m. recovery　/　sword point　❫

#﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + ╱ TAILOR OF ROSES AND THEIR THORNS . #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + ╱ TO KNOW LIGHTNING LIKE HEARTBREAK ‣ dorothea . #encantresse #tbh i think it'd be rly funny if they ended up going w the bait plan anyWAY SJHNKJSNGKB #just smashcut forward to felix being like (stares into camera like he's in the office) #whether u want to actually hash out a plan or just jump forward #I'LL JUST YES-AND as usual

[wolfhednn]

dismissal is enough to deter most people, but apparently not this time. it's with regret that he notes fogado's voice drawing close again to continue its interrogation — he doesn't bother looking to see how far back he was following; the echo of sound alone tells him a few paces, carrying even clearer in the curious absence of footfall on gravel. hm. at least he knew to keep his distance.

fogado's not being extraordinarily loud, but felix's eyes scan the long street anyway as it plunges further into darkness ahead, the deep shadows stretching like tarps between structures swallowed where angles and rooftops block the soft reach of moonlight. the neighborhood has seemed quiet in the week they've been here, and the would-be soldiers returned to their homes each night individually without incident. still, theft, violence, and unrest didn't miraculously disappear just because there were no more tears in the sky.

"hhh, enough, quit prattling," he snaps on the back of an aggravated breath upon realizing fogado was still not done talking. "if i wanted help, i'd ask. since i didn't, that obviously wasn't the case."

and what was this about a ' lone wolf? ' don't tell him he'd heard that from the rest of their classmates. he's aware they had all sorts of nicknames for him.

with how much the other had gone on after the initial question, anyone else would've lost it already. "they just don't have knight potential, all right? i'm not in the mood to debate you. if you think they do, go back and waste your time with them instead." and save them both this waste of breath. it didn't have anything to do with swinging a sword — anyone with a strong enough desire and a good teacher could learn to do that. but what did this foreign prince know, or care? he wasn't from faerghus; he didn't know what it was like.

more than likely, he'd be like the rest. tell him ' protecting king and country is as noble a cause as any, felix '. and he seemed the type to let anyone do whatever they wanted. so let him, then. they weren't the same.

　hypocrisies that made you.

　　　　　　 　　　 　　❪　m. recovery　/　any point　❫

#﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + ╱ HYPOCRISIES THAT MADE YOU . #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + ╱ JACKAL IN PURSUIT OF THE SUN ‣ fogado . #losojosdecupido #spittingcat.sfx

[wolfhednn]

considering he hadn't even been thinking about the alleged disappearances until today, no, he hadn't thought it was odd. he doesn't know how many were supposed to have vanished, or for what reason, or if there was any pattern to all of it — only that it had something to do with the sound of a long c-sharp, whatever that was supposed to mean. he hadn't noticed anything like that himself, but also since when did notes start carrying anyone off in the middle of the night?

still, she looked pretty bothered by it, and both her expression and the vehemence from her words are more than the usual nervousness that came with rumors. did she know something about it? or maybe it was personal. it wasn't common for the average student here to care enough about something like this to do anything about it; most would sooner hide and protect themselves, and wait for the knights to take action. either she happened to care a lot about her classmates, or else she was bored and fancied herself a hero.

... wait, was that why she was going out this late?

frown deepens, and he rests a hand on his hip in inquisition. "that's for me to decide. anyway, say this is real. what do you plan to do about it? speak to the officials? the cathedral'll be closed at this hour." and he finds the idea of some coalition of students banding together late at night over tall tales of mice and maybe tinnitus to be too absurd to believe. though that kind of absurdity might just be exactly what runs rampant in the heads of his peers.

which left another possibility, equally preposterous. a huff foregrounds it, disdainful. "don't tell me you intend to go looking for them yourself." the half-smirk suggests he's purely joking.

　tailor of roses and their thorns.

　　　　　　　　　 　　❪　m. recovery　/　sword point　❫

#﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + ╱ TAILOR OF ROSES AND THEIR THORNS . #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + ╱ TO KNOW LIGHTNING LIKE HEARTBREAK ‣ dorothea . #encantresse #“well HELLO to u too felix” i died #their dynamic is already so on point kjnlkalmkfmjf honestly thank god for dorothea #tho that shit just rolls right off felix's dumb ass u know how it is

[wolfhednn]

settling back into life at the monastery doesn't take long. and the academy itself hasn't changed. the halls are full until curfew, and though most of the faces he sees have changed, his classes and training still keep him occupied from just after sunrise to well after sunset. it's a welcome rhythm, and because there's never any shortage of trouble coming up to their doorstep, it rarely gets dull, either.

and speaking of trouble: tonight, night pads into the student living quarters like a predator — a threat, not its usual refuge. the same question prowls on everybody's mind; he can't escape its murmurs no matter how he avoids the gossiping hoards: that piercing note; will they hear it again? will it be her this time? or them? he'd dismiss it as the usual supernatural nonsense that the most idle of his classmates seem to favor most, if not for the absence of his sparring partner today during sword drills. they'd been working long enough for him to doubt them as the type to skip training, and when he'd heard the rumors later . . .

to that end, perhaps it shouldn't be surprising to see someone else still skulking around when he returns from an additional late-night session. people were restless, after all, and many of them too nervous to sleep. but brows arch faintly with surprise when he catches who it is — then drop again at the realization that she looked like she was heading out, rather than going in. any other time and he wouldn't care, but— . . . fine. if she wasn't just some annoying girl chasing noble coattails, then what was she about to break curfew for?

a few more strides bring him within earshot without having to shout, fortunately making it close before she dashes off. "what are you doing," he cuts sharply, assessing her dress and belongings in the same breath — definitely not just taking a quick trip down the hall. "it's late. and dangerous. haven't you heard what's going on?"

+ ╱　@encantresse

　tailor of roses and their thorns.

　　　　　　　　　 　　❪　m. recovery　/　sword point　❫

#﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + ╱ TAILOR OF ROSES AND THEIR THORNS . #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + ╱ TO KNOW LIGHTNING LIKE HEARTBREAK ‣ dorothea . #encantresse #post-b support as promisedddd #i'm so excited for this hahaha lets geeauuuxx #i want to see the doro history arc while we fuck w some weird ass magic #and sociopolitical intrigue KJNSKJGB #tbh actually i think this could set up for a comparison / look at their views in the same way the other prompt idea would #but just less overt maybe.... ANYWAY

[wolfhednn]

bitter saltwater floods his mouth and nose; in an instant, everything is brine and chaos. waves crashing over the port side drenching him through and threatening to drag him over. felix scrambles, survival instinct rearing, clawing at splintered deck and anything in reach to fight that dizzying grip of gravity, breathes a sigh of relief only when the hull rights itself with a groaning scream and he finds his back to a crate of cannon ammunition that'd slammed into the railing.

others hadn't been lucky. the shouts of people churning far below are too soon drowned and silenced, and he puts aside the iron tang of regret only by clenching his jaw enough to ache. too close. that'd nearly been him.

"you there!" a teal-cloaked figure rushes by amid the swarming deck which seconds ago had been calm, gesturing to him. "the ledge is dangerous."

of course the ledge is dangerous, he wants to snap back. did he think he was sitting here sunbathing?! but felix lurches to his feet and follows as well as balance will allow, suspecting the other lion had something in mind. this better be worth it.

"you better make this quick." an assembly of three. eyes quickly assess the last one as hands wring the worst of the water from his clothes — a professor, of what he can't recall right now. then the teal man starts talking, and for some reason, it's not orders yet. with every word, impatience engraves its lines deeper on felix's face, deepening further at the commotion of the ship's crew rushing back and forth and belowdeck around them. they were working frantically to secure lines and the ship's vital systems. the three of them can't afford to just stand around.

then finally, orders. "you there with the sword." brow cocks. hold the front lines. fine. and the professor would support him.

there isn't time to question.

"can you man a cannon." statement-question directs sharply to the professor as their teal leader runs off, and felix takes the first strides back toward the cannons. blank is the stare that returns it; he huffs. "fine. then stay out of the way."

the ledge is dangerous. and here he was at it again. he supposes to some people, this could be called insanity. hah. left hand steadying the crate, the studies the three types of ammunition, turning earlier educational curiosity now to practical use — and despite the peril, feels his blood race. who thought he'd get the chance to try it so soon? this one, with spines lining the shell to detonate after impact, was the one designed for maximum damage to enemy warships. let's see how it fares against sea beasts.

FELIX critically hits CALAMITOUS AQUASHADE with WILD SHOT ( 18 ). CALAMITOUS AQUASHADE 16/20HP**. ( Roll: 1, 1 → FACTION: THE PIRATES takes collateral damage! )

a roar explodes straight in his ears, and he staggers back from the force — but, bracing himself against the railing as sea and sky rock once more, he doesn't miss the umbrella-like bloom of purple-red beneath water's churning surface. "it's been hit!" he shouts to no one in particular, his own voice muffled to the ringing in his ears — and hurriedly reaches for the next cannonball, oblivious to the shrapnel that'd torn open the bow of the nearby pirate's ship.

CALAMITOUS AQUASHADE misses FELIX with FORCEFUL BITE ( -4 ) FELIX 10/10HP.

—only to yank himself back when a thrashing tentacle swings too close to his face, heart nearly stopping. was that a beak on the end of it? and up close now, the rows of darkly-tipped barbs lining its full length are keenly visible, each the length of a roc's talon. easily capable of shredding wood and iron, much less human skin.

"damn it." have to be careful.

+ ╱　next ,　@fiberflxwer or @ventusanimae

✶ — › 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐊𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏 ‹ — ✶

MISSION BOARD: SHOWCASE ✧˚ · . HEAVY ARMOR +1

#﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + ╱ BESET BY THE MURKY DEEP . #solarsbrace #fiberflxwer #ventusanimae #ah my god encounter posts are always so long :joy: #insert probably false promise here that they'll get shorter

[wolfhednn]

leave it to the old man to twist one more thing out of him in the name of noblesse oblige before he could get out from the under the suffocating shadow of fraldarius policies. he knows it's needed; he knows its their family's responsibility; he knows it'll probably be his someday unless something drastic happens first.

but that doesn't change that he's tired of it. the last year has been nothing but more of this — hearing about that senile fool's trips to the capital, deliberating pointlessly on mandates and projects that would make an immediate difference, and when he was around, he spent more time worrying about how prince dimitri was doing at the academy than running his territory.

now when disaster threatens to knock at their borders, he decides to send someone else to take care of it.

. . . baleful eyes fix on the crumbling ruin of conand tower; crossed arms and a jagged expression deter most of the other men from coming within speaking distance. that was fine with him. he'd heard the reports, but that didn't change the importance of seeing the extent of the damage with his own eyes; even if he might not be an architect or a historian, but the more they knew, the better chance there was someone out there with some hope of restoring it back to decency.

just as he's considering looking around for someone to inform that he's going in, a call ripples out across the hillside from further down. multiple heads turn to locate its source, including his — eventually landing on a shock of red trying to make its way up. "that might be the church contact who's supposed to arrive today," the site manager offers, stepping up behind him with a look. one it isn't hard to guess the meaning of.

a sharp huff. "all right, i'll go."

since the mess with the slashes in the sky had mysteriously cleared up, the central church had been eager to be helpful around faerghus, sending supplies and teams out for rehabilitation. not that it wasn't appreciated — and expected, given their relationship — but if the leadership here couldn't even do their jobs properly, any amount of help would just go to waste.

whatever, not his problem. sharp eyes snap up and down the redhaired professor, taking in appearance, mannerism, and apparent ability. that sack she was lugging didn't look light, so she clearly had some strength, but was she it? "you're from the monastery, right? thought they'd be sending more than one person and a bag." without asking, he reaches for the latter with his good hand to relieve her. "i'll take it from here."

Hey it's your Uber professor here.. Am outside

bl-mission task: recovery (heavy armor +1)

#﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + ╱ HEY IT'S YOUR UBER PROFESSOR HERE . #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + ╱ DEATH IS CLOSE BUT SO IS LIFE ‣ anna . #profitsabode #excited to interact with anna! :carrotpray: #as always sorry for this grumpy gus

[wolfhednn]

over the course of the week, he'd watched him closely. at first, it'd just been because they were assigned to work together, and he wanted to get an idea of just how much extra weight he'd have to pull. the foreign prince had seemed lackadaisical at first — even lazy, always spending his time chatting instead of doing anything useful. but unlike sylvain, it turned out he actually put in some work now and then, and he wasn't half bad with a bow.

if anyone else had approached him in the same way, he'd turn them away without thinking. but maybe it's the resemblance to that layabout, or, now that he thinks about it, an even closer resemblance to someone else he can't quite put his finger on . . .

' a couple of somethings? ' irritation makes itself known in the arch of one brow, but he folds his arms ( left one under the right ) and decides to listen. for now.

"i am," comes the firm reply with a matter-of-fact gesture. "i should have been done a long time ago." but had stayed because . . . that didn't matter. "none of the men here have what it takes to become a soldier. they should just give up on knighthood." one step turns his profile sidelong to fogado, and he returns his focus to securing his belongings. for the other to come up to him about this now could only mean one thing, anticipated on a retort sharp with bitter finality: "i won't stay a second longer."

last fastenings cinch around leather as if in emphasis, and he lifts the case of clothing into his good hand, head turning to scan the darkness of the murky road ahead. if he leaves in the morning before sunrise and rides without stop, he should have plenty of daylight to make it comfortably to the next town. "i'm going to the stables. if you have to keep bothering me, you'll need to follow." without further ado, the crunch of bootsteps in the gravel punctuates his departure.

　hypocrisies that made you.

　　　　　　 　　　 　　❪　m. recovery　/　any point　❫

#﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + ╱ HYPOCRISIES THAT MADE YOU . #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + ╱ JACKAL IN PURSUIT OF THE SUN ‣ fogado . #losojosdecupido #he might not be able to escape destiny but hes sure gonna try :intense_crying: #i forgot how hard he is to interact w bc he spends 90% of interactions trying to get out of them :sob: #im so sorry LAKSJDGNK

[wolfhednn]

Thought, learning and intellect headcanon asks for muses

[MENTAL CHATTER] Does your character have an ongoing inner monologue, or do they more frequently think wordlessly/in abstract?

[ENTANGLED] Does your muse experience synaesthesia? (eg. tasting sounds, or seeing colours in music) If yes, does this have any effect on their creativity or understanding of certain senses?

[ALOUD] Does your character subvocalise (sound out words in their head) when reading silently to themselves, or no? When reading fiction, do they “hear” individual voices for each speaking character?

[WPM] How quickly can your character type, read or write?

[MOTHER TONGUE] For bilingual muses: does your character think in one particular language more than another? Are there certain topics or themes that they may be more likely to switch to another?

[FOCUS] How well can your muse focus on their own thinking or study in the presence of distracting background stimuli (loud environments, background chatter, visual clutter…)

[OFF TRACK] Is your muse prone to letting their mind wander? To their detriment?

[INTEREST] Does your muse find it hard to learn about or remember details of subjects that don’t captivate their personal interest? Even if they might be useful or advantageous to know?

[AHAH!] Is your muse good at recognising patterns and putting information together to recognise correlations or solutions quickly? Or do they need others to spell things out to them?

[SEEING RED] How easily is your muse’s judgement or perception swayed by their emotions and state of mind? Are they most always cool and level-headed, or are they prone to rashness or switching stances quickly?

[JUMP THE GUN] What biases does your muse hold that impact how they perceive the world or choose to take in new information? Do their personal blindspots and preconceptions lead them to errors in judgement?

[RECALIBRATE] How frequently does your muse evaluate their own ways of thinking? Have they little self-insight/feel set in their minds for better or worse, or are they constantly questioning their own outlook? To the point of self-doubt, even?

[SPLIT SECOND] How decisive is your muse? How confident do they need to feel about the outcome of their actions, or how much pre-thinking must they do before they feel they can act? Do they trust in their own decisions?

[FOREIGN] How does your muse fare when presented with ideas, concepts or experiences that feel far outside their usual norm? How hostile, sceptical or inquisitive might they be when encountering new viewpoints?

[STUDENT] Does your character enjoy learning for learning’s sake, or do they only seek out knowledge when they specifically need to?

[NOTES] How does your muse track their ideas and thoughts, or things they need to remember? Do they keep written or voice notes, or do they just think/hope that they’ll be able to recall what they need later?

[SELF ANALYSIS] How intelligent does your muse BELIEVE they are, versus how do they actually stack up next to others? What are the personal strengths and weaknesses of their minds and outlooks, compared to those of the people around them?

#﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + / DISLIKES ∶ LEVITY . #hoarding hcs again :carrotpray: #ive talked about some of these before but it'd be good to jiggle the noggin about the Boy again

[wolfhednn]

idleness breeds vanity and ego, all of it ending in foolishness. months ago, these makeshift soldiers had something to fight for, enemies in front of their eyes, a threat that knocked on their front doors. they'd taken up weapons out of necessity, because doing something was better than waiting for someone else to take advantage of you first. he might not've supported handing out weapons to every sloppily-trained civilian back then, but at least faerghus fared better than the empire and the alliance in that regard. if there was anything people in the kingdom were prepared for, it was that one day they'd wake up to something worth fighting for.

but now? where did it all go?

now, those same people were listless. the lives they used to lead — where they'd been perfectly happy all these years — were no longer interesting to them, no longer fulfilling. and why?

the why was exactly what bothered him. it'd been palpable from the first day he'd stepped inside the sorry excuse for a training ground and found himself swarmed by overeager townsfolk. they'd been all too happy to flatter him, going on and on about how they wanted to be renowned just like his father, wanted to fight for their country just like his brother. he'd wanted to retch.

he'd stomached it for a week. that was a week longer than he should have. by the end of it, half of them had abandoned the idea and reconciled themselves to their boring lives — and those were the smarter ones. the other half were like pests, tenacious herd animals ruining the crop in their gluttonous frenzy. in the morning, he'll leave. he'll go back to garreg mach, tell the church that this had all been a load of bunk, and go back to what he did best: improving himself, not wasting his time on a hive of animals.

turning around from notifying the innkeeper of his intentions, he catches a figure approaching from the steps leading to the second floor. . . . fogado, if he recalls. a prince of some distant country and fellow student who'd been leading the exercises with him. a sharp motion shifts a pack of belongings higher on one shoulder, and his frown deepens as the other seems to approach him directly. "you look like you have something to say."

+ ╱　@losojos-decupido

　hypocrisies that made you.

　　　　　　 　　　 　　❪　m. recovery　/　any point　❫

#﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + ╱ HYPOCRISIES THAT MADE YOU . #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + ╱ JACKAL IN PURSUIT OF THE SUN ‣ fogado . #losojosdecupido #i thought this was going to be a shorter starter but underestimated the extent of felix's venting #so anyway good luck fogado have this bristling cat

[wolfhednn]

kindling had finally ignited on the eve of judgement day, swallowing a whole city in its conflagration. bodies thundered through escuchon's storied, wide stone streets, swarmed around centuries-old monuments, flowing madly in a sea fire of torch and lantern light threatening to burst at the seams, the glinting black iron of hammers and blades. the signature colorful facades of escuchon's buildings blend now in the single, angry palette of flickering orange amid shouts and screams, pyres of smoke-fire rising in isolated funnels from district to district where the riot had spun out of hand.

in the ocean of crushing momentum, he feels like a single stick of driftwood cast into the rapids, fighting against a raging current to get anywhere. fortunately, most of the fools are too busy surging blindly along to pay much attention to who ducks among them. at least it makes his job easier.

he bursts through the doorway of a ground floor residence whose top level has caught fire from a neighboring structure, ignores the clipped scream of the man huddled with his family in a corner behind a makeshift barricade of blankets and furniture. "get up! you need to get out of here!" the five cower further, staring at him with wide eyes struggling to comprehend in their panic. like blind sheep scared stiff, they huddle behind some poor excuse for safety, waiting for disaster to find them.

"did you hear me? you can't stay here." only after beginning to drag some of the chairs and tarps out of the way and wasting more breath repeating himself does understanding look like it starts to dawn on the youngest son first.

"papa, can we go? i don't like it . . . "

then the woman as she struggles to rise. "are you lord fraldarius' son? is he here?"

the mention of the old man ignites a spark of annoyance at his uselessness. of course he's missing at a time like this. "there's no time to explain. you have to get out. go through the back, run to the fountain, an—"

"death to the rats!! death to those dirty fucking rats!!!"

a passing mob. then a sudden splitting crack heralds a wooden beam's collapse, and felix throws himself forward with a loud curse as screams and vibration consume the ground floor space. all this over some robbers. faerghus really was out of control. when he pushes himself to his feet again and looks back, the way he'd come in is now blocked off, and billowing heat streams in from the new hole overhead, indicative of rapidly-spreading flame. damn it. "is there another way out??"

+ ╱　@blaiddllodi

　nothing but ashes.

　　　　　　　　　 　　　❪　m. recovery　/　riot　❫

#﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + ╱ NOTHING BUT ASHES . #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + ╱ BLOOD SACRIFICE OF THE LAMB HEARTED ‣ dimitri . #blaiddllodi #i hope you dont mind me bringing in old hcs ksjng #i did way too much worldbuilding on fraldarius territory back in the day #escuchon was a major city i hc'd second only to the capital and arianrhod #about an hour south ish of the fraldarius estate along the river which i named claíomh #orz sorry lsjngakjdg

[wolfhednn]

#WOLFHEDNN .　　——　　+ /　felix hugo fraldarius , blue lions student

this is a temporary pinned post until i get his permanent doss up. since felix is a returning muse from a long time ago, there's a couple things that are important to his characterization that i'm carrying over, but that aren't canon.

NOTES.

ON TIMELINE.　felix was enrolled at the academy in irl years 2019-2020, and he retains memory of arcadia and lock&key. narratively, he was recalled afterwards to help rodrigue with increasingly unstable fraldarius territory, which will explain his absence since. he will have knowledge of any events that've happened across mission boards, etc. that affected faerghus lands, such as the paranoia going on across fodlan pre-AO, etc. like the other toa muses, he'll also be aware of inconsistencies, but won't know why ( the fact the past year was pasithee's bubble illusion, etc. ) tl;dr: he'll have experienced toa lore since 2020 peripherally from fraldarius lands, but not directly involved. 　

for felix, it has only been about a year since he left. i'm more or less doing this to justify why he isn't 21-22 if i'm writing him as being around all this time. i'm making this make sense because between the time loops, illusion bubbles, and other time/space-bending that happens in toa lore, there being these other blips or glitches in passage of time doesn't feel impossible. 　

because of his experience with the timeloop after lock&key, felix isn't completely unfamiliar with the idea that timey-wimey stuff seems to just happens sometimes. while he'll definitely be surprised and unsettled to hear that apparently 3+ years have passed for other people, it's not unprecedented. 　

ON THE THORON INCIDENT.　❪　the history : 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / portrayal　❫ the tl;dr here is just that i'm keeping the events from felix's accident that happened during his previous enrollment. though the muses that helped me shape the narrative at that time are no longer here, i'll still be keeping the same rough narrative. the relevant posts from when it was taking place are linked above if you're interested. the last link — ' portrayal ' — is the most important one as it details how the disability impacts him in present day. it'll come up as appropriate in posts, and you're free to note them as well.

#﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + / DAYLIGHT BREAKS WITHOUT WAR . #hoo that's out! now i can rub my hands together like littol fly #excited to be back in this old sweater again!

[wolfhednn]

flight of the bumblebee — & felix

houseofreglay​:

From somewhere to his left—or perhaps it was his right, or perhaps it was from behind; perhaps he was doing about the whole thing all wrong—someone (Felix, Pent thought after a second), for the pole from his hands with such a force that that in itself nearly sent him stumbling once again.

Were it a true enemy, Pent wanted to argue, fiddling with the knotted ends of the blindfold cinched at the base of his skull, that he would have immediately reached for his magic instead of faffing about with a glorified stick.

(There had been occasion when he found it necessary to take more extreme measures with a healing stave, but that was an entirely different balance in his hands all together… And, Pent supposed, the whole incident with the pies hadn’t happened in this edition of time quite yet… Part of him hoped it never would.)

As the light first glimpses of light returned to his vision, however, Pent noticed subtle changes in the things unseen… Once Felix had also closed his eyes, the cluster of students around them fell hush in anticipation, and as the practice lance reached the peak of the over-head wind up, there was a vibration in the air, and as if coordinate ahead of time, the students scattered.

It happened in slow motion: the piñata burst into a rain of colourful bits of thin paper and flecks of hardened paste, drifting down to the earth like blossom petals in an orchard, and in their wake… He heard it before he saw it.

Pent stared for as long as he was permitted. Which was a fraction of a second. Immediately, his hand reach out, grabbing a fistful of Felix’s uniform sleeve and pulled hard as he broke into a sprint. The blindfold that had been in his hand fluttered to the ground amidst the piñata shards, and above it all…

The swarm descended.

          much later, in retrospect, felix would piece everything together, turn over each fraction of a second in his new time in the infirmary and wonder how it had culminated in this. but in the moment, everything is a blur, further muddled by the darkness behind closed eyes. there is only, in the split second before impact, the sensation that something isn’t right, which comes back to him later in all its belated irony. paper mache shreds under the force as though little more than twigs; the spear pole slices as though it were bladed. simple. and he braces for the inevitable punishment — a stinging rain of rocks, or —

          what is that sound?

          something — a hand — latches into his sleeve, yanks hard enough nearly to pull him off his feet, and, eyes half open, he stumbles, garbled yell halfway out and robbed by a swift and electric jabbing sensation on his forearm, his hand —

          he finds he’s running before he knows quite how, or why, following the frantic bouncing lilac ponytail, the current of other crowded bodies, amidst the chaos of screams and crashes, pounding footsteps. like many others, they sprint for the narrow alley that connects the marketplace steps to the area of the monastery pond; he briefly registers up ahead some of the more desperate leaping into the water to escape, but their momentum takes them past it, over cobblestone, up another flight of stairs.

          it’s simultaneously an eternity and no more than an instant before it all finally slows down only once they and several others reach the side door of the dining hall. he’s not even sure if the insects have even pursued them this far, but still a small handful hurry to shut the doors behind them just in case. still stunned and mildly winded, he slumps against the wall, attention diverted from pent to the acrid, fiery burn under his skin in several places beginning to take the place of adrenaline. eyes fall to a collection of two, three of them on his arms, angry sting punctures and nascent swelling, and he muffles a curse under his breath.

          around them, the others are milling restlessly, wordless conversation, the sounds of a couple of them crying. dozens of other pairs of eyes stare. the sounds of commotion have summoned the kitchen staff who’ve emerged in alarm. he looks to the professor, still catching his breath. ❝ are you hurt? ❞

#houseofreglay #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + / FLIGHT OF THE BUMBLEBEE . #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + / AT THE TAIL END OF A PERENNIAL STAR ‣ pent . #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + / HAUNTING WITHIN SPEAR AND SHIELD ‣ lance +1 . #ty for your patience dude :pensive: #we can prob wind towards wrapping soonish?

[wolfhednn]

FURTIFICUS. — メ

seraphiia​:

     Furrowed brows and furtive glances. The occasional disgruntled mumbling. Celica can only describe the mood in the dining hall as tense when she arrives, cooks and volunteers clearly set on edge by something. But it’s hardly surprising, considering the string of odd incidents that had been occurring here as of late. No one still quite knows how or why the crabs had decided to incite a rebellion, but she was relieved to see the situation get back to some semblance of normalcy.

     Or so she thought. Celica had no idea why she had been called here, outside of being tasked to deal with an ‘issue’, but upon spotting Felix in the kitchens, she knows the situation must be more dire than what the higher ups had initially led her to believe. A man of his high caliber wouldn’t have been called upon otherwise. Before Celica can even open her mouth to question the situation, he hands her a parchment, her gaze immediately dipping to read over the case. A theft of pheasants, perpetrated by…

     “…Cats.” She half-reads, half-repeats. Her delivery is deadpan, words steeped in disbelief and skepticism. That’s… strange. It wasn’t as if the cats were lacking in food. There was plenty of fish around for them to eat, and even more people willing to feed them, so why go through the trouble of sneaking into the kitchens? “Stealing pheasant meat? How… odd.”

     She folds the parchment and slips it into her pocket, eyes lifting towards the empty hooks at the end of the line. Her gaze then drops to the doorway leading towards a back entrance, the very one cited in the report. Celica wastes no time in walking towards it, taking a few steps forward before turning back to Felix.

     “The head of staff last saw them vanishing around that doorway, yes? Let’s trace their steps, then. Surely they’ve left some sort of trail…” Celica pauses for a moment, her voice a bit more lighthearted as she adds, “Try not to fall behind, now. We mustn’t let those cat burglars out of our grasp.”

          he just lets it sink in. what’s there to say but allowing silence to speak for itself? the six empty hooks dangling at the end of the line seem to mock them — the whole kitchen establishment — with their absurdity. crabs; cats. hmph. what’s next? do they have to watch out for marauding crows flying in through the windows? a pressure grows behind his eyes.

          the gentle crinkle of parchment is the sign they’re ready to go, and he follows footsteps to begin their search, marginally more content, at least, to turn his attentions towards solving this issue as quickly as possible than ruminating in it, even as one eyebrow initially arches at celica’s suggestion. trace the steps of cats? he’s about to ask if he’s ever tried to track a cat that doesn’t want to be found. on stone, no less. but a trail seems more plausible. those pheasants would have been formidable for a regular cat to tow by itself, and there has to have been other witnesses if that was the case.

          his companion’s cheery encouragement only pulls forth a grated sigh. ❝ what nonsense... ❞ but he stems the complaints for now and follows, gaze sweeping back and forth across the walkway, the steps, out to the sparkling monastery pond further below and the panels of the greenhouse peeking between the trees as though he might catch a glimpse of striped fur and four-legged thieves. ❝ let’s look for feathers, even blood. there’s hardly any wind. ❞ he nods to the staff and equipment stalls beside the fishing pond, the clusters of students reclining on the grass. ❝ and ask around. someone might have seen something. ❞

          for now, he’ll swallow the bitterness of knowing what kinds of looks they’ll invite with their questions.

          at the base of the steps, he spots something — a spotted fluff of down tumbling against the dust. but signs of a passing pheasant carcass, or just dandruff from an overhead bird? ❝ hello. ❞ he approaches a lone student studying on a nearby bench, who looks up from her books, then seems even more surprised when she realizes who it is. ❝ this might seem strange, but have you seen a band of cats pass through here? they’d have been dragging pheasant carcasses with them. ❞ try as he might, he doesn’t manage to meet her eyes at the last part, but at least she doesn’t ask questions.

          ❝ um... i don’t... think so? but i just got here a few minutes ago, so... maybe try asking the pond staff over there? ❞

#celestialbloom #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + / FURTIFICUS . #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + / HIGH PRIESTESS BY FIRE WAS BAPTISED ‣ celica . #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + / HE RECALLS RESILIENCE IN MERCURY ‣ gauntlet +1 . #detective felica are on this most furtastic case

[wolfhednn]

♕ — What does leading a ‘good’ life mean to your muse? Are they satisfied with the choices they make?

          +  /    LIFE PHILOSOPHY HC’S.  /  @houseofreglay

a strange look and ‘ why are you asking me this ’ would probably be his response to that if asked, ahaha. in real time, i’m not sure felix would have an answer for what a ‘ good life ’ means to him. i think at best, if he was pressed to answer, after considerable thought, he might eventually get back to you with something about living a life where you fulfill the values that are important to you, but on the whole, as i’ve mentioned before, felix doesn’t find it useful to philosophize.

for him, i think a good life would mean one where he’s able to protect and maintain the safety of those who matter to him, in whatever form that takes. ideally, it would be as a warrior on the battlefield, because that’s where he thrives most, but we also see a happy ending in his paired ending with ingrid, where he loses the ability to fight relatively early on but is able to be happy with that because he did so protecting someone he loved. so i don’t think it’s a far shot to say that he’d grow to be happy achieving that goal in other ways too if it came to it — politicially, financially, etc. this is part of the reason why i think he does grow more into his station as duke fraldarius with time and age, despite his distaste for positions of leadership, especially political ones.

i think felix is someone who’s satisfied with decisions he makes insofar that he’s well-adjusted enough to recognize that what’s done is done, and that his only option is to look forward and figure out where to go from here. he might not always be happy with everything he does, and there are certainly things he regrets ( deep down. deeeeep deep down. probably take 99% of them to the grave ), but he won’t spend more time than needed mulling them over or thinking about what he should have done differently. as he says himself, he has better things to worry about. he’s a firm believer in simply taking his past experiences and decisions with him as he keeps walking.

#﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + / HEAVEN REMEMBERS THE SILENT AND BRAVE . #houseofreglay #yeah i still have a couple of these...... #but iT'S FINE #thanks as always m!

[wolfhednn]

horsee, horse do.

cynthero​:

[ ... ]      she glances over her shoulder, waving felix down. “you get down too. he’s gonna be worried if you keep staring like that.” slowly, but surely, cynthia makes her over in a low squat to gently stroke the foal on its snout, then its mane until it was comfortable — “if you pick ‘em up the other way, they’ll just kick the heck outta ya. so, you’ve gotta do it like this.” one arm rests just below its shoulders and she tucks her opposite arm behind its back legs, mindful to not tuck the foal’s tail on the inside of her arm before cynthia lifts it with relative ease. wings flutter, feathers fly, but the foal hardly protests as she turns to face felix proper. “they’re delicate.”

      “they’re big and they’ll get scared you’ll drop 'em if you hold them that other way. and not only will they get hurt if you do drop them, but they’ll hurt you a heck of a lot too. you ever had your toes stomped on by a pegasus?” she shudders. “it’s not pretty!” she’ll spare him the recollection of her last such incident. she’d been young when the pegasus ranch still existed, but she remembered and learned enough between her childhood to that last year she spent in ylisse. but, she wasn’t so young to not remember the way her foot purpled and yellowed in the shape of a horse shoe. it’d been so bad that her caretakers didn’t even want to let her back.

      “but, you already knew that, i’m sure.”

      cynthia doesn’t move. she just smiles.

      “so, here, you can take him and i’ll be on my way since you can do this by yourself and don’t need my help at all, right?”

          bitten by the sting of his own fruitless endeavor, he reluctantly peels himself from the skittish creature, watching with a frown as it skelters several feet as though unused to its own self and at a loss of what to do. he’ll be the first to admit he’s never been skilled with animals, especially infant ones; like human kids, they’re frivolous and unpredictable, incomprehensible in their actions and the unique logic of children. unlike human kids, they don’t have the means to even try communicating in a way that makes sense. hand resting on hip, he watches sourly as cynthia pushes her way in — he’d said he didn’t need her help. a bitter retort sits poised on his tongue when she gestures for him to get down, but she quickly turns her attention back to the foal, and there’s no point.

          as is often the case around her, he finds he has little choice.

          but he does observe. for as much as she likes to hear herself chatter, she does appear to be winning the foal over slowly but surely. ( he won’t deny the salt has already been sprinkled in the wound, but he supposes a skill is a skill. )

          at least, until she turns back to him, colt bundled peacefully in arms, and predictably ruins it. vinegar seeps back into honey; that stupid faux-innocent smile irritates him. he shifts his weight, looking away with an aggravated sigh that manifests audibly. ❝ just take him over. i’ll get the other one. ❞

          he leaves before she can open her mouth again, whatever reluctant, unconscious truce he’d privately made with her swept away with the fresh reminder of why he kept his distance. he had never asked to be here, or to be paired with her; his family’s station had no bearing on his own personal experience with pegasi, so he’s not sure who thought this was a brilliant idea. the other colt he’d tethered earlier is fortunately still where he left it, so he pauses a couple steps away and appraises its gangly frame with dubious eye. she’d approached from the side... one arm had been under the hind legs, and the other...

          the creature snorts and keens quietly, skittering in a nervous prance, perhaps sensing his misgivings. ❝ stop. ❞ it doesn’t, of course. he sighs, arms dropping to his sides again, and strides forward. no point stalling. one arm here; the other— he nearly loses grip when the beast lurches just as he gets hooves off the ground, and he barely bites back a curse, clutching tighter. for some reason, that makes it worse, and the more it fights, the harder this is. the stables aren’t that far, at least. jaw clenched, he staggers his way over as quickly as possible, foregoing niceties and ignoring any stares the scene invites. the last time there had been this much feather and down flying into his face, he had been wrangling farm animals in a muddy downpour. and somehow, that seemed preferable by comparison.

#cynthero #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + / HORSEE¸ HORSE DO . #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + / A LOSING WAR BETWEEN YOU AND GRAVITY ‣ cynthia . #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + / SHADOW OF THE NORTH STAR ‣ flying +1 . #ignore the timestamp on this reply time is meaningless :pensive: #felix ur bitch mouth is at least partially to blame for this #felix: >:C

[wolfhednn]

some stuff from twitter

#﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + / THE COLDER DAWN AFTER A SNOWSTORM ‣ felix . #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + / BLOOD SACRIFICE OF THE LAMB HEARTED ‣ dimitri . #he rawr. fierce. stabby.

[wolfhednn]

IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER. — メ

          beltstrap loops thread and cinches tight with leather’s soft crackle; sword slides securely through — heel of his palm pushes to test; it holds firm. left arm crosses over chest, other arm pulling it close; tendons pull, reliving muscles groan; he extends the fingers of his left hand as wide and far as they will go, then curls them, one at a time at the second knucke to form a tiger’s fist that trembles as he holds it... then releases. a sigh escapes his lips, and he drops the hand to the wo dao’s hilt, takes a moment to appreciate the tangibility of its grooves against his fingertips when he wraps his fingers around it, to be thankful for the strength in his grip today that could pull the blade from its scabbard, maybe even hold it briefly upright without the support of his right arm. not for long, though. not like before.

          still, there’s improvement. the healers say it’s incredible, though none of them believe his story anymore. it’s taken a month, but he’s gotten used to that. he’s the only witness to what he had gone through, now.

          but that, too, he thinks with some bitterness, is familiar.

          garland moon arrived a few days ago in a flurry of high alpine winds, scattering the leaves of vibrant treetops in a fearsome storm that’d persisted most of the week but left the skies all the clearer for it. an unbroken swath of blinding celeste, bright and alluring, beckons from beyond the town gates, and nature blooms with renewed vigor in the wake of the downpour. blown down branches and greenery still litter the wooded mountain trails encircling garreg mach, christening the area in a newly forested look.

          the poor weather had delayed their start, and he wonders if the monster the blacksmith named has moved on by now; the ones that made their nests nearby didn’t tend to stick around for long if they were clever enough. he supposes they’ll find out soon enough.

          ❝ here. ❞ between two trees that don’t initially seem to stand out amidst the endless sea of thousands, an extended stretch of shadow beneath the noonday sun suggests further secrets. ❝ this is where the man claims he saw it skulking around. ❞ he jerks his chin at the well-concealed hollow; judging by its shape, a forest grotto likely waits past it — the creature’s den, no doubt. but he hasn’t spotted any fresh tracks nearby, nor bones or other usual signs of monster habitation. ( part of him, kept well-concealed, is disappointed; when the blacksmith had mentioned a master sword, one he’d spent the better part of his lifetime crafting, he’ll admit it’d caught his attention. but it seems they’ve lost their chance. ) ❝ maybe the beast left it behind. ❞ a last-ditch hope he leaves suspended and rhetorical as he turns to consider the entryway once more.

      +    //    @futuresking

#futuresking #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + / IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER . #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + / HIEROMANCY FOR BLUE AND BROKEN STEEL ‣ lucina . #﹙ ˙ ˖ × ﹚ + / MIND AND BODY WITH NO REMAINDER ‣ sword +1 . #thanks for waiting a touch! apologies for taking a bit #i decided to take us a bit closer to the action at the end there #just to cut down on the walking there and the etc.