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Entry tags:
- !event,
- arknights: gavial,
- baroque: koriel xii (dextera),
- bastard!!: dark schneider,
- boy's abyss: gen minegishi,
- expanse (the): amos burton,
- fire emblem: byleth eisner,
- fire emblem: claude von riegan,
- fire emblem: dimitri a. blaiddyd,
- fire emblem: yuri leclerc,
- granblue fantasy: eustace,
- jinba: hayame,
- legend of zelda (the): midna,
- locked tomb (the): john gaius,
- oc: liem talbott,
- star wars: cassian andor,
- star wars: jyn erso,
- vampire hunter d: d
Toxic Love: The Exalt Oracle
NOTHING GOES OFF WITHOUT A HITCH
You feel it, the moment that the Exalt oracle opens its eyes, like something that rips through your body from head to toe, something that feel like fire, wild. It sears into your veins, like acid and fire, something that triggers something that makes you want to run, or perhaps turn and face something head on. Before you can find what sets you off – if you could find it. Bearers know what this sensation is, it is different but the same at its core. The emotions, the feelings it sparks are different – but in the end, you know it for what it is: An Oracle.
Kenos groans from the awakening, like a part of a whole sparks to life, and though you do not know what it is that they want yet, you understand and know their existence down to your core. That feeling to attack or defend, perhaps even flee, does not leave you, but instead it fills your veins, you feel it thrumming, pulsing, like the beat of a heart – if one has one. With the sense of awakening, bearers know the shape of what comes next, they will be asked to act, to do. You do not know how it will happen, or what the Exalt will ask of you, but the knowledge that it will happen is borne from experience, not from the Oracle itself.
As you begin to move, to… look, you are not long for this day, it clouds your mind, a hazy, drowsy feeling takes over, the encroaching dark that threatens to swarm, crowding from the sides, taking over your vision – until… it fully takes over, and Bearers are put into a deep slumber.
When bearers awaken, it’s difficult to make sense of what your sleepy eyes see. Structures begin to swim into view, and they like tall figures looking down upon you. It’s difficult to tell what they are at first, but as you wake up, you begin to see, they are not people, or creatures, but long spore-like stalks. Some have ribbed overgrowths that you can see, and some end in growths that ripple and hang over, but have no “cap”. They tower over the bearers, like towering spires and buildings, on all sides, as if they were trapped in a ring of them. As bearers look around them they will notice tall green spires around them as well, and it takes a moment for things to really settle in. Mushrooms. Blades of grass. The springy moss about them is almost as tall as they are, low to the ground. There are pebbles that appear as boulders, and the thunderous steps nearby indicate an insect or arachnid walking by, far larger than you. There is a stillness to this space, like a held breath, and as the bearers awake, and regard one another, and then to the center of the circle is – a small effigy in the center.
It is here, the Exalt Oracle, and you feel compelled to regard it, before you are given a pang down to your core. It compels you – pleads, asks, begs, and demands, all in one – for what it wishes for. Precious mementos and precious items that they are missing. They have been lost, and they are somewhere within the Liosachán. It beseeches the bearers to return its items, and begs they be returned here to the circle. There are no words, but there is a pleading sensation, a feeling that these items are treasured by this Oracle.
You feel at your sides, your pockets, and find one item on your person, a weapon, a companion, whatever it is you would bring with you to the conflict, shrunk down to a tiny size with you.
Stay steadfast, bearers, and capture theflag Oracle!
Kenos groans from the awakening, like a part of a whole sparks to life, and though you do not know what it is that they want yet, you understand and know their existence down to your core. That feeling to attack or defend, perhaps even flee, does not leave you, but instead it fills your veins, you feel it thrumming, pulsing, like the beat of a heart – if one has one. With the sense of awakening, bearers know the shape of what comes next, they will be asked to act, to do. You do not know how it will happen, or what the Exalt will ask of you, but the knowledge that it will happen is borne from experience, not from the Oracle itself.
As you begin to move, to… look, you are not long for this day, it clouds your mind, a hazy, drowsy feeling takes over, the encroaching dark that threatens to swarm, crowding from the sides, taking over your vision – until… it fully takes over, and Bearers are put into a deep slumber.
When bearers awaken, it’s difficult to make sense of what your sleepy eyes see. Structures begin to swim into view, and they like tall figures looking down upon you. It’s difficult to tell what they are at first, but as you wake up, you begin to see, they are not people, or creatures, but long spore-like stalks. Some have ribbed overgrowths that you can see, and some end in growths that ripple and hang over, but have no “cap”. They tower over the bearers, like towering spires and buildings, on all sides, as if they were trapped in a ring of them. As bearers look around them they will notice tall green spires around them as well, and it takes a moment for things to really settle in. Mushrooms. Blades of grass. The springy moss about them is almost as tall as they are, low to the ground. There are pebbles that appear as boulders, and the thunderous steps nearby indicate an insect or arachnid walking by, far larger than you. There is a stillness to this space, like a held breath, and as the bearers awake, and regard one another, and then to the center of the circle is – a small effigy in the center.
It is here, the Exalt Oracle, and you feel compelled to regard it, before you are given a pang down to your core. It compels you – pleads, asks, begs, and demands, all in one – for what it wishes for. Precious mementos and precious items that they are missing. They have been lost, and they are somewhere within the Liosachán. It beseeches the bearers to return its items, and begs they be returned here to the circle. There are no words, but there is a pleading sensation, a feeling that these items are treasured by this Oracle.
You feel at your sides, your pockets, and find one item on your person, a weapon, a companion, whatever it is you would bring with you to the conflict, shrunk down to a tiny size with you.
Stay steadfast, bearers, and capture the
SURVIVAL OF THE SMALLEST ( DAYS 1 - 5 )
Unlike the still, stale apocalypse that had been the setting of the Iconoclast Oracle, the greenhouse is lush and vibrant with activity.
The Effigy present within yearns to be reunited with what belongs to it, fixated upon the five items lost within the greenhouse. The swell of its longing fills all Shardbearers, urging them to take action, claim the items and present all five to it to attain victory for that Faction.
Over a period of ten days, Shardbearers of both factions will have to navigate environmental dangers, and the normal procession of time, as the greenhouse is going about its daily routine. Workers plod around like towering goliaths, weeding and watering and pruning the greenhouse's contents. The Liosachán's native population of fae begin to take notice of the newcomers in their midst, emerging from grassy mounds hidden in the natural landscape to spy and pry about the newness surrounding them.
For Shardbearers demonstrating particular selflessness, favoring the protection and defense of another, the Effigy responds warmly from the third day onward — rewarding them with a sign of their dutiful nature towards others in the form of fairy wings, the form of which are unique to the Shardbearer themselves.
DAY FOUR. The sudden thunderous sound of a storm begins. No, not a storm, the tumble and crash of water pouring down upon the greenhouse — the workers of the Liosachán perform their routines faithfully, after all. In watering the garden, the danger of the environment threatens to overtake Shardbearers and their work alike. Drops of water fall, their size equal or larger than even the tallest of characters, and trickles of water muddy the ground in the form of raging rapids.
The security of Meridian and Zenith's camps is even called into question, because as simple as the act of watering a garden is, it is a nightmarish situation for such itty bitty Bearers to be in!
DAY FIVE. By day five, the fae of the Liosachán no longer lurk and linger in the corner of one's eye. They make themselves known, having prepared a banquet below one of the mushrooms, within sight of the Effigy. A table draped in spider-silk lace awaits any Bearer who comes near enough, the sagging piece of driftwood polished to a gleam with golden sap, leaving it waterproofed and pretty to behold. A handful of corks serve as seating, with most of the fae draping themselves across scraps of cotton as though they are simply at a picnic.
They invitingly wave to Shardbearers, chattering brightly in their foreign, lilting tongue, waving tiny sandwiches and little clay pots full of jams and honeys, brandishing sugared berries that they bite into with gusto, staining their arms and faces in swathes of blue and red. They clearly are welcoming to whomever comes upon them, urging them to avail themselves to the bounty they have prepared. Perhaps some characters know better than to eat the food of the fae, recalling legends and lore about the mystical properties and implicit bargains made in becoming a guest. Perhaps some have no idea, and are simply hungry enough to dig in!
The Effigy present within yearns to be reunited with what belongs to it, fixated upon the five items lost within the greenhouse. The swell of its longing fills all Shardbearers, urging them to take action, claim the items and present all five to it to attain victory for that Faction.
Over a period of ten days, Shardbearers of both factions will have to navigate environmental dangers, and the normal procession of time, as the greenhouse is going about its daily routine. Workers plod around like towering goliaths, weeding and watering and pruning the greenhouse's contents. The Liosachán's native population of fae begin to take notice of the newcomers in their midst, emerging from grassy mounds hidden in the natural landscape to spy and pry about the newness surrounding them.
Naturally curious, and equally dangerous, the fae of the Liosachán are Highstorm natives. They range in cool coloration, from soft violet-greys to deep stormy blues, and wear clothes fashioned from of goods pilfered from the pockets of workers, dropped on the ground or handcrafted from the environment itself. Wielding bits of copper tightly wound into blades and spears, they are a ferocious and cunning little people who seek to trick, trap and toy with Shardbearers. Direct violence is anathema to them, but violence that happens as a result of falling to one of their ploys is a badge of honor.DAY ONE - THREE. The Effigy initially urges Shardbearers to build bases of operation for defense and practicality, as surviving ten days without supporting one another is a surefire way to meet a grisly, tiny little end. Resources must be gathered: gather food and water, prepare shelter, establish unity and organization and prepare to set off into the wilds soon.
For Shardbearers demonstrating particular selflessness, favoring the protection and defense of another, the Effigy responds warmly from the third day onward — rewarding them with a sign of their dutiful nature towards others in the form of fairy wings, the form of which are unique to the Shardbearer themselves.
DAY FOUR. The sudden thunderous sound of a storm begins. No, not a storm, the tumble and crash of water pouring down upon the greenhouse — the workers of the Liosachán perform their routines faithfully, after all. In watering the garden, the danger of the environment threatens to overtake Shardbearers and their work alike. Drops of water fall, their size equal or larger than even the tallest of characters, and trickles of water muddy the ground in the form of raging rapids.
The security of Meridian and Zenith's camps is even called into question, because as simple as the act of watering a garden is, it is a nightmarish situation for such itty bitty Bearers to be in!
DAY FIVE. By day five, the fae of the Liosachán no longer lurk and linger in the corner of one's eye. They make themselves known, having prepared a banquet below one of the mushrooms, within sight of the Effigy. A table draped in spider-silk lace awaits any Bearer who comes near enough, the sagging piece of driftwood polished to a gleam with golden sap, leaving it waterproofed and pretty to behold. A handful of corks serve as seating, with most of the fae draping themselves across scraps of cotton as though they are simply at a picnic.
They invitingly wave to Shardbearers, chattering brightly in their foreign, lilting tongue, waving tiny sandwiches and little clay pots full of jams and honeys, brandishing sugared berries that they bite into with gusto, staining their arms and faces in swathes of blue and red. They clearly are welcoming to whomever comes upon them, urging them to avail themselves to the bounty they have prepared. Perhaps some characters know better than to eat the food of the fae, recalling legends and lore about the mystical properties and implicit bargains made in becoming a guest. Perhaps some have no idea, and are simply hungry enough to dig in!
UNWILLING TEN-ANTS ( DAYS SIX - EIGHT )
The scuttling, scrabbling feet of ants crawling over surfaces, winding their way through this grassy playground, has become normal. Their feet thunder as they go about their business, and it seems to be a normal cadence to life here in the underbrush, in the greenhouse. It is normal, and it is has become nothing to really concern oneself with. They are ants, after all, what do they do, but work? Endlessly, continuously.
That is, until the heavy, loud sounds of their feet draw closer to whatever place that the bearers have found to camp in. Whether solitary or as a group, these workers are no longer content to simply ignore the bearers, but they are a curiosity, perhaps even a bother. You have disrupted their lifestyle. The sleepy pattern of obtain food, return ot the hive, and back out again now has obstacles. Now there are not simply the fairies, who live their own lives and existences, a part of the ecosystem, but now there are these tiny bearers. Fighting, working together, arguing and disagreeing.
You are disruptive to their way of life.
The ants have come to collect on this due, and some bearers that are vulnerable, or perhaps merely caught, are taken away, your weight so light compared to the rest of their burdens that they carry. The strength of these ants is overwhelming, incredible at this size, and try as you might, if you are caught in their strong mandibles, you cannot escape. An ant, after all, carries 1000 times their weight with those powerful jaws. You, bearer, are nothing to them.
They squirrel away the bearers within their hill, a complicated network of tunnels, junctions, and large spaces. Down within, where the air becomes stifling, and stale. The ants guard their pray, and you get the distinct sense that they see you not as people, not even as enemies, but as prey. You will be food – perhaps to the eggs that are gathered within this room, where you can see the stirring of new life, just beneath the surface. You may not have very long to live, if these little larvae get their mouths on you.
Or perhaps, your friends will save you? Once it is discovered that bearers are missing, the trail of ant prints on the ground is apparent – they are not stealthy creatures – and the feet lead from the locations of several kidnapped bearers toward the grainy ant hill that lies not far away. The hill itself swarms with life, with worker ants all over the surface, scuttling about, looking for the next meal for te colony. Or perhaps for more bearers to bring back for their young.
It will be dangerous, bearers, to save your friends. Should you choose to do so, you will be kicking the anthill, and the ants will protect what is theirs. Even if they just took it. Those bearers belong to them, now! Rescuers will find not only your average worker ant, ready to defend, but winged male ants will attack from above, and deeper, within the nest, near where the bearers are kept, lies the strongest ant in the colony: The Queen. Staggeringly large, strong, and vicious, when her subjects begin dying. She will do everything in her power to protect her colony, and that includes killing bearers, if need be. Or trying, at least.
Good luck rescuing your friends, bearers!
That is, until the heavy, loud sounds of their feet draw closer to whatever place that the bearers have found to camp in. Whether solitary or as a group, these workers are no longer content to simply ignore the bearers, but they are a curiosity, perhaps even a bother. You have disrupted their lifestyle. The sleepy pattern of obtain food, return ot the hive, and back out again now has obstacles. Now there are not simply the fairies, who live their own lives and existences, a part of the ecosystem, but now there are these tiny bearers. Fighting, working together, arguing and disagreeing.
You are disruptive to their way of life.
The ants have come to collect on this due, and some bearers that are vulnerable, or perhaps merely caught, are taken away, your weight so light compared to the rest of their burdens that they carry. The strength of these ants is overwhelming, incredible at this size, and try as you might, if you are caught in their strong mandibles, you cannot escape. An ant, after all, carries 1000 times their weight with those powerful jaws. You, bearer, are nothing to them.
They squirrel away the bearers within their hill, a complicated network of tunnels, junctions, and large spaces. Down within, where the air becomes stifling, and stale. The ants guard their pray, and you get the distinct sense that they see you not as people, not even as enemies, but as prey. You will be food – perhaps to the eggs that are gathered within this room, where you can see the stirring of new life, just beneath the surface. You may not have very long to live, if these little larvae get their mouths on you.
Or perhaps, your friends will save you? Once it is discovered that bearers are missing, the trail of ant prints on the ground is apparent – they are not stealthy creatures – and the feet lead from the locations of several kidnapped bearers toward the grainy ant hill that lies not far away. The hill itself swarms with life, with worker ants all over the surface, scuttling about, looking for the next meal for te colony. Or perhaps for more bearers to bring back for their young.
It will be dangerous, bearers, to save your friends. Should you choose to do so, you will be kicking the anthill, and the ants will protect what is theirs. Even if they just took it. Those bearers belong to them, now! Rescuers will find not only your average worker ant, ready to defend, but winged male ants will attack from above, and deeper, within the nest, near where the bearers are kept, lies the strongest ant in the colony: The Queen. Staggeringly large, strong, and vicious, when her subjects begin dying. She will do everything in her power to protect her colony, and that includes killing bearers, if need be. Or trying, at least.
Good luck rescuing your friends, bearers!
IN SMALL PACKAGES ( DAYS NINE - TEN )
The day after the ant-pocalypse brings with it the brush of recognition — the Effigy has foreseen the likely victors, and calls to them to approach it once they have suitably recovered. It judges them the ones whom are most devoted to what binds them, loyal to memory and remembrance, and begins to clamor for them to restore to it what belongs rightfully. Thus begins a full day of resting, locating last-minute items, shoring up defenses and preparing for the sprint to the finish line.
Certainly your rivals will not allow you to simply walk to the Effigy unassailed and unchallenged.
Eat, rest, ensure your fellows are close and bolstered, for tomorrow begins the final rally.
On the morning of the tenth day, Meridian Shardbearers approach the Effigy with its five items in hand. In the midst of the mushroom ring, the Effigy stands as it had in the beginning — arms outstretched and back bowed skyward, gnarled fingers seeking contact with that which has been lost to it. It awaits, it strains, and even as it does, it requires one last test of ability. From the shadows of the towering mushrooms, the rasp of scale and soft hiss of a great beast descends upon the fae ring.
A gleaming garden snake, with glossy black and green stripes, blocks the way between approaching Shardbearers and the Effigy.
Between its bright eyes, pressed upon its brow is a scattering of brighter scales that appear to be in the shape of a delicate, three-leafed plant with spiraling patterns for leaves. It braces itself against the approach, and there is no doubt that to claim victory, the serpent must be subdued. Though Meridian approaches with victory in hand, they have not yet attained it — their rival faction and this beast remain in their way.
Certainly your rivals will not allow you to simply walk to the Effigy unassailed and unchallenged.
Eat, rest, ensure your fellows are close and bolstered, for tomorrow begins the final rally.
On the morning of the tenth day, Meridian Shardbearers approach the Effigy with its five items in hand. In the midst of the mushroom ring, the Effigy stands as it had in the beginning — arms outstretched and back bowed skyward, gnarled fingers seeking contact with that which has been lost to it. It awaits, it strains, and even as it does, it requires one last test of ability. From the shadows of the towering mushrooms, the rasp of scale and soft hiss of a great beast descends upon the fae ring.
A gleaming garden snake, with glossy black and green stripes, blocks the way between approaching Shardbearers and the Effigy.
Between its bright eyes, pressed upon its brow is a scattering of brighter scales that appear to be in the shape of a delicate, three-leafed plant with spiraling patterns for leaves. It braces itself against the approach, and there is no doubt that to claim victory, the serpent must be subdued. Though Meridian approaches with victory in hand, they have not yet attained it — their rival faction and this beast remain in their way.
MISSING LINKS ( THROUGHOUT )
As the Effigy desires to be reunited with what belongs to it, the swell of its longing stirs something more within all present Shardbearers.
With that foreign longing arrives knowledge: beyond the five items prized by the Effigy itself, there are other lost things within the greenhouse. Like a compass, each Shardbearer's mind points them in direction after direction, urging them to seek and explore. Implicitly, the thrum of comprehension fills your mind: these are things that do not belong to you, per se, but seek to have your hands ferry them home.
Amidst tangled brush, hidden under doffed acorn cap, tucked away in the belly of a fae's glittering den, lost in the depths of a puddle of spilled water that seems an insurmountable lake now, folded secretly into the petals of a towering, skyscraper-like flower, there are three additional items hidden within the tumultuous landscape that each Shardbearer feels a draw towards. Things that belong to someone else, eager to be reunited with them, but subject to whim.
Upon locating and retrieving one, the Shardbearer is filled with a sense of information — they know who this item belongs to, and they will know that they have a choice. Bonds are fragile things after all, and they exist to be enforced or abused, in order to advance a goal or to deepen a connection. How will you treat someone's precious bond? How will they treat yours?
With that foreign longing arrives knowledge: beyond the five items prized by the Effigy itself, there are other lost things within the greenhouse. Like a compass, each Shardbearer's mind points them in direction after direction, urging them to seek and explore. Implicitly, the thrum of comprehension fills your mind: these are things that do not belong to you, per se, but seek to have your hands ferry them home.
Amidst tangled brush, hidden under doffed acorn cap, tucked away in the belly of a fae's glittering den, lost in the depths of a puddle of spilled water that seems an insurmountable lake now, folded secretly into the petals of a towering, skyscraper-like flower, there are three additional items hidden within the tumultuous landscape that each Shardbearer feels a draw towards. Things that belong to someone else, eager to be reunited with them, but subject to whim.
Upon locating and retrieving one, the Shardbearer is filled with a sense of information — they know who this item belongs to, and they will know that they have a choice. Bonds are fragile things after all, and they exist to be enforced or abused, in order to advance a goal or to deepen a connection. How will you treat someone's precious bond? How will they treat yours?
NOTES
Here are some prompts to set the scene and foundation of the Exalt Oracle!
— The theme of this Oracle is a loose edition of capture the flag, where the Effigy's items can pass through multiple hands within the ten day allotment.
— For additional ideas and fun, it is known that several Shardbearers have concluded their efforts to fulfill the Greenwood Yards' sidequest request.
— All details of the Exalt Oracle can be found here, and questions for the mods can be submitted here.
— For additional ideas and fun, it is known that several Shardbearers have concluded their efforts to fulfill the Greenwood Yards' sidequest request.
— All details of the Exalt Oracle can be found here, and questions for the mods can be submitted here.
no subject
And she’d answered so many times that she doesn’t want to do it again, even in this damaged state where she’s somewhat numbly replying to anything just to focus on it. Byleth had told her his situation. She didn’t need a birthday.
She winces and curls in pathetically when Yuri peels the cloak away from the deepest remaining wound, unable to speak for a moment as her teeth grind and a pitiful whimper of pain is smothered in her taut throat before it can breathe air past her lips. Both sets of lungs, upper and lower, heave a bit unevenly, her tail quivers… but that pain begins to ease, too, and she can remember-]
Y… es…
[When she’d handed over that gift… His smile had been so… Her fingers curl uselessly with nothing to hold, tight and empty. If he were here… or another of her “friends”… even if it meant seeing her this weakened, perhaps… just perhaps…]
He said… He loved it…
[If she’d stopped there perhaps it would have simply been a sweet sentiment, but-]
I did not fail…
no subject
None of which he'll say in the moment, and may not occasion to say later. It's difficult to say, really. In the present, all that matfers is mending Hayame's injuries and making sure her next needs are met so she can regain her strength. The worst of her remaining wounds knits itself together more sluggishly under the pale glow of healing magic, but it does so just the same. ]
Better than not failing... That sounds like a rousing success.
[ His voice remains gentle, doing his best not to betray any particular emotion regarding the subject — but he is pleased for her. It was obvious she cared greatly for this fellow, going as far as she did to acknowledge his birthday properly, and he thinks it's rather sweet. Doubtless, Hayame would dismiss such a comment outright.
He thinks for a few moments of what to say next, hesitant to pry too much and very aware he should keep her talking still yet. ]
What did you wind up making? I recall you had concerns about what a warrior's hands could do.
no subject
His voice is gentle. His touch is soothing. Her initial rejection of his magic has waned in the face of her body's desperate need for it. Her wounds are closing, without even leaving scars. Her eyepatch is back properly on her face. Both sets of lungs are inhaling slower and more evenly, both hearts pounding less harshly.
It's almost tempting to let herself lapse into unconsciousness right there in the dirt. It was comfortable enough... she's slept on harder surfaces...
What did she make... ?]
I used... an arrow...
[Her quiver has been bloodied by her wounds, but the arrows were still there. Most of them were the same, made with a purple plumage from a bird that frequented Alenroux's fields, but just a few are of a finer make, fletched with strong, large sea eagle feathers.]
One of the arrows... my brother made for me...
[Something that meant much to her, that hailed from her world, and yet... something that a warrior could work with. Even she could remove an arrowhead and string it as a pendant on a sinew string.]
no subject
[ Further comment has to wait as Yuri leans around Hayame to check for further wounds. Slumped over as she is, her body might be obscuring more on one side, but he doesn't see fresh blood there. He's careful not to touch her directly, instead only reaching over to pass his magic along one more angry line when he spots it.
That should, he hopes, take care of the bleeding and pain that came with those wounds. He sits back once this is done, only to pause and consider the scrapes Hayame took in her fall. ]
...I know as a warrior you may not be concerned with them, but scrapes can get infected too, so I'll take care of those. [ He holds a hand up, as though he's taking an oath. ] You have my word I won't touch your face unless I must.
[ As had been the case with her eyepatch. That was something she simply needed. Yuri shuffled closer to her human torso, passing his healing magic over the scrapes and cuts he found there. Now that the greatest dangers have been addressed, these are simpler, quicker work. They must hurt just the same, and he has no doubt heavy bruising would form if untended. ]
So you have a brother...what's that like?
[ He does his best to keep her talking. Next, he knows, she needs warmth and when possible, more fluids to help her recover from what she's lost. ]
no subject
Just a bit longer. She can hold on, she's sure (less sure)-]
Yubari...
[Her brother. She meant to say something about Yubari. Even though she had admitted to those who guessed it in that game that her statement about having twelve half-siblings had been a lie, that she was actually aware of thirteen (or more), there was only one by the same dam, only one she considered her true sibling...
But what it's like? She knows her answer won't be right. It won't do it justice. It will just admit that she had treated the brother that believed in her poorly because she'd had to, she couldn't show weakness-
So the rest of the words, when they come out in just an unintelligible mumble... She doesn't try hard to say them clearer, trailing off into silence instead.
If Yubari were here...]
no subject
Chances are, she'll have no interest in later discussion, but that's to be expected. None of them are entitled to the particulars of each others' lives back home. Some matters are too personal or loaded to touch, for that matter. ]
We'll see our people again.
[ Yuri's voice is just as quiet and calm as before, but there's a firmness of belief there, one that comes of having faith. He doubts they've been told the truth. More than that, he suspects that those in charge are deceiving them. Even so, he has every intention of returning to those who depend on him — to the Abyssians, to his mother, and to the commoners who need a hand up in their harsh world.
Once the war is behind them, surely then... ]
Just got to get through this, yeah?
[ Yuri hasn't bothered telling anyone he harmonized with Meridian. Were it not for his use of magic, perhaps no one would even know the difference. He still doesn't remark upon it, even as he clears away the last of her scrapes and cuts with his healing magic. Once he finishes at last, the light glimmers away into nothing, and Yuri picks up his cloak. ]
You know, Byleth's about as able as me with healing, but I'd wager I'm more creative... A cleansing spell's got all kinds of handy applications.
[ He waits until he catches her eye before casting the spell, a small burst of glittering light that drains the blood from his cloak as though it were never there at all. Yuri scrutinizes it afterward, turning it about in his hands while his painted lips are drawn into a thoughtful frown. Then, once satisfied, he nods to himself. ]
See? Good as new.
[ With that said, he drapes the cloak back over her again. ]
Think you can get some water down?
no subject
So she just listens. She watches, through blurry, tired vision. This man had Harmonized, that much was obvious... she assumes with Meridian, because he is helping her, and what Zenith would when they are in the midst of a battle for the Oracle and she would have been an easy kill? Only a fool.
It's like a magic trick, his cloak. The blood that had stained it vanishes... good as new, and she is silent still, too weak to stop him from caring for her or push off the warm fabric he drapes over her form. She thinks... she will take the water, she will, she nods slowly...
But by the time he returns with it, she has lapsed into an exhausted sleep near the edge of unconsciousness, her body completely drained from healing so much so fast.
It won't be until hours later that she begins to stir again, hooves twitching slightly and facial expression scrunching together as if struggling to wake from a dream.]
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During the time he had, he busied himself with preparations for when she woke. After a hasty application of a cleansing spell to remove the blood from her clothing, Yuri hunted down what provisions he could. Ideally, she'd need foods that would help her to recover the blood she'd lost, for this was one thing spells simply couldn't provide for.
Well, perhaps blood magic could in theory, but experts in that field were scarce. It could be that none existed in Kenos.
So the next best measure would be meat. That too was out of the question, given their diminuitive size. For that matter, he had no idea whether Hayame ate meat. She'd mentioned rice and some bitter vegetable before... It was just as well that he knew alternatives.
Dandelion greens were, despite the disdain of nobles from the south, both edible and good for health. A few well-placed Cutting Gales were sufficient to gather a large amount of dandelion leaves, enough that he needed to make a return trip for these alone. Next was the greater challenge. Finding a fallen nut was easy, but cracking it...that required more explosive magic and gathering up the nut meat that littered the surrounding area thereafter.
By the time Hayame is coming to, Yuri has managed to bring everything back to the little hidden camp, stoke the fire, clean the foodstuffs he'd gathered, and is well underway with cooking bits of what he takes for walnut on a heated stone while he chops up greens. They may not have everything he'd like to have handy in this situation, but it should do. ]
...You back with us, Hayame? [ A beat. ] Turn of phrase. It's just me until Byleth's back from his patrols.
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Hayame drifts between unconsciousness and sleep, but finally nestles into the exhausted sleep of a woman (no, a warrior) who has not let herself rest since the Oracle had given them the conditions for victory. Injury after injury, strain after strain... but they could not lose thrice. She could not bear it.
But now she stirs. Hooves twitch and leave little curved furrows in the dirt, her fingers clench and seize as if grabbing for something, trying to hold it. Her nose wrinkles. Like this... she almost looks her age. A mere two decades or so of life, a young woman and not a cold soldier with an intense gaze and an unforgiving judgement. Her return to wakefulness is not sudden, she is too tired for it to be sudden even if she wished it to be...
Yet she wakes, finally. Just enough to try and tense, to look around and make sure she is still safe, still mostly alone, before she blearily murmurs,]
... You are cooking?
[Something smells good...]
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Average is the qualifier simply because Yuri has seen for himself how much Byleth can put away if he's got a mind to. ]
That's right. Regardless of how you come by it, healing takes a toll on a body, so you need to get your strength up.
[ Yuri has no fear that what he's preparing will go to waste, even if Hayame can't eat so much on her own. Thus far, he's filled acorn caps and fragments of shells from the nuts he'd cracked earlier as his impromptu dishes. What he and Byleth had for themselves proved insufficient for present needs. ]
You've got good timing; it's almost ready.
[ At this time he turns, nudging an acorn cap full of clear water closer to her side. He still has some small mushrooms to cut up for her salad, but already, the makeshift dishes within arm's reach are piled high with decent portions. Despite their limitations, a small set of whittled utensils is close at hand as well. ]
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Ah. She'd finished collapsing before she could drink.
Not wanting to betray any potential weaknesses, Hayame is careful and measured when she reaches out for the "cup", pulling it close and beginning to sip from it slowly. Her throat was so dry that it was a relief, but she paces herself, knowing better than to overwater too quickly. The gratitude she must give is lingering in her throat, but...]
... Looks well-done for camp fare...
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[ He'd even found a weed that much resembled a common one from back home which could, indeed, be burned for salt. Hayame's meal need not be flavorless! Of course, all of this is just within the realm of what most any Faerghan would know, mostly. What's edible and safe when times are lean is essential knowledge.
Yuri turns his focus back to his work, chopping mushrooms more easily than most might with a sword. His movements are practiced enough to have a certain mechanical efficiency, though it's also a simple task. With a careful sweep of his blade, he guides the slices onto a nearby length of shell.
That just leaves picking the cooked nuts off of the heated stone... ]
Lucky for us, given our situation.
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[She repeats the word because, even if she knows he means it only in a certain edible context… It is not a word she really wants applied to their situations, because even the smallest aspect of the Oracle mission tied into their entire fate in Kenos, to the factions and their worlds…
And there’s nothing lucky about that.
But she knows what he meant and so she sips her water for a few beats more before,]
Still. Most warriors I know cannot produce this.
[So appealing, and laid out nicely on top of the look and smell of the food? Just take the compliment! (She may not have ever seen him fight, but he does wear a weapon, so… Warrior?)]
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[ Yuri picks at the grilled nuts with his twigs, holding them something like how one would chopsticks. It's a somewhat cumbersome, staggered progress, but he soldiers on with piling them onto his waiting dish. He works with purpose and determination, and soon enough, he's sliding another dish within Hayame's reach.
As best he can, he's endeavored to arrange the selection in such a way that she can easily get more of whatever she favors. It should all help get her strength back up, but he knows very little of her tastes, and an actual interest in eating a meal goes a long way.
If it were unpleasant, it could become chore-like. ]
As for cooking, I suppose it interested me. Knowing how to make even unappealing ingredients palatable made life easier, if only in one small way... And while it's impractical, when a good meal is such a luxury, I like seeing people get to enjoy it.
[ The festivities upon his arrival here were thus incredibly decadent to him. Such a bountiful feast, just for the few of them who had arrived... It added another layer of surreality to the whole affair. ]
Anyhow, have as much as you like. After losing that much blood, this'll help your body return to fighting form.
[ He punctuates this statement by placing one last dish of chopped mushrooms near at hand. ]
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... So she bows her head, slightly, murmuring,]
My thanks.
[For the healing and the food.
Which she starts to eat with guarded intensity, wielding the still-somewhat-foreign fork with some clumsiness. Mushrooms, "salad", grilled nuts... she is slow, admittedly still weak, but. It's good. It tastes very good.
So he's going to have to forgive her if she essentially just hunkers down and begins to stuff her face.]
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[ Alas, his lack of argument was his acceptance of the compliment. Their communication styles...
When it comes to her tucking into the meal, Yuri doesn't see anything to forgive. Rather, he's relieved that the food is acceptable to her and that Hayame doesn't appear to be having difficulties eating. That could have been a sign of complications from her injuries.
Satisfied that she's well enough to eat without monitoring, Yuri busies himself with stoking the fire and fetching her more water. Hydration is just as important as getting nutrients in, after all. His world lacks many of the innovations he's read of in the library, but they do know this much. ]
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... She isn't much of a talker, either, when she eats. Especially not when it's in situations like this, as opposed to a banquet or some such when she at least has the wherewithal to know she's supposed to be making conversation. But perhaps Yuri could have guessed that.
Hayame... keeps eating, giving only small nods when water is provided.
I truly cannot emphasize how much she is steadily putting in her mouth.]
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Yuri doesn't so much bustle around as drift from one task to another at a measured pace, aware he can create an anxious atmosphere otherwise. His little bramble gates are back in place, so they're quite well-concealed, so he isn't concerned with anyone finding them.
This doesn't mean that he and Byleth don't have traps set in the vicinity, but that's simply a reasonable measure for medieval mercenaries accustomed to potential attack. War assures anyone stays on their toes.
He does, however, occasionally fiddle with the curtain of moss draped over the entryway, if only to confirm for himself that Hayame's attacker hadn't managed to track her. ]
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... She thought he was Meridian, but. She cannot see his Shard to use True Sight to be sure. And even if he was one... It's not like she hadn't made her share of enemies in her own faction before. He might be from Fodlan, trusted by Byleth, perhaps Claude, but...
Finally... Hayame stops eating. She presses her hands together briefly, dipping her head, eyes (one eye, one pair of eyelids over an empty hole) closing for a single second.]
My gratitude for the food.
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You're most welcome.
[ They may not see eye-to-eye on a number of matters, but Yuri would rather see her in fighting form than not. Hayame's opinions are strong, but there's an honesty about them that he appreciates. Besides, her world strikes him as a place in which she may have not known enough simple kindness.
It is a tragic thought, but one he can't shake. ]
You'll be safe here while you recuperate. Byleth and I are well used to patrols and watches, so there shouldn't be any unpleasant surprises.
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... I should be on my way. There are Objects yet unclaimed.
[Was she still feeling somewhat weak? Yes. But surely, with some sleep (unconsciousness) and a meal...
Hayame begins to try and shift to get back up, pulling her forelegs out before her and bracing some weight on her human hands to start levering upwards. It is taking more time than it should, her legs quiver slightly, but she does at least seem like she'll succeed.
In. A moment.]
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[ He says the words before he can reflect on them. Aware as he is of the gravity with which Hayame regards all of this, he knows the words won't be well-received. Not as they stand, at least, and so he hastens to amend them. ]
There's time yet, to ensure you're steady on your feet. You weren't unconscious all that long.
[ From his surreptitious observations of the world outside his small camp, his traps had been effective defense thus far. So had Dimitri's fortifications. There may be more objects to find, but— ]
And don't forget you've got a team out there.
[ He leaves it to her interpretation whether he means she should rely on others or that she needn't view this whole contest as her personal responsibility. ]
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And then she is ready. Finally, she turns to Yuri, her expression dark with failure that needed redeeming.]
... I do not need your advice on how to secure Meridian's victory.
[Especially if that advice was to sit back and rest while she was capable of searching for the Objects. She wouldn't allow a repeat of the Iconoclast Oracle. But as she leaves, brushing past him,]
I will repay my debt once we return to proper size.
[- She just. Had to survive this Oracle, and actually think of a decent way to do that.]