ulirblood reblogged
oopsie woopsie we made a fucky wucky
Hey!!
No action that Andrei attempts has any effect on his legs, which continues marching undaunted towards Edain's intended destination. Agitation bleeds through the mental link at his powerlessness to influence her choices.
This is my body. Shouldn't I be allowed to do as I wish, even if you've taken over it?
It's not even as though the situation is his fault this time. He had never run into any problems delivering messages to professors, up until this point. Certainly, it could be much worse if anyone else had control of his body than his older sister, but in the moment, the frustration boiling over makes it difficult to focus on the blessings.
You know there are people from our homeland who detest me, to say nothing of the Knights who have never looked favorably upon ones from the Abyss! I—
Andrei's thoughts freeze abruptly (how much has Edain heard clearly? and how much had she already known before?) before he hastily continues to speak, attempting to cover it up.
Don't— don't complain when your beloved Chalphy's army slings insults your way just for walking around looking like this.
"when it is going to hurt you, sorry, but no." she huffs on the way there, and it should be outrageously clear on her unwillingness to budge from this position.
she's about to ask what he means when he mentions the knights and this abyss thing when they arrive at the dining hall, stopping the conversation short.
no one seems to look her way when she enters the dining hall, a stark difference to the warm greetings she's used to as a loved professor of the blue lions house.
certainly this is not the warmth that she is used to feeling from the students, but it is far from being detested like andrei speaks of. "you need to relax." she whispers to keep their conversation to themselves as she heads to where the food is served. "you're just here to eat like everyone else."
she does however note the glances aimed towards her— or rather what is presumed to be andrei— from the few knights currently in the dining hall. looking at them produces nothing except for an obvious effort to look at anything but him when noticed.
strange. a brief frown tugs at her lips before she lets the thought go and stops in front of the serving counter. "excuse me, miss." she calls out politely to the student working behind it, a smile uncharacteristic of her brother replacing the previous frown.
The most intangible things take the longest to prepare.
Even as the date approaches, even with all of his practice under Lady Deirdre's tutelage, as diligent as his practice with the bow had been all his life, Andrei remains unsure of his decision. It would be easier, he knows, to simply acquire a trinket with his limited funds, as he had the previous year. There would be no chance of failure, and Edain would accept it, would appreciate it, would find it meaningful.
(After all, she expects so little of you that anything you have to offer would be a pleasant surprise.)
But it wouldn't have been as meaningful, not to him. He'd known what he'd wanted to do, had known ever since his ill-fated return to Jugdral had been a failure. If he cannot be allowed to rectify his mistakes... he would at least attempt something truly right and good, for once. Even at the risk of Edain not quite understanding the significance of such a gesture, coming from him, it is something he needs to do.
And so it is with this conviction that he seeks her out. "There's... something I'd been practicing, that I wanted to show you," he says, the only explanation he gives before reaching out with palm up, a silent gesture for her to take his hand. Should she comply, Edain would find her brother's fingers, slightly cold to the touch as usual, closing over hers. A beat of silence, then—
Warmth, and a soft, white glow, blooming over her hand.
It's easier to cast a Heal spell without the presence of a physical wound. It's what beginners are set to practice, over and over, until they are deemed ready to work their magic on living beings needing treatment. For all intents and purposes, this is not a difficult task for Andrei, who had worked tirelessly to master the spell in the lessons given to him. Still, his expression holds the same utter concentration as when he'd shot his first arrow, under Brigid's watchful eyes.
(This is important, so he cannot fail. A sentiment unchanged across time and circumstance, for better or for worse.)
The light finally dissipates. Andrei squeezes Edain's hand, his own still warm from the lingering magic. A small, inadequate repayment for the kindness she'd given him since their reunion, but an earnest attempt all the same.
"It's not really much of a present, but..." he trails off. It's not a present, but at the same time, it's what he'd wanted to show her. That she'd left a mark on him, one as potent as that of Lady Sister Brigid, though he'd been blind to it nearly all his life. That he sees her, that he'd always seen her, as important, even if he'd tried his hardest to convince her — and himself — otherwise. That her faith in him isn't completely in vain, despite how much he might stumble.
That he would choose to take her hand, as long as she is still willing to extend it to him.
"...Happy birthday, sister."
once upon a time her brother had berated her at the thought of her becoming a priestess. there wasn’t anything to be had in nunhood, he would have scoffed a long time ago. how would they find lady sister if not as a bow knight of the beige ritter?
#{ birthday 2023. }#{ ic. }#{ i swear to god i didn't plan on this reply becoming this long oh my god }#{ UHHH YAY YNGVIS SAD PARTY EMOJI }#{ read more because im literally fucking insane and this reads more like a drabble if anything }#{ also if youre seeing this you can absolutely still send edain birthday asks. i WILL answer them even if theyre “late” }
ulirblood reblogged
dominoes — patty and edain
@lockpicnic (moved from here)
“Ah— sorry, Auntie…” Her cheeks are practically stained red, her embarrassment continuing to set in. She boasted so much about being a good cook and knowing her way around a kitchen knife, only to quickly make a fool of herself. At least she could put the knife away for now. “Yeee-ep! The sauce is already made for us!” She runs back to the fridge and grabs a jar of tomato sauce and places it on the counter along with all of the chopped ingredients. “Now’s the fun part— puttin’ it together! Well— it ain’t as fun as when we get to eat it, though.”
“just be a little more careful next time, alright?” a fond smile returns to her face, because for all the fear she’d felt just now it was nice to be able to do something normal like this. briefly in her mind she wishes that brigid was here to see how her daughter had grown, but she throws the thought away in order not to pull the atmosphere down. this was about having fun with her niece and nothing else!
“alright let’s take care of the sauce!” she says as she picks up the sealed jar, opening it with a surprising amount of ease. it definitely did not look like something you could just pop open like she did… “now we just spread it evenly all over the dough, right?” she looks to patty for instructions even though she didn’t really need them— she just wanted to involve her niece in this process as much as possible.
ulirblood reblogged
reyson wake up we fucked up big time!
her healing magic comes as a relief. the direct magics of the beorc differ from the types of magic he's used to, but not in a bad way. the white magic he associates more with staves flows through him from her hands and he sighs softly as his injury repairs beneath her touch.
she is gentle, for a beorc. he can sense her strength of spirit, though, clear as day. they surely will not stay caged for long.
"allow me to inspect the lock?" he suggests, standing up fully once she withdraws her healing hands. ah, that's much better. he makes his way to the door and inspects it as best he can.
"i feel like we'd need some kind of tool to pick it. i don't have any, but if you'd like to take a look..."
the stress of the situation has him on-edge. he will surely look back on this experience with excitement, but not until he's safe. he will not be sold like a pet again, no matter what.
"i think drawing the attention of the next person we see would be our best bet."
he can be persuasive... sometimes. not like his siblings can be, but he's not without some charm, surely. and priestess edain more so, he' sure.
“be careful. don’t overextend yourself.” she warns, watching him stand up to inspect the lock on their prison cage. she does not say anything while he inspects it, allowing him the silence to concentrate.
it is only when he speaks back to her again that she approaches him, standing far closer than before. “a tool, hm.” she hums, looking at the lock herself. if they hadn’t stolen all her belongings, she probably could of used one of the pins she used for her hair to pick it. or maybe they might not have gotten everything on her person…?
she digs through the smaller pocket on her dress, the only place it would be, only to find nothing. they had really taken everything. what barbarians. “if they hadn’t stolen our things…. we have no choice.” she shakes her head in frustration, looking back to reyson. “we’re going to have to catch someone’s attention. they have to have a guard who patrols consistently. “ she crosses her arms, hand on her chin in thought. “if they’re keeping us in a cage like this, they probably want us alive. we might be able to get someone to unlock the door if one of us fakes an illness or an injury.”
"Do you know," he said, straightening from his position near Seliph to turn to Edain. He extended the platter of meats as he spoke, and afterthought almost, a prelude to the main course. The platter is displayed with a variety of finely roasted poultry meats, cooked in a traditional Chalphy style of one-within-the-other. The skin of the turkey is crispy, and the fats from the duck have marinated both the chicken within and the turkey without. There are cloves and lemon slices studding the plate, combining to form a melange of rich flavors. The choice of which piece to take is up to the feaster – there is plenty to go around!
"Do you know that I could spend all day listing your finer qualities, and still not have summarized all that I could be thankful to you for, my lady? No, no, it is true! You are my oldest friend, my closest comfort - you have looked after me through so many dark nights in my life, and you have done the same for my son in my absence. It is to you that I credit his health, his wellness, and his strong spirit - that came not from me, I think."
It was easy to say these things to Edain - thankfulness was something that he was used to, with her, something that tipped from his mouth in just as effusive quantity as warmth.
But that was also the problem, for he knew not precisely how to emphasize how much she meant - not just to him, but to all around him.
"Do you know that I would be lost without you, my dear friend?" His eyes creased with his smile. It was not as flowery as an admission as he might have given on another occasion, but if Edain looked closely, she might have seen the mist in his eyes - might have heard the crack in his voice, if she'd the ear. "You have my love, now, and always."
sat between seliph and larcei, her friends’ future children, edain thinks she could not be happier as when she watches sigurd give his speech of thanks. it’s cheesy and a bit boyish but it is so very him.
after belhalla, she thought she could truly be happy again, but by all accounts the impossible has been accomplished. her loved ones had been brought back to her. the chalphy family is alive and so too is her brother. it is only midir and brigid that are missing, but even they stay alive in her heart. edain smiles warmly, watching sigurd come up to her. it is like a dream, she thinks. she does not take from the platter of meats right away, instead focusing on sigurd as he speaks.
similarly to how deirdre had earlier in the evening, his little speech is only filled of praise and compliments towards her character— nothing of her beauty as once expected by all the noble men around her. sigurd has always been authentic with her, and she would not change that for the world.
“lord sigurd.” she speaks after he finishes, wishing she could grasp his hands tightly as if to cement the compliments she’s about to speak herself. “you do not realize how important you are to me, i think.” she cannot help but chuckle, out of both nerves and amusement. “you have been there for me since my days of knighthood, the first person who was able to show me how authentically kind a man can really be. you are my dearest and closest friend— and i know that i would do anything for you.” she clears her throat, getting a little bit teary eyed herself. “if there is anything i want you to take away from this feast, i want you to know that i will always be on your side no matter what.”
sigurd is a man she will follow into death if she has to, even if he might protest it. “thank you.” and after a moment allowed to calm from the sudden wave of emotions, edain takes her own smaller serving. she was not someone who ate lots and lots, even at feasts like this. placing her plate back on the table, she turns to sigurd and playfully pushes against his back. “you have the other guests to give thank to! don’t keep them waiting.”
ulirblood reblogged
@ulirblood sent:
"seliph, over here!" edain calls out with her hand in the air to get his attention. the feast that the chalphy and yngvi family would have together was something of the past that she didn't think their children would be able to see again.
yet sigurd and ethlyn had so graciously put together this feast— and now here their children were to attend it. she couldn't be happier that they were getting to participate in time-honored traditions— even if they had turned a bit unconventional. as soon as seliph is in her vicinity, she pulls him close for a tight hug. "you've grown so much since you were a baby." she pulls away after a chuckle. "i'm happy that you're here seliph. if you need anything from me, please don't hesitate to ask, okay? and don't be afraid to approach your father, either."
"lady edain!" seliph's face lights up at the sight of a familiar face. the corners of the young man's mouth tug upwards into a smile that could brighten up an entire room without its owner being any the wiser.
his feet change their course.
soon enough, seliph finds himself being pulled into a hug. & it's without hesitation his arms wrap around edain in return, any awkwardness having been left long behind. the familiarity and warmth undoubtedly spring forth childhood memories of the lady edain who is older but just as kind as the one in front of him.
"of course." a nod accompanies his response while unspoken gratitude reflects in the pair of sapphire-blue eyes. he looks away in order to locate his father's head of blue hair before turning back to her. "it seems father is still busy greeting the other guests... i think i'll go say hello later."
perhaps he ought to look around. after all, it's a rare opportunity for him to learn about the traditions of his father's house!
"but i'm glad to see you here as well."
"ah…" her gaze follows to where seliph looks to his father, a sympathetic smile tugging at her lips. he certainly was still standing closer to the entrance, greeting every guest that decided to pay a visit— even if they were clearly late. "your father has always spread himself too far for the people around him." edain says with a clearly fond shake of her head.
she isn't sure how much her older self might have told seliph about sigurd, but she hopes his son knows how good of a man he is.
"this isn't the battlefield seliph." she speaks after a few seconds of silence with some mild understanding of how he grew up, looking back at him. "he's your father and you're his beloved son. you're allowed to be selfish. though i understand it might be a bit nerve-wracking when he's surrounded by so many people…." she trails off, then decidedly claps her hand onto his shoulder like a doting mother might. "but i promise he would be happy to know his son wants to talk to him."
Hand-imals - Proud parents in the Duchy of Chalphy happily display their children's handprints decorated to look like animals (such as turkeys, reindeer, or others!) this time of year on their iceboxes. With the large array of art supplies provided, can you create a masterpiece worthy of such an honor?
“Ta-daa! Pretty neat drawing, wouldn’t you say?”
“I think I’ve actually outdone myself this time… Say, Lady Edain, what do you think? You know what this is supposed to be, right? Right??”
"oh, it looks lovely sweetheart!" edain smiles and claps her hands together despite the fact that doesn't really know what it is she's looking at. it's definitely some kind of animal just going by tradition, but the specifics are a bit… lost on her.
then larcei says she should know what this is, and edain cannot help but sweat a little. a horse maybe, or a reindeer…? "it's so creative." she says instead, because she'd rather not offend by assuming she knew what it was. "why don't you explain it to me? i want to know every little detail." yes, that is most certainly a safer answer than blindly guessing.
Thankful - A Chalphy tradition after a harvest is to thank the earth for its bounty, the Crusaders for their blessing, and for one’s loved ones for their presence. Why not get a little festive (and potentially cheesy) and tell someone exactly what they mean to you?
"Lady Edain," Deirdre reaches for the priestess's hands and pulls her to a quiet corner of the dining hall. "I do not know if I have ever had the chance to properly thank you for everything you have done for me over the years. I have heard it is tradition in Chalphy to do this at a feast like this."
She has often thought about just how different her life would have turned out if she had never met Edain. How she would still be living her life in Verdane's Spirit Forest. Alone.
"You were the first person outside of the Spirit Forest to ever show me true kindness. My very first friend. You told me stories of Lord Sigurd and I fell in love with him before I even met him. You were there at my first wedding and the birth of my first child. You were a guiding source of light."
Her grip tightens just slightly. The next part is difficult.
"Even after I was taken, you were there for me. You cared for my Lord Sigurd and my Seliph. My son knows the warmth of love because of you. And now, you are patient and gentle and understanding. I know that things are not the same as they had been before but I love you, Edain. Please know that I am eternally grateful for everything you have done for me and especially so that we have been brought back to each other."
"lady deirdre." she parrots back, allowing deirdre to take her by the hands and pull her to a quieter corner in the dining hall. a curious gaze holds her, wondering what deirdre would have of her. she would do anything for the woman, as long as it was something she was capable of.
edain's lips part slightly as she listens to deirdre speak of their friendship and how thankful she is that she has someone like herself close to her. they hold hands throughout it all, and she feels deirdre's grip on her tighten at the most subtle level.
"i……… thank you, deirdre." she smiles warmly, dropping the title of 'lady' just as deirdre does for her. "i wish that it was different, you know. i wish that you could have grown older together with sigurd. i wish you could have cared for your son seliph as he grew up." she confesses, because as easy as the mantle of mother is to take up for her friends' children, she knows it will never be the same as a biological mother's love.
"i wish you could have had the proper experiences a mother should have." she murmurs, eyes slightly shiny. "but i am honored to know that my presence in your life has helped you so much. i am honored to be the figure that your child needs in his life. and…" she cannot help but sniffle, wiping away at the single tear that strays from the corner of her eyes. "i love you as well, deirdre. i always will."
As a dog -- and a puppy, mind you -- Honk has no concept or understanding of the tradition of mistletoe. That doesn't stop him from finding a loose sprig of it and instantly using it as a chew toy. He tosses his head back and forth, shaking the plant around and even dislodging a berry or two.
He lets it go sailing after another good shake of his head, chasing after it and bumping into a pair of legs in the process. The puppy recovers quickly with a yap, grabbing up the sprig once more and rolling invitingly onto his back; paws flailing and tail wind-milling at the prospect of a playmate.
"oh!" edain gasps in surprise when she feels something bump into her legs, falling slightly forward but managing to stabilize herself before she could well and truly fall over. she looked behind her to see who the culprit was just as the puppy yaps at her and grabs the sprig it had been evidently holding in its mouth for a while now.
she isn't sure how someone had managed to bring a puppy here given all the food that was a potential target for it to nab, but still she kneels down and treats the dog with a warmth and kindness very familiar of edain. "my, what have you got?" she giggles, eyes crinkling in amusement and delight as she rubs furiously at the puppy's belly. "stealing is bad, sir." she chastises playfully.
ulirblood reblogged
✢⁎. kitchen belhalla
//baldr's bounty starter for @ulirblood !
Fergus whistles a jaunty tune, none the wiser to the sound of footsteps creeping after him. Right now he's busying himself in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled to his arms and his eyes brimming with the intent to help out. He's a party crasher, sure, but no freeloader. He'll pull his weight around here, especially for Leif's extended family. The other blonde has ample time to file in behind him.
"Hm-hm, hmm-hmm-hmm~" He hacks into a pair of fresh steaks, his knifework made decent by practice with a blade. While not exactly a gourmet cut, Fergus at least has a steady hand. They have also been dusted with salt--a surprising feat for the Thracian. Then, it comes time to cook them. Most folk would turn to the stove now, heating up a skillet before tossing the meat on top. If they're particularly gifted, they'd throw in some butter to baste.
Fergus does none of these things.
He dumps water into a pot until it's about half full. Placing it under a running fire, he allows the water to begin heating up before nonchalantly--and it needs to be stressed that he doesn't have a care in the world as he does this--plops his steaks into the water. The flavoring wastes right off.
With it set to boil, he looks over his shoulder. "Oh, hey there," greets the freeblade, friendly as ever, "you here to help? I'm all good on my own, but the company doesn't hurt. Name's Fergus, a sellsword from Jugdral. You?"
she of course would not allow herself to sit and watch everything be prepared. the feast was a recreation of the past one's she had with the chalphy family, and in those past feasts she had always helped out in some way. she would do as she always had and help them out.
it is that thought that automatically guides her to the kitchen while some last minute guests are still coming in— greeted rather diligently by lord sigurd and lady ethlyn.
hearing some humming in the kitchen, she can't help but be a little curious. "excuse me." she approaches, and when he turns to look at her she stops where she is.
this isn't a person she recognizes, not by voice or name, but something of his facial features comes familiar to her. she blinks slowly, staring at him for a moment and trying to place why his facial features are so familiar. he looks like he'd handle a sword well.
'my name's fergus, a sellsword from jugdral.'
the same continent, but the familiarity is more than that, more personal. before she can try to pick the face out from her vast amount of memories, she realizes she's gone completely silent. edain rushes to bow her head in something of an apologetic gesture. "apologies, fergus. i.. didn't mean to stare or anything." is what she manages to come up with.
she's done worse in her apologies, at least. "i am, yes. i know the two hosting the feast. our families were very familiar with each other and would host something similar every year. it's only right that i help out in the kitchen." she smiles softly at the warm memory of a chalphy-yngvi gathering, looking to the ground for a brief moment before her gaze flits over to meet his directly.
it's his eyes that are most familiar to her she decides then, but she still wonders why. "my name is edain.... from yngvi. you might recognize the family name, being from jugdral."
ulirblood reblogged
𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵.
"I do find it fascinating that you choose to believe Sigurd had the best intentions, while I most certainly could not have. It seems the same grace you expect me to find for him you will not extend to me."
He looks at her, does not echo any of her emotions that she shows on her face. He sees it now -- the lack of ability to see the world from all sides, to understand the breadth of what is before her. He does not pity her, but he does not care for her opinion, either.
"I would not blame Sigurd for what I have done. Nor can you pass judgement on me, when you know not why Sigurd's death was inevitable."
He thinks of sins and loss, and hears a voice in the back of his head that reminds him of why any of this matters. For what purpose has he tried to create a better world? His soul is dirtied, soiled and rotten; yet it will never be like his father's, and he will never falter in his conviction to make this world a better place.
"You chose to follow a fool, one who follows orders without thinking them through. You are the ones who decided you would give your lives to a man who was only a puppet to the former king. I do wonder, do you weep for those who have fallen before your friends? Or does it only matter to you if you can recall their faces? You say that I must cleanse myself of my sins, yet you will not face yours first. Know well I know the breadth of my crimes, and have no issue with facing them. Your ire is not the first I have faced, nor shall it be the last."
He laughs, now. It's bitter, and it tastes like sulfur. The bones they speak of that he crushed beneath his boots had been from soldiers -- those who willingly fought behind that fool of a man. The generations of abuse of power was given to Sigurd directly, and what he chose to do with it was not to reform it, to mold it, shape it into something greater than himself.
Arvis had been granted the gift of understanding when he found his father's lifeless corpse. Shame it was not possible that Sigurd do the same.
"Did you weep because you were betrayed? Surely, then, you cried for Reptor when General Aida slew him where he stood? Or did you weep because you cared about those faces, knew their names, their titles, their lands? How transparent, Lady Edain. I would have expected better from you."
He turns on his heel, having no interest in continuing the conversation. There are thoughts, now, that bloom like wildflowers in reds and golds -- they call to him, and he cannot ignore that any longer. Let her think of him what she will, it makes no difference in the end.
Not when there are more important thoughts to be had.
He pauses, looks over his shoulder. "One word of advice, if you would. When a dog like your Sigurd is let loose, you either become its new master or you put it down."
her face flushes hot red, not quite with embarrassment but with anger. the fact that arvis would speak of sigurd like that. she cares not what arvis thinks of her, but what he thinks of her friends is far too important to edain for her to back down.
sigurd is not some plot point in a storybook and nothing more. her lessons of nunhood and knighthood fall away, escaping from her grasp and refusing to allow her to calm herself.
deep down she knows. edain knows that lord sigurd should be dead, that she should be back in tirnanog raising a family. the presence of her friends’ children who were supposedly raised by her make that impossible to deny. her destiny was to pick up the shattered pieces of her closest allies and slowly but surely build them back up in the from of their children.
but… but…
when lord sigurd is here and alive, when she has been reunited with her allies— she cannot fall to that destiny.
“i chose to follow a good man that was betrayed by his own country. and i would die all the same in a shallow grave for his sake.” she confesses with frightening ease, pressing her hand against her chest and leaning forward ever so slightly.
“thanks to his foolish heart, lord sigurd inspired loyalty in me no matter the circumstance— i can say very little the same about you, lord arvis. i was willing to give you a chance like i did my brother, but you feel no remorse about the things you have done in this world.” she shakes her head. “nor do i see any want or potential to change.”
he wasn’t really sorry about midir. everyone in sigurd’s army was merely a chess piece to him. she takes a sharp breath, glaring one last time at him.
“i have no idea what lady deirdre sees in you.” comes her last hiss, breathing slightly heavily by the end of her tangent. “and i would rather die than follow your advice. good day.”
she does not curtsy or bow, turning away without a second thought and returning to the festivities.
[END]
ulirblood reblogged
sorry about my grinch brother — andrei & edain & sigurd
"I'm not anxious," Andrei snaps, the tightness in his posture undermining the statement as he scowls at the man seated at the table. If anything, Sigurd should be anxious to see him, given he was part of the group who brought Chalphy's reputation to ruin and attempted to take his life. Successfully, even, if the rumors were true.
Even before the conspiracy, it's not like he had any sort of friendship with the older man, who'd spent most of the year in Belhalla Academy by the time Andrei was old enough to be aware of anyone outside immediate family. He holds back a scoff as Edain calls out to Sigurd, speaking to him as though he would be at all happy to have Andrei at the feast.
"Lord Chalphy," he greets tersely, already tensing in preparation for the other man's reaction. Edain's hand on his wrist restrains him from saying anything more, not that there is anything to say to Sigurd of all people. Is he meant to compliment the banquet?
@bxldrsdraumar
The party was quite abuzz with activity - new friends and old alike chatting, meeting, mingling, and Sigurd could not have been further pleased. It truly was exactly as he'd remembered, from his childhood, his young adulthood - with a few notable exceptions. He tried not to think of the tug that pulled at him whenever he saw a face passing familiar, the frown that furrowed his brow in spite of his smile as he scrambled to decide whether it was that he had forgotten them or simply did not know him.
It was harder than expected to distinguish.
If there was one face he simply could not forget - his heart would not let him - it was Edain's. He'd already seen her at the affair, had already peppered her cheeks with greetings, and when she waved to him from across the room he found it easy to make his excuses to his current conversational partner and bound over to see her.
"My dear friend! I hope that you are enjoying yourself?"
His eyes flicked to the sour young man's face as Edain spoke. There was that tug again, the insistence in his gut that he knew this man, they shared an intimacy that he could not quite put his finger on -
Until Edain hit the nail on the head, and realization dawned on him, a smile coming to bloom across his face.
"Little Andrei? Truly, this is Little Andrei?" Sigurd boomed a laugh, clapping a hand against his breast in delight. "My, boy, you certainly have grown, haven't you? Goodness, might it have been the last time I saw you, you were yea high?"
He gestured vaguely about his knees, the last size he remembered this boy, clutching at his sister's skirts.
Without waiting for an answer, Sigurd clapped a hand on his shoulder and dragged him into a full embrace. "Incredible, wonderful to see you, lad. Please, be welcome as the family you are!"
@ulirblood
she knew that she did not have to worry about sigurd accepting her brother. the man was kind and amicable, and andrei had not yet done enough to deserve total scrutiny. edain lets go of andrei’s wrist, allowing sigurd to pull her brother into a hug with little to warning.
she smiles and giggles, warm expression slightly covered by the gently clenched fist over her lips. “lord sigurd, please do be careful.” she says, amusement and love both clearly laced into her tone.
she had not even stopped to think that sigurd would not remember her brother beyond his first few years. “thank you for accepting him, but he’s not the excitable puppy you are, my lord! he likes his personal space.”
@ulircursed
ulirblood reblogged
sorry about my grinch brother — andrei & edain & sigurd
it took quite a bit of convincing and talking, but in the end andrei had allowed her to drag him where sigurd sat— still working on making sure everything was going according to plan for the feast.
"you don't have to be anxious, andrei." she reassures with a light and airy voice. "lord sigurd is a good man. he will not turn you away." the very man that killed him is at this feast, after all. a bitter thought that she doesn't voice out loud.
"lord sigurd!" she calls out to him loud enough to get his attention, all while holding onto andrei's wrist like he's a child who might get lost in the sea of people. "do you remember my brother at all? i was able to get him to join the feast!"
@ulircursed @bxldrsdraumar
He's going to regret this.
Andrei would never have given attending a feast organized by the Chalphys a second thought on his own, but Edain had mentioned it to him, encouraged him to attend. And while he hadn't given a straight answer in the moment, in the end, he'd still made the decision to head to the surface, through the grounds and into the dining hall.
(Perhaps some part of him trusted, implicitly, that things would be alright as long as his sister is there.)
Now, that unspoken faith wavers in the presence of the throng of guests at this party. There are plenty of unfamiliar faces, to be certain — this is clearly not a Grannvale or even Jugdral-only affair — but merely the ones he recognized, whether vaguely or by name, bode ill enough.
Sigurd and Ethlyn, of course, front and center as the hosts of the feast. The Isacchian seated across the table from Edain, and the Silessian prince not far away. Even, he notes grimly, Lord Arvis. Interactions with any of them had much more potential to end poorly than otherwise.
He waits, then, for Edain to leave her seat for one of the side tables. The crowd hides his presence from any hostile individuals until he is able to approach, and he does so with an air of disconcerted irritation. "I'm here now," he hisses at his sister the moment she is within earshot, arms crossed tightly across his chest.
"I don't know why you would possibly think my acceptance of the invitation is anything but a terrible idea," he says, "There is no one here who would be happier for my presence, least of all myself."
even as she mingles with her family, not blood-related but equally as important, she can still not help but wish for her brother's presence here. in the last few gran their relationship had been getting better— more stable. there was still lots of progress to be had, but she welcomed any improvements between them.
this was the very reason she had invited andrei to come as well, though time was clearly ticking and there was no sign of him yet. had she too much hope in their relationship, to expect him to accept her invitation? to expect him to at least poke his head in for a few minutes…?
"excuse me, i'm going to make sure everything is going alright in the kitchen." she smiles politely as she scoots her chair out, making an excuse to have a moment to herself.
it is coming within vicinity of the entrance that she hears his voice. her head whips around in surprise, wondering if she was imagining things, but no—!
"brother!" she gasps, a genuine smile taking to her face as she hurries to meet him where he is. "you made it, i'm so glad." she reaches around to give a tight-knit hug than pulls away shortly after.
"nonsense, andrei!" she shakes her head. "this is a chance for you to make some new friends! and besides— i'm far happier now that you're here."
ulirblood reblogged
𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵.
He does not react, because he knows that this is one of the possible directions this conversation could go. He does not smile. He does not nod his head. And he does not placate.
"Indeed, I often wonder about the friends and families of those who suffered losses during those years. What considerable acts of violence that they had to face," he sighs, and brushes a strand of hair back behind his ear. His words are somber, held with remorse. It is not false, though he does not expect her to believe him.
"When a nation is subjugated and invaded by surrounding ones, there are so many issues that come about for its people. Innocent ones, those who did not choose their leaders and did not choose their path in life. Ones who did not volunteer for war. Farmers, merchants, wives, husbands. Children separated, as you've seen within the rebellions in Isaach... or perhaps you mean to reference the conflict in Verdane?"
His eyes are on hers. They do not shift, they do not falter. They are not judgmental, and yet they do not yield. What sort of world is it that the life of one outnumbers the lives of thousands? What arrogance must one have in order to feel that their friends are more important than the classes that support them? To say that the lives of those who work for their living, are not born within their class, are worth less than those of noble birth?
That is a despicable notion. He hopes she does not believe this.
"But surely not, because invading Verdane was an act of self preservation. One that many could understand and accept, which means that the cause -- that is, to aid an ally in her time of need -- justifies the violence against a people, no? My, that would not have happened, however, if there weren't people missing from their homelands. Do remind me, Lady Edain, what was Lord Byron doing in Isaac during that time?"
He crosses his arms. The room feels colder, somehow, but he does not shiver. "That was a liberation movement, was it not? I'd forgotten the exact phrasing used in this case, to justify the invasions. Please do correct me if I am misusing the carefully curated political phrases. That simply would not do."
Ah, but there is the irony: he wonders, did Lady Edain weep when Aida betrayed Reptor? Did she weep for his children? Did she shed tears for those lost in the Isaachian conflict? Did she cry for the downtrodden, those subjugated by the will of those who garnered more power than them?
Or does she only care for those who remain in front of her?
"I must apologize for when I invaded Augustria, a country that did not need my assistance," he continues. His voice is ice. He still does not falter in his expression, but his words are clear. "I should never have invaded the both of them, Augustria and Verdane, namely, in order to help my beloved friends. Two people's lives are not worth those that were lost. I cannot imagine the people that have suffered, the loved ones separated, and the orphans made. Or rather..."
He pauses. Looks at her. Lets there be a beat between them. He does not smile. He does not blink.
"That was not me, was it? Hm. Peculiar."
he is cold and calculating— yet with a manner of arrogance to him that far too many noblemen had the problem of wielding like a shield. she wonders how deirdre could ever love a man like this. she stops where she is, staring back at him as he continues speaking without breath.
“… it is true that lord sigurd did not approach the situation in the best of ways.” she speaks slowly, glaring back up at him. it is not very often that edain has to use her tongue to speak like a myrmidon would unsheathe their sword, but it is not something she hesitates to do in this scenario. “he is brash, bull-headed, stubborn. all sorts of things that can make a woman go crazy.” a small fond smile tugs at her lips, thinking of him now as her gaze flits briefly to the ground. “but in that same breath, he is kind, strong-hearted. willing to do whatever he must for his friends. i suspect you do not know that side of him like i do.”
her gaze returns upwards to arvis, warm expression gone. “he does not control how the people around him react. he could not control his father’s decisions. he could not control verdane as it took control of castle yngvi and captured me. he could not control king chagall’s refusal to truce. he could not control the beige ritter as it slaughtered the pegasus knights of silesse. i could keep going but i don’t think i need to for you to understand his hand was forced into battle so very often.”
“… a good man like him, forced to act by the people around him.” the priestess pointedly frowns. “and where does that put you, lord arvis? lord sigurd trusted you in belhalla, and you betrayed that trust. you sent all my friends to death when we were all ready to put down our weapons. you had control of that scene, and you chose death.”
“it does not bode well of your character either. that, rather than take accountability and address the things you have done wrong, you point to another man first. as if that will cleanse you of your sins.”
ulirblood reblogged
𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵.
"Your mind is sharp," he says. He will not deny that Deirdre has come to him and asked that she asked him to apologize; he had -- still has -- no issues with that. There are things that must be done in order to keep the peace, and through his years of politics he has honed the skill of navigating these intense and serious situations.
He does not try to step closer to her. He does not want to. Should this be their one and only conversation he will not begrudge her -- so long as she continues to make Deirdre happy with her continued friendship, then he will be pleased to let her be. "I am very aware of how much you mean to Lady Deirdre. She cares for your companionship quite a bit."
He turns a corner, the clicking of his heels on the cobblestones echoes along the halls. Precisely how he chooses to phrase this will determine the rest of the conversation, he's sure. So he speaks with care and clarity.
"She has also informed me about the loss of your beloved. He was innocent, from what I can gather. I am sorry you suffered such a loss."
He bows at the waist, just a little. An apology, but not one that accepts the breadth of his involvement.
‘she cares for your companionship quite a bit.’
edain’s gaze turns soft thinking of the woman, thr blonde staring out in front of her for a brief moment. “…lady deirdre is important to me as well.” she murmurs, her voice just barely loud enough for arvis to make out what she says.
she looks back towards him after they turn the corner, the hot blooded eyes of a yngvi following the way in which he apologizes and bows to her.
he is sorry for her loss, he says. edain has trouble believing the sincerity of that statement, but it is not just that that bothers her. but rather…
this would be far more simple if it was just midir that she lost.
“thank you, lord arvis.” she does not smile nor does she bow her head back. “but what of the others?” she purses her lips, watching his reaction carefully. “what of the fathers and mothers that will not return to their children? what of the many orphans that remain after belhalla— the families you have separated?” she pauses, breathes in then out. “it is not just me that you owe an apology to.”