Marlowe

Wings of Fire: Distant Storms

Speak to plants? her thoughts echoed. If she was any other dragon, Bluemoon wasn’t certain she’d believe it. Even then, she’d heard much wilder things during her travels. Hemlock’s suggestion on tormenting others made her crack a smile. That was tempting, though she pondered whether the others would pester her more or just avoid her entirely. There was no way of knowing for sure; for now, she much rather kept her mouth shut and solidified the fact that she didn’t know anything about anyone’s futures, lovelives, or deepest, darkest secrets. It had gotten her through things up until now.

Bluemoon closely observed Juniper as she explained the three types of dragons that had steadily migrated to Pyrrhia, only breaking eye contact when she motioned to the others that sat not far from them. The brightly-colored red dragon did have some features that reminded her of NightWings, even if they looked vastly different than she did. ”Now that you explained it, it isn’t all that hard to differentiate between everyone,” she replied with a giggle. Super patterned and pretty ones were SilkWings, very bright ones with smaller frames and black stripes were HiveWings, and then there were LeafWings that bore more natural hues. Simple enough for her.

When Hemlock spoke again, Bluemoon turned to him with a gentle expression. ”I’ll be happy to give you a tour of the Scorpion’s Den whenever you want. It’s my job to accommodate the refugees from Pantala and make sure they’re able to integrate so they become functional members of society. It’s the very least I can do, so no need to thank me for anything.”

Fire Emblem: Crestfallen

MENTIONS: Alfonse [@Zombehs] and everyone else.

Sherry flinched internally when the blond-haired broad opened up his big mouth to splutter absolute nonsense. Fire gathered within the confines of her chest as she swiveled her gaze in Andrion’s direction. Before she could give him a proper tongue-lashing, the others wasted no time in tossing their kindlings into the flames. Their words were enough to make her flush in embarrassment, which quickly turned into fury. Even then, that fury didn’t stick around for long as she realized that the Archbishop himself might as well have been listening to everything. Anger melted into frustration and fear as ice crept through her veins. Nervously, she sent another look in the Archbishop’s direction, though the pale-haired man had quickly meandered away from the gates and motioned for them to follow.

”Come now, children. We have to make it through the tour if we wish to beat the storm,” he called over his shoulder. ”We are to visit the mess hall next. That is where all of you will…”

Sherry didn’t listen to the rest of what he said as the Archbishop began to guide them away from the vicinity of the garden. Heat surged within her as she whirled around to face the Ravaleth boy. ”Think you’re so funny, huh?!” She was very much intent on continuing her tirade, though she quickly realized that she was in no way enunciating her thoughts like a princess of her stature should. Faltering for a moment, she cleared her throat. ”I would like to remind you of who you are speaking to. My claim over your heads is not restrained to… just…”

Hu-uh? She blinked when she noticed a pale-haired minor lordling kneel before some flowers and hold something close to their colorful petals. Is that… no, it can’t be…

Her anger once again faded away and she was immediately overcome with childish excitement. Sherry dashed over to Alphonse’s side, her eyes wide and shimmering with wonder. No way! It is!

”Is that a wyvern?!” Sherry squealed with glee. It was so tiny– definitely not one of the bloodwyverns she was so accustomed to back in Grimdall– but its vibrant orange hue still distinguished it as one with Galbian blood. Was it a hellbender? Lindwurm? No, it was far too small to be one of those. Much to her disappointment, it was too young to tell its lineage. But why was it so damn cute?!

It just hit her; she was being indecent. Sherry flinched again, yet she wasted no time in bringing herself back up into a stiff-backed position as she hovered over Alphonse and peered down her nose at him. ”Croix?” she snorted. ”I thought you hailed from House Kirlou.”

Abyss take her, why did the little lord have a pure-blooded wyvern as a pocket-pet? Sherry didn’t even want to know. Was she going to complain about it? Eh, probably not for the time being.

Wings of Fire: Distant Storms

Bluemoon returned Juniper’s tight smile, pleased to see that she was willing to accept her hospitality. During her time as a volunteer, there had been far too many dragons that had simply stared at her with empty eyes. Satchels of food would oft go uneaten and others were quick to take whatever jug wasn’t taken. It was good to see that Juniper wasn’t too shaken up from her displacement. She turned to Hemlock, about to question whether they needed anything else, when he blurted out a question that she certainly didn’t expect. Well, that was something.

”No worries. Where I’m from, curiosity is well-rewarded. But I’m a NightWing, probably the only one around these parts…” She nodded to get the point across. ”Our kind has been expelled from their homes on more than one occasion, so we know what it’s like. We’ve kept our pride all the way through, though. Everyone knows us for having strange powers, but not all of us do. Like me. I’m as plain as you and Juniper.”

Her smile became slightly strained as she readjusted the sash at her hip. It felt nice to have one less of the heavy jugs to worry about. ”The dragons here think I’m lying when I say I can't read minds or tell the future or feel what others are feeling. It was annoying at some point, but I’ve learned how to make light of it. It’s pretty funny.”

Bluemoon shuffled her wings when she realized that she was probably rambling. Clearing her throat, she sent a timid glance over at Juniper. "You two are LeafWings, yeah? I never thought that dragons could come in so many colors save for the RainWings."

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

MENTIONS: Everyone

Dawnlight brought with it a hectic flurry of activity. Groggy-eyed, and frankly still exhausted from the previous night’s excursion, Neve followed Team Kirin as they were guided to the castle’s stables with hardly a word escaping her lips. She was no stranger to waking up early– in fact, the Grovemasters often made her rise from bed before the first rays. What she wasn’t accustomed to was spending all of her energy healing the wounded so late at night, then having to rise early the next day with hardly any time to recuperate. All of her spells had always been cast at a leisurely pace with ample time to rest in between cures, but the number of wounded last night meant that there was little time to take a breath of respite. When everything was done and over with, she could hardly stand straight. Thank Etro that Arton was kind enough to lend her his arm on the way back to their room. If he hadn’t, she was certain that she would have collapsed and slept on the stairwell all through the night. Neve would have to thank him later.

The castle guard gifted them a flock of chocobo to use during their travels. It was surprising to see their unique hue. She was very much used to the canary yellow ones one found in Drana Asneau, but these looked different. Their color was much more muted and bordered on a silvery-gray. All of them had striking blue eyes that were bright and lively and they chirruped excitedly as the stablehands fitted them with leather saddles and reins. ”Their color will distinguish your team from ordinary rabble that pass through towns,” one of the guards had told them, ”Silver chocobos are exclusive to Leonhart’s warriors.”

They had also been granted a wagon that was pulled by stockier, standard chocobos. It was driven by a cheery moogle whose name was Goug– at least, that was what Neve had heard while she stroked the feathers of the chocobo that had been granted. The castle’s guards made introductions fairly brief, anyways, and before long they were sent on their way through the city. The sound of church bells rung through the cobblestone-paved streets as Balmung’s denizens rushed out from their homes to bid them farewell. Their beaming faces, so full of hope and vigor, was enough to allow a tired smile to crawl its way over her lips.

They would… no, they had to come back victorious for the good of people like those.

Team Kirin left Balmung and turned northwards, their path pointed towards Osprey. Neve wasn’t sure how long it would take them to reach the northern nation, though she was excited to experience its warm weather. Their troupe marched far, far down the path, and the paved promenade soon morphed into dirt roads. The sun was at its halfway point in the sky when the dirt roads disappeared and they were left without any waymarks at all. Ahead of them laid what appeared to be an endless sea of lush and very long emerald grass that glistened under the midday sun. Wind rippled over it and made it seem like it was alive.. Her eyes scoped the fields and the distant, snow-capped mountains that stood stark against the sea of blue above.

”I don’t think I’ve ever even dreamt of such a place,” she murmured. ”It’s so beautiful.”

”These are the Stormseas, kupo! Across from them are the mountains of Midgar.” Goug shouted from the back of their group. ”Yes, they’re pretty, but many a traveler get lost here because of the tall grass– or worse. Best keep your wits about you and stick close together!”

Wings of Fire: Distant Storms

Bluemoon's claws sunk deep into the soft, pale sands that had been scorched by the desert sun. Her calloused paw-pads were numb with pain as she trudged through the refugee camp and for a moment she cursed herself for not accepting the feet-wraps that had been offered to her by a considerate SandWing. They would surely provide protection against the heat, she had told her. Outsiders weren't used to the fire that brimmed below their talons. But Bluemoon was stubborn. If she planned to live in the desert for an extended period of time, then she might as well get used to its sweltering climate. Even then, the blisters that formed on her soles got to be extremely painful at times, so much so that she had to lick her pads and dunk them in water several times during the duration of her shift. She hadn't even been there for a month and she was already making a fool of herself.

In the confines of the Scorpion's Den, Bluemoon stuck out like a sore claw. Dragons from all over the continent were wont to gather there, but she hadn't seen a black hide or silver scale in the time she had resided there. She had seen some dragons that resembled those of her lineage in terms of their broad shoulders and larger frames… but as far as she knew, she was the only NightWing there. And three moons, did the Den's denizens let her know it. Though SandWings were large, she was larger, and sometimes they tipped their heads up at her with a teasing glint in their dark irises that pricked her scales. Other times, they'd shy away from her in fear and whisper behind her back. There were some that were bold with their queries. "Can you read my mind?" a MudWing would ask with a fangy smile. "Oh! Tell me what I'm thinking!"

Another time, a SandWing deep in his cup of cactus juice asked whether or not his partner would marry him. Bluemoon didn't have the chance to answer before he turned his attention back to his co-worker and cracked a sly joke that made her lips twitch. It was obvious to her she didn't belong. She was an outcast among not only her family, but among outcasts themselves. Hilarious.

Well, she thought as she carefully picked her way through the camp, heavy jugs of cool water swaying from her blue-and-gold sash. At least I'm an outcast with a purpose.

Bluemoon saw herself in these poor, strange dragons. Many did not like them. Pyrrhia already had their claws full with several hot-headed queens and strained relationships between tribes. Why did they have to tend to these dragons who don't even share the same customs as they did? Couldn't they defend their homes? They were weak and lazy, that was what, and they came to take advantage of the hard-working dragons of Pyrrhia. Such sentiments were difficult to agree with, in her opinion. Sure, the influx of new wings was daunting and surprising, but that didn't mean that these dragons didn't deserve a shot at a new life.

Bluemoon blinked the sand out of her steel-blue gaze as she padded along. Many of the refugees were huddled into family groups that stayed in whatever shade that was available. Others kept to themselves as their distant expressions stared into thin air. Then came the ones that stared at her, like the interesting-looking one that couldn't rip their eyes off of her. She couldn't help but give him a smile as she approached the pair.

"Hello. I hope you're faring well. My name is Bluemoon. Would you like some water? It's freshly pulled from the river, so it's still cold." She motioned her claws towards the jugs at her hips. The fastest way to get someone to open up was to offer respite from the heat.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

MENTIONS: Everyone

Things escalated far too quickly for her liking. Neve’s eyes widened when Izayoi shot forward in the blink of an eye. Before she knew it, the swordswoman held her blade flush against the flesh of a Unicorn’s throat. The sight of his face, which quivered in fear, was enough to further sour the taste in her throat. Just when she thought that things couldn’t get any worse, they did. An eccentric red-head had approached Izayoi and threatened her with her gunblade. Zeidgram had smashed the tall blonde man in the face, and the other had doubled over in pain as crimson gushed from his nose. By the time he recuperated from the blow, the red mage had the tip of his blade pointed towards his genitals.

The man scowled up at him, ruby-red blood dribbling down his chin as he released a slew of curses up at him before his guttural voice hardened into decipherable words. ”How dare you strike me? Don’t you know who I am?”

At this point in time, Neve didn’t care about who he was or wasn’t. All she wanted to do was go back to sleep. Thank Etro Galahad was able to deescalate the situation at hand. She didn’t want to know what would have happened next. And, judging from the dangerous glint in the Unicorns’ eyes, she was sure they made more than one enemy that night.

She nodded at Arton’s suggestion. He was another of their number that appeared to be the most calm-headed. Either way, it was best if they moved on. Just as she went to lead the way back into the castle, she eyed the viera male approaching the gathering of knights. A hard lump formed in her throat as she witnessed Leonhart’s face scrunch up for a split moment, then grow relaxed once more as he dipped his head toward the frustrated man. Her ears strained for the king’s words.

”It appears that a number of Valheimian soldiers infiltrated the castle under the guise of wishing to give aid… though I do understand your concerns, fair viera. Know that this is the first time in many years that our foe has been spotted so far inland and the very first instance in which they have attacked the castle. I will take note of their sudden boldness and adjust accordingly– but for now, I thank you for your aid in neutralizing our foes. You have shown me your prowess and talent, and now I am more than certain that I made the correct choice in recruiting you for aid.” He stepped out from betwixt his knights as he turned his gaze back towards the rest of them. ”I must ask you to not fight amongst one another. I’m afraid that, if more blood is spilled tonight, I will not hesitate in sending my knights to smooth over any transgressions.”

His features brightened slightly as he turned to Galahad. ”It’s in everyone’s best interest to listen to my dear cousin. I have placed my trust in him many times before.

”As for the coming morn, I shall provide you all with fresh, purebred, brave chocobo who long to whisk away through the grasslands and forests of our fine Edren. Wagons shall also be granted to each squadron, along with medical supplies and rations that are certain to last you long into your journeys. For the time being, I ask that you return to your quarters and rest. Worry not– security shall be increased tenfold and guards will be posted in each and every corridor. Please, sheathe your blades and retire to your dormitories.”

Neve glanced between Kirin, Unicorn, and Leonhart, her heartbeat throbbing in her throat. What stopped everyone from goring each other anyways? To her relief, the leader of the opposite group scoffed, spat a rosy glob of blood and saliva at his feet, and sulked away along with the rest of his party.

It was finally over with. At least, she liked to hope so. Neve released a harsh breath and cocked her head up at Arton. ”Come,” she said, her breath light and tense at the same time. ”We have work to do.”

Fire Emblem: Crestfallen

MENTIONS: Parthenia [@Click This] and everyone else.

Bloated, ivory clouds loomed far above the Irinduil students’ heads and refused to allow any semblance of cerulean sky to peek through the bulk of their masses. They watched the monastery from the heavens, stagnant and stiff. Moisture hung heavy in the air and a brisque early autumn breeze whisked over the cobblestone pathways, gathering crisp, blotchy leaves in its invisible fingers. A rainstorm was on the horizon. Sherry hoped that she would not get wet.

The majority of them had arrived around an hour ago. A caravan of horse-drawn wagons had brought them most of the way up the mountain, but much to her dismay, they had to walk the rest of the way. It was a tiresome trek, but Sherry had made it alongside her compatriots– and Roland. If there was anyone she couldn’t stand to disappoint, it was them… and the commoners, of course.

Archbishop Augustine greeted them at the entrance to the monastery. A tall, petite man, he bore long, black and white silk robes. His silver hair was done down in a smooth ponytail and his pale lips curled into a smile as he brought his arms up to greet the students at his feet.

”Irinduil opens its arms to you, future leaders of Musentia. It is an honor to greet you as Archbishop of the monastery.”

Such flowery words– nevertheless, Sherry listened well to them. Augustine looked just as her father described him to her. Pristine. Delicate. Almost like a portrait that had been carefully and painstakingly painted by a master’s hand. It was hard to believe that the Archbishop had once overlooked his tutelage as headmaster of the Officers Academy.

The introductory speech went as one would expect. Augustine presented the dean of students, stern-faced woman by the name of Iris, and the professor of the Ivory Serpents, a man named Talbot. Much to her disappointment, the professor of the Scarlet Foxes was not present… though she supposed she could do without them for the time being. Then came the assigning of the house leaders. The Ivory Serpents were dealt the heiress of Luralei, Francette Albillion Luralei, as their leader– a quaint little thing with a round face and an aloof glint in her eye. After the cheers of celebration died, Augustine presented the leader of the Scarlet Foxes, who was, much to her elation and delight, no one else but herself.

House leader! she thought as Augustine’s drone vanished beneath the veil of her excitement. I must write father. No doubt he’ll be ecstatic.

The rest of the orientation went on without incidence. Then, the students were duly portioned into the two houses and the time came for a tour of the campus. Professor Talbot was quick to take over the Serpents, and Sherry watched as they were guided deeper onto the monastery grounds. It was a surprise when Augustine took over the Scarlet Foxes in turn. Sherry wondered where their professor could be, though she didn’t dare ask him such a question for the time being.

Their first stop was a pleasant garden that had been built in the very heart of the monastery. The scent of exotic flowers wafted through the air as Sherry peered through the intricate gates that wrapped around its perimeter. Stone benches and decorated tables had been scattered around the grassy areas. Augustine stepped forward and pulled a key from his belt before he opened the gate and ushered the newly dubbed Scarlet Foxes inside.

”The gardens will be free to use anytime when classes aren’t occurring,” he stated, ”you may use this area for leisure or study. At times, we have the students tend to the flowers. It’s a very relaxing area, even during the winter– we even have the students give suggestions on what to plant during the cold months. If you’re interested in helping out, please speak to Professor Talbot.”

Who would come to Irinduil to learn about flowers? With a sly, sidelong glance, Sherry leaned towards Parthenia and whispered into her ear. ”I suppose I will consider it if I wish to die of boredom.”

Fire Emblem: Crestfallen

Looks good!

Fire Emblem: Crestfallen

@Ithradine He looks great. :) Can move him over

Fire Emblem: Crestfallen

Eli's good! Move him on over. @PrankFox