open.

[rightfully]

ᴡʜᴏ: Lucina! And you!
ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ: All around the Temple of Beginnings.
ᴡʜᴇɴ: Early October, pre-caves.
ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ: G - PG at most.
ᴡʜᴀᴛ: Whatever your heart desires. Also: prompts below the cut.


» ғɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ ʀɪɴɢ.

[ Getting used to this new existence with its promise of effort - a home she hadn't exactly asked for, but wasn't complaining over - Lucina certainly can't allow her forms to slacken or her muscles to grow lazy with disuse. The two-handed sword is her weapon of choice, typically, although she has trained on other things (thank you, Fire Emblem Heroes)—today, Falchion is loyally in her hands.

...Metaphorically loyally. She still likes to believe her inherited sword is loyal to her, the way it picks and chooses among Naga's scions with a finesse that borders on cruel.

Why would that be in doubt?

Well, the training dummy has managed to disarm her and refuses to let go. Falchion protrudes from the left hand it mysteriously has, wooden fingers wrapped around the hilt.

She has been trying to get it to relinquish the blade for the past ten minutes. Kicking it does not work. Striking it in center mass does not work.

(Walking away will work, but that's not in Lucina's repetoire. Hopefully someone will suggest that to her.)

Maybe... maybe begging will work? ]

Please return Falchion to me.

[ Stony, smiling silence. Ridiculously, Lucina's voice cracks like a whip. ] It will not even work for you! [ Who would like to walk onto this mess? ]

» ᴋɪᴛᴄʜᴇɴs.

[ Fortunately, Lucina is at least somewhat familiar with rationing, although life here is hardly comparable to the ascetic necessity of her sundered future. She knows precisely how much a person can live on without losing too much muscle mass - getting to prepare her meals beyond that limitation is a luxury she's still growing used to. She has yet to eat the alloted breakfast portion in its entirety without saving a little over for lunch, but with all the sickness going around (and her own arguable bout, that she denies and affirms in turn—Lords Don't Get Sick, except when they do) she's put a little extra energy in ensuring people are fed.

This prompt will not be as long as the previous one.

As soon as someone enters, she smiles over at them from her position above an oven. A large pot bubbles placidly, efficiently stewed meats lending an edible aroma to the air. ]

Good day, friend. Would you care for some soup?

[ She... she doesn't really know how to make anything else. ]

» ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ.

( Anything else! Lucina can likely be found making herself useful in whatever degree, training in the fighting ring, or wandering the forest. If you'd like to plot something, feel free to hit me up via PM to this account, but I'm usually down for whatever. c: )

Comments

fighting ring

[besieging]

[ If there's one place Ephraim can easily and regularly be found, it'd definitely the fighting ring.

And Lucina's training, whenever he happens to catch her at it, gets a bit more attention from him than most, he is unashamed to admit - because it's hard not to be impressed by someone who took him out in their first match, despite having the disadvantage of weapon type. (The weapons triangle is a thing, after all! An important thing! And Lucina made it her bitch. He loves that.) ]

This being a combat situation, I suppose that diplomacy works no better on this than on most foes.

[rightfully]

No, I suppose not.

[ Disarmed as she is, Lucina hardly feels formidable. Her hand hovers at an empty spot at her hip, near where Falchion's hilt would be if it was still in its scabbard. The effect is decidedly more awkward without something to fill the space there.

Belatedly, she gives him a glance over her shoulder - eyes flickering back to the dummy briefly, and then settling on Ephraim more surely. ]

Good morning, Ephraim. [ Executive decision: it's morning. ] This must look fairly underwhelming. [ Her smile indicates she isn't nearly as bothered by that prospect as she could be. ]

[besieging]

[ I'm going to start writing like it's evening now just in protest - ]

Good morning.

[ Or not. ]

Underwhelming to a stranger, perhaps, but I've seen enough to know better.

[ And it was quite whelming. ]

1/2

[rightfully]

[ !!! ]

That's kind of you to say.

[ Her smile stays, rare in and of itself, but there's a slight abashed quality to it that she hides behind a hand (basically her icon) - ]

[rightfully]

[ ... but - already bored of this chatter - the dummy strikes out with Falchion anew. It is imprecise as a stone in the hands of anyone not branded, yes, but that doesn't mean it won't pack a punch if used as, say, a blunt instrument and not a sword. That's exactly what happens as its pommel sweeps downward toward them.

Lucina doesn't hesitate to jerk out of the way, rolling on instinct and landing in a safe crouch, leaving Ephraim entirely open to take the blow.

(Sorry, bro.) ]

[besieging]

[ Usually, he is better about this kind of thing. But then, the problem with this kind of an opponent is that it doesn't really care or acknowledge that he, in fact, did not intend on stepping into Lucina's bout and becoming an opponent, and while a human would probably have known better (or, at the very least, would've been obvious about whether they were enough of a dick to attack anyway), the dummy doesn't offer any signs that it's expanding its target area.

It just moves.

And unfortunately, so does Lucina, and still more unfortunately, Siegmund is down by his side, held only loosely in one hand and not at all ready for a quick block. So the dummy's attack speeds onward, unimpeded, until it makes contact -

- right between Ephraim's legs. ]

?!

[ It's hard to tell what Ephraim says in reaction. It's hard to tell if he actually said anything, or if that was just a noise.

It was nothing happy, that much is clear! ]

[rightfully]

[ holy shit, thinks someone - not lucina, surely ]

[ Honestly, there will be no end of remorse and apologies after this. The sight of Falchion swinging, um, low is disquieting enough. Even though it isn't currently useful as a fine instrument, it looks as though it is. The sight of its point careening toward there is enough to strike fear into the heart of any man, Lucina imagines.

In the dummy's hand, it's no more effective than a poorly maintained club... which is to say, it still likely hurts quite a bit! Like a mother, if you will. The idea that it was Falchion, loyal Falchion, that harmed her friend in this way is unconscionable, offending her sensibilities in all the worst ways.

Rising from her defensive crouch, she's... a bit torn what to do now, honestly. She'd like to disarm the dummy, but - ]

Ephraim?

[ gods is he dead

She leans over a bit, trying to peer at his face, wherever it may be. ]

Are you alright?

[besieging]

[ Well, he's...not curled up in the fetal position, to his credit, but he's doubled over on his knees and Siegmund has fallen to ground, forgotten in favor of his other spear.

He opens his mouth and - doesn't answer, at first. Takes a couple of deep breaths. ]

I - think so.

[ Hopefully the future heirs of Renais will recover from this, too. ]

[rightfully]

[ Lucina is nothing but sympathetic, her frown apologetic and nearly worried. With one gentle hand on his back, she picks up Siegmund with the other one. He'll not want it left there once he comes back to himself, she thinks. ]

Come.

[ If he can be urged up, she'll try, directing his attention to a bench nearby. ]

Take a seat. [ Or... or just lie down. ] I'll get you some ice.

[ As soon as her attention is taken away from the training mannequin, it gives up the effort as it is enchanted to do, and Falchion clatters noisily to the ground. So, in a way, he succeeded in helping her! ...It takes all her willpower not to immediately go and get her blade; somehow - somehow - she succeeds. ]

[besieging]

[ He makes it the bench, albeit haltingly, and somewhere at the back of the mind he notices that she doesn't go straight to retrieve Falchion, which would probably be flattering if he had the presence of mind to actually think about that with any level of actual depth.

He's not quite there yet. ]

[rightfully]

[ That's fine. Once she's sure he's seated and not in harm's way anymore, she leans Siegmund beside him and goes to collect Falchion. She couldn't leave it lying in the dust of the training grounds for more than a minute or two, for obvious reasons, and it feels good to have it back with her - even if Ephraim had to suffer a man un-making blow for it to happen.

Poor guy. She feels remarkably guilty for what he suffered, knowing full well she could have warned him or taken the blow herself without nearly as much recourse. Instead, she had responded on singular instinct... She's always been somewhat of a solo fighter, despite Robin's best efforts.

There will be apologies, but - it's probably best she thinks and acts in a more practical fashion first. Letting him know she'll be right back, she hurries down the steps and toward the interior of the temple.

Approximately five minutes later, she returns. In hand, a chipped off block of ice, no bigger than a man's palm, wrapped in a soft towel.

(She may be, uh, overestimating the area he needs to... let's say tend to.) ]

Here.

[ Somewhat gingerly, she sits down beside, polite inches (and Siegmund) between them. Her eyes never leave his face. ]

I'm so sorry that happened, Ephraim. It was never my intention for you to endures such harm because of my error.

[besieging]

[ He manages a smile (albeit a strained one) as he accepts the ice and...er, positions it. ]

Well, I did say it was a combat situation.

[ Ergo, he probably should've considered it a combat situation he was in, and been prepared accordingly. And he can hardly fault another warrior for instinctively avoiding a blow. (Support levels need to be built up before that evade bonus kicks in!) ]

[rightfully]

[ Her eyes remain on his face but for, uh, rather different reasons now. It's difficult for the clucking mother hen in her to not make sure he's tending to his injury properly, but that would involve looking right at his groin and - and let's just not, okay. Let's not. ]

... [ She smiles in turn, hoping to relax him, and says - ] I once tried to catch a sword with my bare hand.

[ Rolling up the glove of her left hand, she shows him a thin, white scar across her palm. It's healed clean and shiny, but unlikely to ever go away. ]

My instructor chided me quite fiercely for my foolishness, and correctly so.

[ See! Everyone has embarrassing combat situation tales! ]

[besieging]

I think I had more scoldings from General Duessel than I care to count.

[ Sometimes in the same breath as Duessel was praising him, even! ]

- though I can't say I ever earned one by that means.

[rightfully]

[ Lucina doesn't even get a canonical teacher. Let's assume it was Frederick - in addition to being her nanny probably. She puts her glove back on. ]

That's who taught you how to wield the spear?

[ Teehee. ]

[besieging]

[ Frederick in a nanny's outfit demonstrating a proper sword swing is a mental image to be treasured. ]

Yes. One of the finest soldiers Grado ever had. [ He scratches his head and looks to the side, slightly embarrassed. ] I could barely hold a spear when I met him, but I still tried to challenge him. I was down in three hits, and I suspect the first two were a matter of pity rather than skill or luck.

[rightfully]

[ Very kindly, she refrains from pointing out that the dummy took him down in one hit. ]

I could not even lift the broadswords I wished to be trained in when I began.

You surpassed him eventually, didn’t you?

[ no one ever told her about assumptions, it seems ]

[besieging]

[ That was not a fair fight, thankyouverymuch. ]

I have defeated him, at least. He says he's nothing left to teach me.

[ Ephraim...is not quite sure he's willing to accept that, himself, but he's certainly come a long way, at the very least. He doesn't want to think he's hit a peak, though. He can still be better. ]

[rightfully]

That's very impressive to hear from one's own combat tutor.

[ She shrugs, looking as young as she is - and, for once, calmly untroubled. ]

Sir Frederick chafes at having little left to teach me. He has me arranging pebbles for mental clarity now.

[besieging]

Arranging pebbles, really?

[ That's...uh. That's one way to do it? Not a way any of his teachers have ever recommended, certainly. ]

Does...it work?

[rightfully]

[ Here, she laughs, and it's a rare unstifled display of it. Good memories, innocent memories, the sort that bring her joy like this... They're rare. She chooses to take as much gladness in that as she can. ]

Not at all.

But - one never can question Sir Frederick's devotion to my family.

[besieging]

[ That's...a really nice laugh. She seems so restrained most of the time. ]

You're blessed to have such a vassal.

[ He knows the type. Well, mostly, given that Seth never got into anything as weird as pebble-pushing, but. That kind of devotion, a knight who will go to any lengths for your family without a moment's thought - that's something to treasure. ]

[rightfully]

[ As if on cue, Lucina returns to a manner that’s more politely restrained. ]

How are you, um— How is your injury?

[ Glances right down at where the ice is positioned ]




[ Looks straight up at the sky ]

[besieging]

[ As soon as the conversation returns to his dick, he's rather definitely avoiding eye contact, himself. ]

The ice is helping considerably.

[rightfully]

That's good. I'm relieved to hear it.

[ Yup, just... Just admiring the landscape. Quite, uh, quite peaceful. A tumbleweed may or may not drift by, carried on a lone breeze. Cool. ]

...

[ ????

Anything to add, Lucina?



Nope, apparently not. ]