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acatalepsy_logs2018-10-02 06:09 pm
rightfully) wrote in acatalepsy_logs2018-10-02 06:09 pm
open.
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: )
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 (
...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: )
no subject
it doesn't occur to him, really, that someone might want to just ... be somewhere else, start something new, exist beyond the constraints of family. he assumes, quite simply, that she died. )
Well. ( his tone's a bit on the soft side. ) Maybe she'll end up here.
no subject
That would be nice.
[ A sister, or another sister, or a brother - whomever of her interchangeable siblings from her dating sim canon arrives!
...Anyway. ]
Perhaps your brother could help keep her out of trouble.
no subject
Uhhh... Bo's not really the go-to guy if you're trying to keep out of trouble. He's sort of a magnet for it.
no subject
If he had someone more rambunctious than him to look after, that might temper him.
[ Or she just might be trying, prematurely, to pawn off her sister.
Fifty-fifty. ]
no subject
he exhales a bit, steady and even, and takes a bite of a dumpling while he thinks. )
I guess it might. That's sort of what happened back home anyway, so. Might as well keep the trend.
no subject
[ Cynthia (or whomever!) is hardly a child anymore either, but Lucina has yet to let go of that older sibling mentality. Leaving certainly hasn't tempered it, nor - it seems - has finding herself here. She still frets. ...Sometimes. Other times, she's quite distracted, and that world feels so far away now. It never takes Lucina long to get used to being elsewhere.
As... as a princess, and an heir to Ylisse in her own right, Cynthia deserves a chance out of Lucina's shadow. It's fine. ]
Are you angry at him for his, um, announcement?
[ The word is broadcast. (She doesn't know it.) ]