Pretzel Heart
Afterimage of Broad Daylight
Veilvel Ealisaid ❆ Blake Sheru
❆ Time: After Chapter 1
❆ Location: Village in Dinne
❆ Support Level: C
❆ Location: Village in Dinne
❆ Support Level: C
Last edited:
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Fantasy Fire Emblem Divide: Veilvel x Blake
- Thread starter Pretzel Heart
- Start date
Pretzel Heart
Afterimage of Broad Daylight
Veilvel felt as if he had earned himself a nice break. After all, despite some...unforeseen challenges, the battalion's campaign had been more or less a success. He had also made some strides in taking care of the so-called Commander, S`Zura, and his chances of taking the title for himself seemed satisfyingly high. Though a small voice somewhere deep in the most desolate reaches of his heart pricked him with thoughts of guilt, that he needn't go so far in his persecution of a woman who had been ill-equipped for her assigned job and was only doing her best under the pressure of war, he did his best to brush such thoughts aside, as he always did. Others' incompetence wasn't his fault, after all. And it wasn't as if he himself had ever felt the need to lead. But if that is what it took to crush Malth, then he could gladly accept the title.
In any case, a bit of relaxation seemed in order.
He couldn't even recall the last time he had let himself unwind. Certainly not since being chased from Malth...from the moment Calfuray's pearly claws had dug into the earth of Glypheitch soil there hadn't been a moment's rest. Getting used to Glypheim, then Dinne, singing up for the Legion, planning the taking of Fort Castellum...it had all required the constant attention of his swelling acuity. And Veilvel hadn't had any issue with giving his new cause thus. It wasn't as if he needed much to be comfortable, after all. He preferred his evenings quiet, spent in contemplation or atop Calfuray's back. Not too quiet, for then he might get to thinking about things that were...unpleasant. Demons that continued to chase him from long ago. But enough to let him decompress into a good logic puzzle, or perhaps a new book on military tactics. Add in a glass of fine liquor, and it was all he could really ask for.
But today he had decided to be unusually adventurous. There was the success of his first battle, and he couldn't deny that single-handedly killing one of the dreaded Blood Dragons was cause for celebration. Even now its remains sat proudly outside his tent, and he was planning to get them appraised and the proper parts preserved on the morrow. But for today, he had time to burn. And he had to spend his money somehow. A rumor going around camp spoke of a small village within walking distance to the east that afforded a special kind of natural hot spring which was his aim for the afternoon. He had read that such bathes were extremely good for the health of both body and mind, and as he would soon be needing to throw himself back into his work, it seemed the perfect way to both reward himself and get ahead.
There was also the matter of the arrow wound he had received courtesy of the damned gargoyle. Although the little Naga-loving healer girl had done an acceptable job at sealing it, there was still something of a sore spot whenever he put a hand to his side. So he was hoping a few hours' soak would help.
Having decided that Calfuray, despite his acting up during the battle, had also earned himself some down time, Veilvel awkwardly made his way through the dunes in the villages' pointed direction. He wasn't used to walking long distances, let alone across the desert, so it was a slow and somewhat frustrating start. The dry air kicking up specks of sand into his face and clothes did little to soften his mood, though it reassured him that he had made the right call in his atypically liberal dress, wearing none of his familiar accoutrements- save for the ubiquitous eye patch, of course. He hated not having his mantle and armor, and perhaps it was foolish to be thus exposed, but he was hardly going far from camp, and they were deep into Legion territory. And frankly, he was more worried about one of the peasants sifting through his pockets while he was undressed than getting attacked. So not only was he dressed light, but he was traveling light, with only a belt containing a pouch of coins and a small hatchet - more than sufficient to kill a man, if it came down to it.
But surely he wouldn't have to worry about any of that on his day off.
In any case, a bit of relaxation seemed in order.
He couldn't even recall the last time he had let himself unwind. Certainly not since being chased from Malth...from the moment Calfuray's pearly claws had dug into the earth of Glypheitch soil there hadn't been a moment's rest. Getting used to Glypheim, then Dinne, singing up for the Legion, planning the taking of Fort Castellum...it had all required the constant attention of his swelling acuity. And Veilvel hadn't had any issue with giving his new cause thus. It wasn't as if he needed much to be comfortable, after all. He preferred his evenings quiet, spent in contemplation or atop Calfuray's back. Not too quiet, for then he might get to thinking about things that were...unpleasant. Demons that continued to chase him from long ago. But enough to let him decompress into a good logic puzzle, or perhaps a new book on military tactics. Add in a glass of fine liquor, and it was all he could really ask for.
But today he had decided to be unusually adventurous. There was the success of his first battle, and he couldn't deny that single-handedly killing one of the dreaded Blood Dragons was cause for celebration. Even now its remains sat proudly outside his tent, and he was planning to get them appraised and the proper parts preserved on the morrow. But for today, he had time to burn. And he had to spend his money somehow. A rumor going around camp spoke of a small village within walking distance to the east that afforded a special kind of natural hot spring which was his aim for the afternoon. He had read that such bathes were extremely good for the health of both body and mind, and as he would soon be needing to throw himself back into his work, it seemed the perfect way to both reward himself and get ahead.
There was also the matter of the arrow wound he had received courtesy of the damned gargoyle. Although the little Naga-loving healer girl had done an acceptable job at sealing it, there was still something of a sore spot whenever he put a hand to his side. So he was hoping a few hours' soak would help.
Having decided that Calfuray, despite his acting up during the battle, had also earned himself some down time, Veilvel awkwardly made his way through the dunes in the villages' pointed direction. He wasn't used to walking long distances, let alone across the desert, so it was a slow and somewhat frustrating start. The dry air kicking up specks of sand into his face and clothes did little to soften his mood, though it reassured him that he had made the right call in his atypically liberal dress, wearing none of his familiar accoutrements- save for the ubiquitous eye patch, of course. He hated not having his mantle and armor, and perhaps it was foolish to be thus exposed, but he was hardly going far from camp, and they were deep into Legion territory. And frankly, he was more worried about one of the peasants sifting through his pockets while he was undressed than getting attacked. So not only was he dressed light, but he was traveling light, with only a belt containing a pouch of coins and a small hatchet - more than sufficient to kill a man, if it came down to it.
But surely he wouldn't have to worry about any of that on his day off.
Necromantic
You faker than some Sweet 'N Low
No matter how many times he went to Dinne, Blake was pretty sure he would never actually get used to the blazing heat and scorching sun. It was so different from that of Malth, so... hot. He missed the snow, sand just wasn't the same. Truth be told, he would've liked to go back to his home, but the war had been making that difficult. The weak had no place in the harsh climate, especially not now. The last time he had gone there, he had only been there a few days and just narrowly avoided being enslaved by some soldiers. His only saving grace had been the people he'd payed to protect him and him being able to make a quick getaway. He was missing at least half of what he had been selling, and he didn't anticipate being able to get them back. It was better than being worked to death, though. It had only been a couple months since he'd been there, but he was sure there wasn't anybody chasing after him...
Most likely.
Now, if he didn't die of fucking heatstroke, he was pretty sure it'd be a miracle. He leaned back against the bench he was sitting on and tugged at the collar of his shirt. The tree shading the area he sat wasn't really helping. Naga, did he hate this place. His clothes were covered in sweat, it'd take him forever to wash that out...
Generally, he'd start trying to scam people into buying what he sold the moment he entered a Kingdom, but it always took him about a few days to actually manage to start doing so when it came to this damned sweltering hot desert. Due to this, in addition to being uncomfortable, he was immensely bored. Maybe... Maybe doing something would help? It wouldn't change the fact that he was hot and probably... definitely... starting to get a sunburn, but it would alleviate some of the overwhelming boredom. He reached into a pouch and pulled out a coin. Alright... Heads, he did something, tails, he continued to yearn for death on the bench.
With a flick of his thumb the coin was in the air, and he caught it on the back of his hand. He uncovered it and grimaced at what he saw. Heads. Fate wasn't going to let him sit on the bench and hope something came along that ended his suffering. Blake contemplated whether or not he should really listen to a small piece of metal before actually standing up. The coin probably had a point, he needed some water if he wanted to continue living. The village he was in wasn't particularly large, it wouldn't take him long to find some water and then continue yearning for death. Hell, he could multitask, he could still yearn for desire his demise while he walked.
How did the Dinesse live in this damned sweltering heat?
Soon enough, a familiar face came into his line of sight. It wasn't what he was searching for, but he certainly recognized the guy that was practically a celebrity in Malth. What could Veilvel being doing in such a... Hot... climate, though? Blake's visits to Malth had been very few ever since the war started, but he still hadn't heard of the elf leaving his home territory. Had something happened? Some sort of vacation to the damned hottest place in Terrunum?
....
Veilvel was shorter than Blake had thought he'd be.
Most likely.
Now, if he didn't die of fucking heatstroke, he was pretty sure it'd be a miracle. He leaned back against the bench he was sitting on and tugged at the collar of his shirt. The tree shading the area he sat wasn't really helping. Naga, did he hate this place. His clothes were covered in sweat, it'd take him forever to wash that out...
Generally, he'd start trying to scam people into buying what he sold the moment he entered a Kingdom, but it always took him about a few days to actually manage to start doing so when it came to this damned sweltering hot desert. Due to this, in addition to being uncomfortable, he was immensely bored. Maybe... Maybe doing something would help? It wouldn't change the fact that he was hot and probably... definitely... starting to get a sunburn, but it would alleviate some of the overwhelming boredom. He reached into a pouch and pulled out a coin. Alright... Heads, he did something, tails, he continued to yearn for death on the bench.
With a flick of his thumb the coin was in the air, and he caught it on the back of his hand. He uncovered it and grimaced at what he saw. Heads. Fate wasn't going to let him sit on the bench and hope something came along that ended his suffering. Blake contemplated whether or not he should really listen to a small piece of metal before actually standing up. The coin probably had a point, he needed some water if he wanted to continue living. The village he was in wasn't particularly large, it wouldn't take him long to find some water and then continue yearning for death. Hell, he could multitask, he could still yearn for desire his demise while he walked.
How did the Dinesse live in this damned sweltering heat?
Soon enough, a familiar face came into his line of sight. It wasn't what he was searching for, but he certainly recognized the guy that was practically a celebrity in Malth. What could Veilvel being doing in such a... Hot... climate, though? Blake's visits to Malth had been very few ever since the war started, but he still hadn't heard of the elf leaving his home territory. Had something happened? Some sort of vacation to the damned hottest place in Terrunum?
....
Veilvel was shorter than Blake had thought he'd be.
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