[she doesn't know that the world is turning just for her]

skill: [none]

---

He responded well to her theorizing about how hunting knowledge was akin to plant knowledge, and inwardly, Euphemia smiled. Outwardly she smiled too, and the maiden did her best to keep this expression calm, smooth and supple. He seemed to want to chat as much as she wanted to chat, and it was nice to be met in the same way. It was more customary for her to enter into some sort of disagreement, for everyone always seemed to disagree with her.

She wasn’t like Aurelia and Tiberii, who everyone followed without questions. She wasn’t like Dalmatia, who had everyone falling all over her with hearts in their eyes. She was Euphemia, forgettable at best.

But at that moment, she was Euphemia, being spun like sugar at the attention of another. He mentioned an entire array of maladies that had befallen him, not a single one of which Euphemia had experienced herself, and it was quite a moment of awakening for the woman – of reckoning? With the fact that she had done so little and seen so little, though she had been fairly convinced up until now that she was both experienced and worldly.

Euphemia wondered then what Ric saw in her, and what kept his feet on the earth near to hers. She couldn’t match him in his charm or wit, nor his stories and experience – and yet, she felt good in the face of that realization. She simpered as she listened, suddenly knowing that if she could not experience such things in life, then it was the next best thing to have them shared unto her; and at this moment, this stranger from the mists was her ticket to something wild and untamed;

and, best yet, she had no idea how long it would last.

The maiden was determined not to let her self consciousness show. There’s nothing I don’t want to hear, she retorted wryly, at his own recognition of her relative innocence. Oh, how her cheeks blazed to hear him say it! As if she was a delicate thing, a breakable thing, when she knew she was in fact a resilient soul, one that might be able to keep up with a man like him, if ever given the chance.

You said to pick one, right? she referred to his brief list earlier, of all the things that he had since recovered from. Fights, accidents, dumb luck, poor choices. All of those things that gave other people their color, the lack of which made her boring. Well, I pick… poor choices. There was a glimmer in her eye that would suggest that she was toeing a line – ironically, as a matter of fact, for she wished to prove him wrong. Prove that she was a resolute and reliable woman, indeed.

C’mon, shatter my reality.

---

Skill : 「 None */5 」

---

For the briefest moment, Alaric stared quietly at her. Not in confusion or annoyance, but because he hadn’t expected the soft, little plant-girl to reply in such a way. Her voice was velvet, her posture gentle, and yet she managed to throw him words that sounded like a playfully-dangerous dare. Shatter her reality? Really?

A chill raced down his spine, tingling in a way that carved a devious smile upon his maw. Oh, he was going to have fun with this one. She had more fire in her than he’d anticipated, which made it all a bit more entertaining for him. Ric’s tongue glided over his teeth as his eyes took in Phia’s appearance once more, staking it to his memory. No more was he lazily grazing across her existence beside him, he had a new, sharpened interest—an interest she had lured out of him.

Well now, the man’s tongue tsk-ed, the amused grin still curled on his lips. Look at you, willing to hear the realities of the big, scary world, Alaric hummed, angling his head to hang low, close to her own. How far was too far? Maybe talking about the bitch he’d attacked nearby wouldn’t be a good idea, just in case Phia decided to utilize it against him.

His teeth flashed—fuller than just a smile—a tease, a test, a warning. Keep in mind, sweetheart. These ain’t just stories, they’re me. In all his stupid, selfish glory.

Poor choices. Poor choices. Poor choices. Every choice was poor, at this point—at least the ones Ric made.

In my old world I fucked with a bear because I had nothin’ better to do an’ almost died. Did it again in this world, but here it was a cougar, he shrugged, half of his scars were likely from those incidents. Fucked around in a storm an’ got caught in a rock slide. Almost died then, too, simple, poor choices. But these weren’t really bad were they?

Tried to fall in love, his voice that was previously playful or almost distant was now cold and sharp, as if his personality shifted entirely. The bitch called another guy’s name in her sleep… A sound he would never forget. Fuck them. So I nearly killed her, it wasn’t totally his fault, at least. He tried to leave after calling her a slew of names and throwing baseless accusations but she stood in his way and there was only one way out.

She’s still alive, as if the “attempted” part in attempted murder made it okay. At least, I think she is. a small shrug.

[she doesn't know that the world is turning just for her]

skill: [none]

---

Euphemia was, for all intents and purposes, a strong soul. Emotional to a fault, sure – but for all the hardship she must endure, she did so with a stiff upper lip and tail held high. For those hardships she did not have to endure, Euphemia nurtured a keen sense of gratitude. For the most part, Euphemia felt as if this was enough in life. She needn’t guilt herself for the ways her life was simple and clean, just as she needn’t let her many emotional wounds fester.

There was something that registered as strange in Euphemia’s mind. Even an ingenue such as she could recognize a sense of arrogant pride in his voice, as he did as she bade and recounted each of his poor choices. He seemed to relish in the thrill of danger – and that was what made her question if perhaps she had actually suffered worse experiences than he. Ric seemed to handle his anxiety poorly.

For Euphemia had much to lose, and understood well the pain she would face if she lost it.

And here this man was, inviting into his life copious amounts of pain, loss, and suffering. Did he not feel? Did he have nothing close to his heart that he wished to protect? Was he so inexperienced in the loss of love that he sought to play out its most egregious moments, which were so eerily similar to the hopes and dreams that she relished and kept always close in mind? She, too, thought of these things: what it would feel like to love another so deeply to fight bears and great fires and navigate the shifting earth to protect them.

Only love, or the severe lack of it, could drive someone to such behaviors.

The Maiden could recognize that they both desired intensity, and their only difference was that Ric acted on his desires and she did not. As he had said himself, these were not just stories. These were him.

Fascinating.

If she had known that this was the first time in the conversation that Ric had felt somewhat truly interested in her, she might have found it less fascinating and proceeded to recuse herself, but instead she listened on, endeared and drawn in by the intensity of his tales. He seemed to like retelling them, and Euphemia did easily assume that many of these were hyperbole – in his own weird way, he was trying to impress her. After all, it made no sense to kill those you claimed to love.

Unable to move past that point, Euphemia furrowed her brow and looked up at him with eyes of a woman who was internally battling her way through several conflicting learnings. At the moment, they all astounded her and kept her firmly planted in that spot. She needed to know more. Why didn't he and this female simply... break up?

If you loved her… the silver shewolf questioned demurely, hoping he would not take offense, Why would you try to kill her?

---

Skill : 「 None */5 」

---

For the first time since the start of their interaction, Alaric’s expression failed to sharpen. His lips did not pull into a devious grin and there was no mischief dancing behind his molten-colored gaze, instead his features seemed to still. Phia had touched down upon something she was never meant to be aware of, at least that was how Ric felt.

His ear twitched faintly, a subconscious cue he had heard the words she’d spoken. His face was cold and unreadable, and she had no idea it was a sign to be fearful of—the calm before the storm, so to speak.

Loved? a one-word question, a simple repeat of the word she’d used. It tasted rotten on his tongue, but his voice was not mocking nor aggravated. If anything, Ric’s tone was frightfully hollow.

He looked at her then, his level of focus heightened and direct. Alaric felt his body shift, adjusting to carefully watch her. There was a subtle intensity there, as if Phia had asked him something forbidden, but he wasn’t going to let her simply walk away from such a topic. The claws of his own reality had already sunk into him, anchoring him there and now she would be anchored, too.

Alaric drew in a small breath through his nose, the tension in his shoulders ebbing away slightly. Love doesn’t mean much. She made me feel like a fool. his jaw clenched after the words escaped his mouth. The tension that riddled his body was evident, even his toes curled until his nails dug into the earth.

His shoulders lifted into a shrug, but it was different this time. Earlier it had been loose and nonchalant, but this time the stiffness of the motion didn’t suit him and his care-free mask. When someone makes you feel small… when they make you feel like you’re not enough—

Sharply, Alaric’s teeth clicked shut, stopping himself from saying anymore. The action was quick and almost frantic, like he’d revealed things he shouldn’t have. The Crane allowed his attention to shift toward the open plains, settling on the empty horizon.

He cleared his throat and shrugged once more, this time a bit more convincingly, as if he reminded himself who he was playing as. Point is… Ya lash out, or at least, I do. I don’t do the whole beggin’, pleadin’, mournin’, “why don’t you love me” bullshit. I get angry. I get stupid. I yell. I bite before I think, What was the point in needing to beg someone to love you? Alaric knew by now that love wasn’t for everyone, especially him.

Alaric growled quietly to himself, visions of Mauve flashing in his mind. She stood in my way, tried stoppin’ me after she broke me. After she said my name like it meant somethin’ and then went off to moan some asshole’s name in her dreams… a single cackle left him, but fury was burning in his gaze. He was still so fucking pissed.

I shoved her, and she shoved back. I snarled, I snapped, I wanted to get the fuck away from her. But she wouldn’t let me, so she learned the hard way, Alaric fucking hate that day, it did nothing but annoy him to recall it all.

With an irritated huff, Alaric shot a glance towards Phia, wondering how the girl might handle it all. Well, now you know what you’re dealin’ with, plant girl. Whatcha think?

[she doesn't know that the world is turning just for her]

skill: [none]

---

Love doesn’t mean much.

And there it was, the not-so-silent confirmation of everything Euphemia thought she knew; had learned from her parents who preferred their own pain so deeply that they, in effect, ignored the pain of their children. Had learned it from Vidarr who was married a million times over but never even seemed to glance her way. Had learned it when Aurelia voted for Nottin as the Pillar of Courage. Learned it from the sheer abuse she had seen in the world, perpetrated on the weak by the strong.

It was one of the world’s most enduring truths, that love didn’t mean much.

What meant a lot to Euphemia was to feel validated. In a reality where she felt so vastly different and less than her sisters, here was someone – a grown man – who was telling her that she was right. Not only was she right, but he agreed with her and lived his life according to such values. Certainly, it wasn’t proper behavior to go around thrashing women, but he was certainly standing for his beliefs.

In contrast, Euphemia let her unspoken discomfort suffocate her.

If love didn’t mean much, then the truth was that the fangs that killed were forever concealed just behind the same lips that kissed. It was this unsettling truth that the maiden felt grateful to receive.

Euphemia was the daughter of a man who lashed out. She was a woman who lashed out, even if it was only with words a shade of a pitch too high to be taken seriously. The shadowed man before her seemed so real, his features and emotions painted in sharp, dramatic relief against the muteness of their surroundings. The land was quiet, but he was vivid.

She began, ever so slowly, to admire him. For a moment, Euphemia believed she had glanced at the truest part of him. For better or for worse, she could see herself in him: ever-wounded, and ever-waiting to be healed.

Euphemia would never shove him. She would never betray her chosen one by calling them the name of another, in a tone only meant for lovers. I’m so sorry, Ric, She held her voice low, sincere. Unjudging only in the way empathy can be.

I’m sorry she made you feel like that.

Her gaze fell, trying to remain focused on him, actively stymying the memories that arose from her own experience. She took a deep breath, not wanting to glance over the violent nature of his admission – but he had taken responsibility, and Euphemia had a persistent belief that most hurts could be redeemed, if only their perpetrators took radical responsibility.

I think… Euphemia couldn't help but remain heartfelt, even as he transitioned back to sarcasm. I think you’re doing the best you can. Then she looked up at him, big sorrowful sunset eyes set aglisten with tears, wondering if such simple words could actually capture the depth of emotion and awakefulness he had made her feel.

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