Kinruush
Who?
- Location
- USA
Oh, hey, someone else switched to Melanie. Alas poor Wendy, we knew her sorta.
On the Road to Elspar [Book 1] (Dryad Mercenary Schoolgirl Quest)
- Thread starter Kei
- Start date
- Original Fantasy
Oh, hey, someone else switched to Melanie. Alas poor Wendy, we knew her sorta.
Mother Nyx
Mother of Elpis
- Location
- The Kei Klub
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Lmao, maybe in the future. Possibly. I'm happy with our current line up.
- Elizabeth Irivich Zabanya aka Lisa of the Lightning. (I heard that this is the Bad End but IDC, lmao.)
- Lucille Lorraine Celestia aka She Who Will Lead. (Can we just... give her all the hugs?)
- Stephanie aka Lady Fire Swords (You call her Stephanie? I call her Headphanie!)
- Melanie Aster aka Elizabeth Bathory Expy #2 (Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken.)
- Azalea Cherilyn Charmaine aka The Other Dyrad Mercenary (Can you tell I don't really care about her?)
AnonymousRabbit
Rabbit Faced
Very happy. Much content. Delicious slice of life.
Neianne 1
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super kudos to @Lazy Minx for commissioning it and for soojin paek for accepting the commission pls check out her tumblr and her twitter we now return to your regularly scheduled screaming
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super kudos to @Lazy Minx for commissioning it and for soojin paek for accepting the commission pls check out her tumblr and her twitter we now return to your regularly scheduled screaming
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AnonymousRabbit
Rabbit Faced
Berserk Armor.
We need a Berserk Armor. Somebody get us a Berserk Armor.
We need a Berserk Armor. Somebody get us a Berserk Armor.
- Pronouns
- They/Them
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super kudos to @Lazy Minx for commissioning it and for soojin paek for accepting the commission pls check out her tumblr and her twitter we now return to your regularly scheduled screaming
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In celebration, do a scene for every single person who got even a single vote.
- Location
- Nova Scotia
- Pronouns
- She/Her
please don't kill kei, this is the only one i haveIn celebration, do a scene for every single person who got even a single vote.
Mother Nyx
Mother of Elpis
- Location
- The Kei Klub
- Pronouns
- She/Her
My absolute favorite parts of the art are her hair and the sword, of course. I love who cute she came out though. I think her personality comes out pretty clear.
Lisa is next. I'd put it to a vote who should be after her, if the thread would be interested in that, lmao.
Lisa is next. I'd put it to a vote who should be after her, if the thread would be interested in that, lmao.
Spectrum
Tell me a secret~
- Location
- Behind you~
*wince* They're just first years, I take it that triage hasn't been part of their curriculum yet.
Honestly, Wilhelmina's still helping. Someone staying dispassionate while you're evaluating options is important.
...and there it is. Large sucking chest wounds, even with magic, tend not to leave someone long for the world.
Or at least cover her with a blanket, sheesh!
Oof. I get the sense of commoner-noble tensions just from that. And that's both not even the entire context and, again, triage.
As will be evident, everyone copes in different ways.
...oh.
Is this what Elizabeth was alluding to before?
That seems vaguely...erotic.
Keeeeeeeeeeeeei, what are you doing I thought you didn't need Patreon only content now with your new job
And speak of the devil...*breaks up laughing*
Yes! Progress! Or some kind of benchmark!
...well, something anyway.
Hey now, Neianne demonstrates plenty of hardwork, y'know.
Also: the very obvious POV of a genius
Missing quote at the start
Or who holds the necks of other people like a lover, at least.
...
...wait, is she flirting with Melanie?
She might also be worried about starting to enjoy it and looking to do it more...
(Also, obligatory: Be a professional, kids. You don't want to enjoy this sort of thing too much or you risk getting sloppy.)
Oh she is totally doing something here
I ship it
Yes, right here, I do declare, you can't stop me.
Yeah, she totally wants some of that.
Pfffbbbt
They might not, but you can't just say that!
*winces* It hasn't been a fun past few years for Aphelia and it's not going to be a fun next few years for her either.
Also, somehow, I get kind of a vague Weiss from RWBY vibe from her off this.
Typo
*cackles*
Okay, but now how about someone go commission the scene of her going after the wyvern.
*fleeeees*
----
But seriously, c'mon, Vesna totally shows why she needs some love here. A lot of the others are in hand in some fashion but we should meet up with her for some non-healer support.
Incredibly adorable!aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
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super kudos to @Lazy Minx for commissioning it and for soojin paek for accepting the commission pls check out her tumblr and her twitter we now return to your regularly scheduled screaming
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I think it SHOULD be in their curriculum.
But triage is extremely difficult to practice when you're working on someone you know personally.
Even on someone you don't know personally(Doctor friend said emergency room duty is hell for that reason, people just aren't made to choose to give up on saving someone they were saving a moment ago) its hard. But first time with live injuries on someone you can think of as a friend?
Mother Nyx
Mother of Elpis
- Location
- The Kei Klub
- Pronouns
- She/Her
LOL. I only personally know a few artists who could that scene justice.
I'm probably going to roll a 1d3 soon if that three-way tie for fifth place persists.
Basically what @veekie said: Triage is in their curriculum, but it's harder to apply when everyone is someone you know. Plus, you know, even if they were dispassionate about triage, most of the girls probably haven't seen enough injured people yet to really get a good idea of what "she's a goner" looks like.
Yup. =3
@Spectrum i didnt noe u swung that way
Ooh, there's a classic right there.
Relative to Caldrans (and perhaps also the rest of the Treiden people), Sandrians are comparable to the Ryukyuans of Japan in that they're an indigenous ethnic group somewhat independent of what is conventionally considered "Treiden". An ethnic minority and colonial subjects during the days of the Tenereian Empire, they "chose" (scare quotes because there's debate over how much agency they actually had over this particular choice) to secede alongside the Treidens of the then-province of Caldrein to form the Confederacy, but as kind of the odd-man-out in the five regions, some of the ethnic baggage persisted. Sandrians are not really recognized as a separate ethnic group so much as they are a subset of the Treiden people, something done out of political convenience rather than any anthropological analysis. The original Sandrian language is pretty much dead at this point (largely stamped out by the Tenereian Empire, but the Confederacy made no real attempts to try to salvage the language during its founding). Relative to more hardworking, practical, and respectful Treidens, Sandrians are stereotypically regarded as a bit lazy, rather romantic, and overly familiar. It's a stereotype more often held by those less well-traveled and well-educated; literacy rates in Sandria are not significantly worse compared to the other regions by any statistically relevant margin, and Caldrein's leaders are generally pretty invested in the idea of not pissing off the Sandrians.
I sometimes associate Aphelia with Weiss' appearance, but I won't make further commentary about their character similarities. I am trying to disassociate the appearances of the two characters in my head, anyways, because "rapier-and-ice" was actually an entirely coincidental arrangement, but... >_>
Also, fixing typos. >_<
Basically what @veekie said: Triage is in their curriculum, but it's harder to apply when everyone is someone you know. Plus, you know, even if they were dispassionate about triage, most of the girls probably haven't seen enough injured people yet to really get a good idea of what "she's a goner" looks like.
Yup. =3
That seems vaguely...erotic.
Keeeeeeeeeeeeei, what are you doing I thought you didn't need Patreon only content now with your new job
@Spectrum i didnt noe u swung that way
Ooh, there's a classic right there.
Relative to Caldrans (and perhaps also the rest of the Treiden people), Sandrians are comparable to the Ryukyuans of Japan in that they're an indigenous ethnic group somewhat independent of what is conventionally considered "Treiden". An ethnic minority and colonial subjects during the days of the Tenereian Empire, they "chose" (scare quotes because there's debate over how much agency they actually had over this particular choice) to secede alongside the Treidens of the then-province of Caldrein to form the Confederacy, but as kind of the odd-man-out in the five regions, some of the ethnic baggage persisted. Sandrians are not really recognized as a separate ethnic group so much as they are a subset of the Treiden people, something done out of political convenience rather than any anthropological analysis. The original Sandrian language is pretty much dead at this point (largely stamped out by the Tenereian Empire, but the Confederacy made no real attempts to try to salvage the language during its founding). Relative to more hardworking, practical, and respectful Treidens, Sandrians are stereotypically regarded as a bit lazy, rather romantic, and overly familiar. It's a stereotype more often held by those less well-traveled and well-educated; literacy rates in Sandria are not significantly worse compared to the other regions by any statistically relevant margin, and Caldrein's leaders are generally pretty invested in the idea of not pissing off the Sandrians.
I sometimes associate Aphelia with Weiss' appearance, but I won't make further commentary about their character similarities. I am trying to disassociate the appearances of the two characters in my head, anyways, because "rapier-and-ice" was actually an entirely coincidental arrangement, but... >_>
Also, fixing typos. >_<
She's surprisingly stocky...honesty I don't like the clothing, it throws her off from being cute and small or maybe its the colour of the background that ruins the contrast.aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
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super kudos to @Lazy Minx for commissioning it and for soojin paek for accepting the commission pls check out her tumblr and her twitter we now return to your regularly scheduled screaming
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As for the votes, not happy the team and same old votes winning.
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Mother Nyx
Mother of Elpis
- Location
- The Kei Klub
- Pronouns
- She/Her
*Starts quietly praying to the dice gods*
Wendy, Wendy, Wendy...
Wendy, Wendy, Wendy...
- Location
- WA
Yeah, I'd rather use this opportunity to get to know people we haven't interacted with alot yet. One more for
[X] Wendy
[X] Wendy
So what about Vesna Rainer huh?
- Location
- WA
Just didn't seem to...resonate? With me that much? If Stephanie or Melanie were also tied, then maybe, but alas.
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Right, I'm locking this in.
1.19.1 At the End of the Academic Year (Part 1)
I'm in a hurry, so I'll post this part for now and dealing with details (formatting, links, BGM) later. Congrats, I'm not a splatter on the pavement.
[x] Wendy
Shafts of light dance across the sky as seas of clouds merge and part in the afternoon, lines of sunlight growing and then vanishing, lighting up random parts the Faulkren area with a warm, fleeting afternoon glow. It's a beautiful scene to watch, one that you have enjoyed at the window of a building taller than just one story, and on many other days, you would've stayed at that window to watch sunlight lay its kisses here and there like a particularly teasing lover.
This is not one of these days. Or perhaps it's just one of those waking hours where you wake up without nightmares, get through many more hours of the day without moments of intense sadness and melancholy and anger, look at the scars of the battle that took place many nights before with naught but the intellectual thought that you must do better, only for your mind to wander back unannounced and uninvited to that dark little corner of self-doubt as you attempt to process everything that has happened.
It's clear that you aren't alone by the time you reach the courtyard of the academy with your practice buster sword, seeing how at least half a dozen other apprentices are also down here with their own practice weapons, sparring or practicing against dummies in hopes that such activities will be just enough to distract them from the ghosts that haunt their memories. You exchange polite greetings with the few apprentices who notice you in the middle of their training even as you move towards the dummies, contemplating whether or not you'll try to cleave one in two with your practice buster sword today...
...At least you recognize a more familiar face amongst the apprentices here in the courtyard. Wendy, too, is working on a variety of thrusts against the practice dummy with her own practice spear. You can see as you approach that Wendy has gotten better since your instructor last pitted you together in spars. Her maneuvering - even as she slips side to side around the dummy as if it were a real opponent - has become much less awkward, and her movement economy - gracefully executing attacks with as few unnecessary movements as possible - has significantly improved. Her understanding of the range of her attacks - never shabby to begin with, seeing how you have been on the receiving end of her well-distanced attacks - has been honed well; she's only close enough to the dummy so that although the practice spearhead doesn't thrust too deeply into the dummy, it's just enough to transfer the full kinetic force into the target. The harm, you'd imagine, will only increase when Wendy has a real spearhead at the end of that pole.
Eventually, Wendy steps back from a rapid series of attacks on the dummy to catch her breath, her forearm wiping away the sweat accumulating on her forehead and brushing away her mousy brown hair. It's as she does so that she notices your approach, and she gives you a nod of acknowledgement, casually greeting, "Hey."
"G-Good afternoon," you greet with a polite bow of your head.
BGM: Kingdom Hearts 3D Dream Drop Distance - Traverse Town
"You need anything?"
You don't really. Although now that she asks, an opportunity does come to mind. You wouldn't necessarily call Wendy a "friend", and your relationship has always been at least mildly awkward, but the weeks and months following Roldharen haven't been completely disastrous, so you feel tempted to press your luck as you fidget for a moment before asking, "Do you w-want to spar?"
Wendy pauses before eyeing the practice buster sword slung against your back suspiciously. "You're not going to hit me with that again are you?"
"Th-That was an a-accident!" you stammer, flustered and maybe a little defensive. "And y-you were fine!"
Wendy narrows her eyes. "You know, when you send someone flying five meters away with a big stick, I don't think you get to decide if they're fine or not."
You fidget awkwardly again. "I-It was four," you insist.
Wendy rolls her eyes are you, but after a moment, she sighs a bit, twirls her spear, and concedes. "Right, fine, let's do this."
In the weeks you've been sparring with Wendy and Wendy alone - who has suddenly developed a very healthy respect for your latest choice of weapon - you've come to understand her fighting style, her tactics, her quirks. You know that her fighting style tends to be calm and technical, although she's given to panic a little if you press hard, and she can't help but sacrifice some of that precision for a bit of flair, as seen whenever she twirls her spear with a flourish after emerging victories in a bout. You instinctively understand her preferred angles attack, the timing of her blows, how far you can press an advantage before she gives ground or counterattacks. Technically, her spear is longer, but she understandably doesn't want to take full advantage of this by closing into a distance where she's more likely to be hit by, at least as she once bitterly described it, "a bed masquerading as a sword".
So, in a way, the sparring is almost like a choreographed dance. It isn't at all, of course; both you and Wendy are trying to best each other with practice weapons without actually hurting each other, especially since neither of your instructors are here to stop you when they sense you're going too far. But this instinctive understanding of each other's pace and limits also means you match each other well, with Wendy being faster and more clever, but with you compensating with a degree of foresight and the fact that Wendy simply doesn't want to be in range of a weapon that she once again described bitterly as "a shrine door on a stick". You swing your sword gently enough to conserve your energy but hard enough to make sure Wendy backs up two times more than she really needs to, while she tries to find clever angles in between your swings under which to squeeze in a riposte in counterattack. She's the wind and you're a boulder.
No longer are you constantly losing either. It's been weeks since you had to run around academy grounds with your greatsword as penance for losing your instructor's drinking coin. Now the two of you have achieved rough parity. Maybe Wendy has a slight advantage over you - as your instructor put it, she did grow up in a rougher neighborhood - but it's so very slight now. She'll try to kick dust into your eyes, she'll try to use her hands to pry past your practice greatsword, she'll try to shove at your feet, but you've long since developed counters to those, and the counters to her counters to your counters.
A few apprentices passing through the courtyard stay for just a moment to watch every now and then. You and Wendy are not Sieglinde and Aphelia - you're not drawing an adoring crowd of fangirls - and you suspect that many of those who are watching are mostly curious about how you use as improbable a weapon as a buster sword. But spectators are spectators.
This goes on for some time. You have learned to conserve your energy despite wielding a buster sword, lasting longer than you ever have before, but Wendy is still a human with a much lighter weapon. At last, the two of you finally take a rest, alone in the courtyard. You are sitting on a bench, catching your breath, when Wendy walks up beside you and offers you a cup of refreshingly cold water.
"Th-Thank you," you say politely, even as Wendy sits down beside you - not far enough to be impolite, but not so close as to suggest familiarity - and the two of you take gulps from your respective cups.
Leaning back against the bench, it occurs to you that there's a level of irony in your current relationship with Wendy. Once a member of the squad that probably hated you the most, Wendy has nonetheless become the apprentice that you've sparred with more than anyone, to the point where the two of you are familiar with each other's combat styles and tempos. You have always meant to train with Sieglinde instead - she's a squadmate and she offered - but instead it's been Wendy you've been growing alongside. Things are still a bit awkward with her - you haven't really talked much beyond what's necessary for your training and classes, and her apology comes at the end of some hostility on her part - but at least they're not actively unpleasant.
Although it definitely feels awkward to be sitting with her awkwardly on a bench at an awkward distance and awkwardly not saying anything. So you muster your courage, take a deep breath - barely noticing in the periphery of your vision that Wendy is also taking a deep breath - and start, "U-Um..."
You are stammering, so before you manage to actually say anything of substance, Wendy - despite being just a second late - finishes first: "Let's be friends."
You blink, confused, your mind momentarily going into a incomprehensible feedback loop. "Y-Y-Yes?" you stammer without really thinking about it, as if you're trying to answer a question.
"Okay," Wendy nods. "Good."
Then your brain finally catches up with the conversation, your eyes widen, and your face tries to decide whether it should pale in shock or flush in embarrassment. "W-W-Wait!" you stammer harder, waving your hands in front of you in a panic, realizing what has just happened. "Not yet!"
It's Wendy's turn to blink, and for the first time ever, she looks almost insecure. Not awkward in the way she was when she thanked you for saving her from a wyvern some time after Roldharen, but momentarily brittle. "Not yet?"
Caught even more off-guard by Wendy's expression, you fidget nervously - perhaps even a bit guiltily - as you try to recover from your surprise. "I-I-I mean...!" you squeak, trying to force out words, preferably in an order that makes sense. It's not quite working.
Thankfully, Wendy's shoulders slump a little, and she gives a small grimace that somehow almost qualifies as a smile. "Sorry, it's a bit out of the blue," she admits quietly. "It was a bit easier blurting it out, I guess."
"O-Oh," you finally allow rather pathetically when you've finally caught up with where the conversation actually is right now. At least you're not quite fidgeting or flailing your arms anymore.
Because it's time for Wendy to fidget a little, although at least she's not flailing her arms like you did. "I've...kind of wanted to do this a long time ago, I guess. After Roldharen. After..." she looks around awkwardly, makes a face, sighs, "...you know. It was easier putting it off, though. Thinking the time wasn't right. That you'd say no. Wondering if you hate me."
"I-I-I don't hate you!" you're quick to panickedly interject.
Wendy awkwardly gives one of her small grimace-smiles again. You wonder if that's just how she always smiles. "That's a relief. Pen is...Penelope, I mean. She wanted to tell you she was sorry about...well, before."
"Oh. Th-Thank you."
And a moment of silence reigns, as the two of you fall quiet and desperately think of something to say to fill the gap. It is almost deathly silent; compared to the liveliness that often characterizes an academy full of more than a hundred apprentices, the somber atmosphere means that more and more are staying in their rooms in quiet contemplation. You hope things won't stay like this, especially after summer vacation when everyone comes back for the second year.
It is Wendy who first speaks after several painfully long moments wherein both of you are pretending you're still trying to catch your breath from sparring. "Nothing, uh, embarrassing happened, right?"
"Embarrassing?"
"When I almost got killed by a wyvern." And when you tilt your head slightly to the side in confusion, Wendy looks mildly unhappy as she mumbles, "I didn't have a boob hanging out or anything, did I?"
You immediately flush red once more. "Y-Y-You didn't!" you insist, flailing your hands in front of you once more in a warding, denying gesture. Then, as an afterthought, you add much more hurriedly, "I-I mean, I wasn't l-l-looking!"
It does occur to you that Wendy doesn't really have much of a chest for anything to "hang out". It also occurs to you that perhaps it is not the wisest option to point that out, even if you mean it as a word of comfort.
Wendy makes a face that doesn't really telegraph relief or frustration. "Pen keeps teasing me about it," she scowls, although not really in an excessively hostile manner. "And I keep asking if she's just joking, but I can't get a straight answer out of the bitch." She grimaces once more for a moment before her shoulders slump and relax, and she exhales deeply with an almost apologetic look. "Sorry, I'm kind of avoiding the topic because it's embarrassing." She pauses, thinks about it for a moment, then mumbles, "And I'm avoiding it with an even more embarrassing topic." Sighing once more, Wendy fidgets a little before attempting to speak as clearly as possible, which somehow ends up sounding like even more mumbling, "I think you're okay. I'm sorry I'm late about this." She does her best to master her expression and self-consciously sticks a hand out in your direction in a manner that suggests this is not a ritual she's particularly familiar with. "I'd like to be friends with you."
In spite - or because - of everything that has happened, it's difficult to refuse Wendy when she's trying so hard to be earnest. With almost equal awkwardness, you reach out gingerly to take her hand. "I'd be h-happy to be your friend," you say with a bit of a smile.
There is a shaking of hands. "Don't send me flying five meters with the stick again, though."
"F-Four."
Wendy rolls her eyes a little, although it doesn't seem actively disdainful; whereas Penelope always seems constantly angry, Wendy tends to gravitate towards mild dry annoyance. "You know, I was going to pick the lance."
"Oh." You wouldn't have been able to tell, seeing how Wendy has kept the same spear she always had instead of anything that looks particularly different. You suppose your initial assumption that you have progressed faster than Wendy is misfounded, even if it's something your mind didn't really dwell on. "H-Has your instructor offered you specialized weapons?"
"Yeah. It was the lance, the glaive, or halberd." She smirks wryly at you. "And I thought really hard about using that lance to ignore your ridiculous weapon."
"Oh." Then, holding your practice buster sword a little defensively, you mutter, "I-It's not ridiculous."
"I would've been able to hit you well before you can come close to me with your door-on-a-stick. But then I wouldn't have been able to use the lance in a city or in the woods or whatever." She shrugs, and that wry look returns to her face. You suspect you'll be seeing a lot of that in the future. "Congratulations for making me think this hard."
"U-Um." You shrug helplessly, not sure exactly how to properly respond to Wendy given her tone and body language. It's hard to tell whether she's complaining or complimenting you. "Thank...you?
"I can still beat you with this spear, though."
You make a bit of a face. "...Sometimes."
Wendy actually chuckles a little at that, and you find yourself smiling a little in spite of yourself. You would never have thought that you'd respond so openly to a challenge...or at least as openly as you'd ever allow yourself to. But then again, Wendy has been sparring you and cheating for so long now that you feel like it's entirely appropriate.
Probably. Mostly.
"So," the human finally notes as she looks you up and down, as if trying to discern something. "You're a village girl, aren't you?"
"Y-Yes," you acknowledge, blinking in mild surprise. "How did you guess?"
The human lancer gives a small smirk. "It's really not hard to tell."
You try not to make a face; you never fancied yourself as mysterious like how Stephanie and Sieglinde are, but it still stings a little - even for you - to learn that you have about as much mystique as an open children's book. "How s-so?"
"Well, you don't talk weird like a real dryad, like the ones at Roldharen," Wendy explains, and again you're not sure whether she's trying to mock you or praise you or somewhere in between, "but your sort don't really go for cities much, right? You don't talk like it and you definitely don't dress or act like it either, not like...Mia or Vesna or Nikki. But you're not much like the farmgirls either. Becky and Pisha and Ashlyn always have this kind of...squirrely thing where they don't want to look anyone even a little bit posh in the eye and they sound at least twice as hickish as you do. So: Village girl."
"...Oh." You are still not entirely sure how to respond to Wendy's reasoning, and are left to suppose that the human probably isn't someone who tries to alienate new friends literally minutes after making them. "I...th-think I used to, um. 'Talk weird'. I th-think my friends said I sounded too p-polite."
Wendy's brow creases in slight puzzlement. Or perhaps even amazement. "You don't sound too polite now?"
Taking a few awkward silent moments to find that you don't have a good response to that, you instead change the subject, "Wh-Where are you from?"
"Arkenvale," Wendy names the regional capital of Apaloft, "where five people have six opinions."
"Really?"
For a moment, Wendy regards you in a droll manner. "Yes, Neianne," she says dryly, "believe it or not, I'm really from Arkenvale, even if I'm not posh enough for the largest city in Apaloft where the countess is."
"N-N-No, I m-mean!" you panickedly clarify, suddenly horrified that you may have offended Wendy by accident. "Do f-five people really have s-six opinions?"
"Probably more. We're where House Celestia is, so everyone has at least a few opinions on politics. People will sit down together, get roaring drunk, argue about what the countess and her minions are going to do next, and then get into fistfights when someone says someone else's guess is a load of..." she looks at you, trails off, then decides that you are - after all - "too polite", and mumbles, "...well, you know."
"Oh." That does, after all, seem to be the only real response to give. You've been to Arkenvale once, but that was years ago, and you don't quite remember how the people were like. And certainly not people like Wendy; your parents never would've allowed it. "Do you like it there?"
Wendy makes a face, and you can tell that she has complicated feelings on the matter and is not entirely sure how whether or not she's glad you asked. Which, of course, makes you regret that you asked it. "It's...not exactly great," she finally allows after a moment of conflicted thought. "I mean, it's not all bad. I probably shouldn't complain." That doesn't stop you from getting the feeling that she does want to complain. "Although again..." she shrugs, and gives a smirk that seems just as complicated as before, "...I'm here, aren't I?"
The two of you end up sparring some more, making a bit more inconsequential small talk, and then eventually part ways warmly, or at least as warmly as someone like Wendy permits. But when you have a moment to flop onto your bed to rest your muscles and wait for dinner, it occurs to you that many of your friends are largely satisfied as to where they are in life. Melanie and Vesna and Mia seem largely happy being daughters of merchants. Emilie and Nikki seem happy being freeholders. Sieglinde and - to some extent - Elizabeth seem critical - again, to some extent - with their lot in life, but you don't get the feeling that they're entirely unhappy with it. And if you really think about it, if you consider why you even came here in the first place, you realize you're happy being the daughter of a humble freeholder family as well.
But it's perhaps at some point as you stare at the ceiling in your bedroom that you come to understand that Wendy isn't. And although that may be the most enlightening thing you've come to learn about the mousy human girl with a spear - more so than anything else that you've come to learn about her ever since you saw her help spill soup on Elizabeth - you also realize that you have no idea what to think about it.
And you're not sure whether it says more about Wendy...or about you.
[x] Wendy
Shafts of light dance across the sky as seas of clouds merge and part in the afternoon, lines of sunlight growing and then vanishing, lighting up random parts the Faulkren area with a warm, fleeting afternoon glow. It's a beautiful scene to watch, one that you have enjoyed at the window of a building taller than just one story, and on many other days, you would've stayed at that window to watch sunlight lay its kisses here and there like a particularly teasing lover.
This is not one of these days. Or perhaps it's just one of those waking hours where you wake up without nightmares, get through many more hours of the day without moments of intense sadness and melancholy and anger, look at the scars of the battle that took place many nights before with naught but the intellectual thought that you must do better, only for your mind to wander back unannounced and uninvited to that dark little corner of self-doubt as you attempt to process everything that has happened.
It's clear that you aren't alone by the time you reach the courtyard of the academy with your practice buster sword, seeing how at least half a dozen other apprentices are also down here with their own practice weapons, sparring or practicing against dummies in hopes that such activities will be just enough to distract them from the ghosts that haunt their memories. You exchange polite greetings with the few apprentices who notice you in the middle of their training even as you move towards the dummies, contemplating whether or not you'll try to cleave one in two with your practice buster sword today...
...At least you recognize a more familiar face amongst the apprentices here in the courtyard. Wendy, too, is working on a variety of thrusts against the practice dummy with her own practice spear. You can see as you approach that Wendy has gotten better since your instructor last pitted you together in spars. Her maneuvering - even as she slips side to side around the dummy as if it were a real opponent - has become much less awkward, and her movement economy - gracefully executing attacks with as few unnecessary movements as possible - has significantly improved. Her understanding of the range of her attacks - never shabby to begin with, seeing how you have been on the receiving end of her well-distanced attacks - has been honed well; she's only close enough to the dummy so that although the practice spearhead doesn't thrust too deeply into the dummy, it's just enough to transfer the full kinetic force into the target. The harm, you'd imagine, will only increase when Wendy has a real spearhead at the end of that pole.
Eventually, Wendy steps back from a rapid series of attacks on the dummy to catch her breath, her forearm wiping away the sweat accumulating on her forehead and brushing away her mousy brown hair. It's as she does so that she notices your approach, and she gives you a nod of acknowledgement, casually greeting, "Hey."
"G-Good afternoon," you greet with a polite bow of your head.
BGM: Kingdom Hearts 3D Dream Drop Distance - Traverse Town
"You need anything?"
You don't really. Although now that she asks, an opportunity does come to mind. You wouldn't necessarily call Wendy a "friend", and your relationship has always been at least mildly awkward, but the weeks and months following Roldharen haven't been completely disastrous, so you feel tempted to press your luck as you fidget for a moment before asking, "Do you w-want to spar?"
Wendy pauses before eyeing the practice buster sword slung against your back suspiciously. "You're not going to hit me with that again are you?"
"Th-That was an a-accident!" you stammer, flustered and maybe a little defensive. "And y-you were fine!"
Wendy narrows her eyes. "You know, when you send someone flying five meters away with a big stick, I don't think you get to decide if they're fine or not."
You fidget awkwardly again. "I-It was four," you insist.
Wendy rolls her eyes are you, but after a moment, she sighs a bit, twirls her spear, and concedes. "Right, fine, let's do this."
In the weeks you've been sparring with Wendy and Wendy alone - who has suddenly developed a very healthy respect for your latest choice of weapon - you've come to understand her fighting style, her tactics, her quirks. You know that her fighting style tends to be calm and technical, although she's given to panic a little if you press hard, and she can't help but sacrifice some of that precision for a bit of flair, as seen whenever she twirls her spear with a flourish after emerging victories in a bout. You instinctively understand her preferred angles attack, the timing of her blows, how far you can press an advantage before she gives ground or counterattacks. Technically, her spear is longer, but she understandably doesn't want to take full advantage of this by closing into a distance where she's more likely to be hit by, at least as she once bitterly described it, "a bed masquerading as a sword".
So, in a way, the sparring is almost like a choreographed dance. It isn't at all, of course; both you and Wendy are trying to best each other with practice weapons without actually hurting each other, especially since neither of your instructors are here to stop you when they sense you're going too far. But this instinctive understanding of each other's pace and limits also means you match each other well, with Wendy being faster and more clever, but with you compensating with a degree of foresight and the fact that Wendy simply doesn't want to be in range of a weapon that she once again described bitterly as "a shrine door on a stick". You swing your sword gently enough to conserve your energy but hard enough to make sure Wendy backs up two times more than she really needs to, while she tries to find clever angles in between your swings under which to squeeze in a riposte in counterattack. She's the wind and you're a boulder.
No longer are you constantly losing either. It's been weeks since you had to run around academy grounds with your greatsword as penance for losing your instructor's drinking coin. Now the two of you have achieved rough parity. Maybe Wendy has a slight advantage over you - as your instructor put it, she did grow up in a rougher neighborhood - but it's so very slight now. She'll try to kick dust into your eyes, she'll try to use her hands to pry past your practice greatsword, she'll try to shove at your feet, but you've long since developed counters to those, and the counters to her counters to your counters.
A few apprentices passing through the courtyard stay for just a moment to watch every now and then. You and Wendy are not Sieglinde and Aphelia - you're not drawing an adoring crowd of fangirls - and you suspect that many of those who are watching are mostly curious about how you use as improbable a weapon as a buster sword. But spectators are spectators.
This goes on for some time. You have learned to conserve your energy despite wielding a buster sword, lasting longer than you ever have before, but Wendy is still a human with a much lighter weapon. At last, the two of you finally take a rest, alone in the courtyard. You are sitting on a bench, catching your breath, when Wendy walks up beside you and offers you a cup of refreshingly cold water.
"Th-Thank you," you say politely, even as Wendy sits down beside you - not far enough to be impolite, but not so close as to suggest familiarity - and the two of you take gulps from your respective cups.
Leaning back against the bench, it occurs to you that there's a level of irony in your current relationship with Wendy. Once a member of the squad that probably hated you the most, Wendy has nonetheless become the apprentice that you've sparred with more than anyone, to the point where the two of you are familiar with each other's combat styles and tempos. You have always meant to train with Sieglinde instead - she's a squadmate and she offered - but instead it's been Wendy you've been growing alongside. Things are still a bit awkward with her - you haven't really talked much beyond what's necessary for your training and classes, and her apology comes at the end of some hostility on her part - but at least they're not actively unpleasant.
Although it definitely feels awkward to be sitting with her awkwardly on a bench at an awkward distance and awkwardly not saying anything. So you muster your courage, take a deep breath - barely noticing in the periphery of your vision that Wendy is also taking a deep breath - and start, "U-Um..."
You are stammering, so before you manage to actually say anything of substance, Wendy - despite being just a second late - finishes first: "Let's be friends."
You blink, confused, your mind momentarily going into a incomprehensible feedback loop. "Y-Y-Yes?" you stammer without really thinking about it, as if you're trying to answer a question.
"Okay," Wendy nods. "Good."
Then your brain finally catches up with the conversation, your eyes widen, and your face tries to decide whether it should pale in shock or flush in embarrassment. "W-W-Wait!" you stammer harder, waving your hands in front of you in a panic, realizing what has just happened. "Not yet!"
It's Wendy's turn to blink, and for the first time ever, she looks almost insecure. Not awkward in the way she was when she thanked you for saving her from a wyvern some time after Roldharen, but momentarily brittle. "Not yet?"
Caught even more off-guard by Wendy's expression, you fidget nervously - perhaps even a bit guiltily - as you try to recover from your surprise. "I-I-I mean...!" you squeak, trying to force out words, preferably in an order that makes sense. It's not quite working.
Thankfully, Wendy's shoulders slump a little, and she gives a small grimace that somehow almost qualifies as a smile. "Sorry, it's a bit out of the blue," she admits quietly. "It was a bit easier blurting it out, I guess."
"O-Oh," you finally allow rather pathetically when you've finally caught up with where the conversation actually is right now. At least you're not quite fidgeting or flailing your arms anymore.
Because it's time for Wendy to fidget a little, although at least she's not flailing her arms like you did. "I've...kind of wanted to do this a long time ago, I guess. After Roldharen. After..." she looks around awkwardly, makes a face, sighs, "...you know. It was easier putting it off, though. Thinking the time wasn't right. That you'd say no. Wondering if you hate me."
"I-I-I don't hate you!" you're quick to panickedly interject.
Wendy awkwardly gives one of her small grimace-smiles again. You wonder if that's just how she always smiles. "That's a relief. Pen is...Penelope, I mean. She wanted to tell you she was sorry about...well, before."
"Oh. Th-Thank you."
And a moment of silence reigns, as the two of you fall quiet and desperately think of something to say to fill the gap. It is almost deathly silent; compared to the liveliness that often characterizes an academy full of more than a hundred apprentices, the somber atmosphere means that more and more are staying in their rooms in quiet contemplation. You hope things won't stay like this, especially after summer vacation when everyone comes back for the second year.
It is Wendy who first speaks after several painfully long moments wherein both of you are pretending you're still trying to catch your breath from sparring. "Nothing, uh, embarrassing happened, right?"
"Embarrassing?"
"When I almost got killed by a wyvern." And when you tilt your head slightly to the side in confusion, Wendy looks mildly unhappy as she mumbles, "I didn't have a boob hanging out or anything, did I?"
You immediately flush red once more. "Y-Y-You didn't!" you insist, flailing your hands in front of you once more in a warding, denying gesture. Then, as an afterthought, you add much more hurriedly, "I-I mean, I wasn't l-l-looking!"
It does occur to you that Wendy doesn't really have much of a chest for anything to "hang out". It also occurs to you that perhaps it is not the wisest option to point that out, even if you mean it as a word of comfort.
Wendy makes a face that doesn't really telegraph relief or frustration. "Pen keeps teasing me about it," she scowls, although not really in an excessively hostile manner. "And I keep asking if she's just joking, but I can't get a straight answer out of the bitch." She grimaces once more for a moment before her shoulders slump and relax, and she exhales deeply with an almost apologetic look. "Sorry, I'm kind of avoiding the topic because it's embarrassing." She pauses, thinks about it for a moment, then mumbles, "And I'm avoiding it with an even more embarrassing topic." Sighing once more, Wendy fidgets a little before attempting to speak as clearly as possible, which somehow ends up sounding like even more mumbling, "I think you're okay. I'm sorry I'm late about this." She does her best to master her expression and self-consciously sticks a hand out in your direction in a manner that suggests this is not a ritual she's particularly familiar with. "I'd like to be friends with you."
In spite - or because - of everything that has happened, it's difficult to refuse Wendy when she's trying so hard to be earnest. With almost equal awkwardness, you reach out gingerly to take her hand. "I'd be h-happy to be your friend," you say with a bit of a smile.
There is a shaking of hands. "Don't send me flying five meters with the stick again, though."
"F-Four."
Wendy rolls her eyes a little, although it doesn't seem actively disdainful; whereas Penelope always seems constantly angry, Wendy tends to gravitate towards mild dry annoyance. "You know, I was going to pick the lance."
"Oh." You wouldn't have been able to tell, seeing how Wendy has kept the same spear she always had instead of anything that looks particularly different. You suppose your initial assumption that you have progressed faster than Wendy is misfounded, even if it's something your mind didn't really dwell on. "H-Has your instructor offered you specialized weapons?"
"Yeah. It was the lance, the glaive, or halberd." She smirks wryly at you. "And I thought really hard about using that lance to ignore your ridiculous weapon."
"Oh." Then, holding your practice buster sword a little defensively, you mutter, "I-It's not ridiculous."
"I would've been able to hit you well before you can come close to me with your door-on-a-stick. But then I wouldn't have been able to use the lance in a city or in the woods or whatever." She shrugs, and that wry look returns to her face. You suspect you'll be seeing a lot of that in the future. "Congratulations for making me think this hard."
"U-Um." You shrug helplessly, not sure exactly how to properly respond to Wendy given her tone and body language. It's hard to tell whether she's complaining or complimenting you. "Thank...you?
"I can still beat you with this spear, though."
You make a bit of a face. "...Sometimes."
Wendy actually chuckles a little at that, and you find yourself smiling a little in spite of yourself. You would never have thought that you'd respond so openly to a challenge...or at least as openly as you'd ever allow yourself to. But then again, Wendy has been sparring you and cheating for so long now that you feel like it's entirely appropriate.
Probably. Mostly.
"So," the human finally notes as she looks you up and down, as if trying to discern something. "You're a village girl, aren't you?"
"Y-Yes," you acknowledge, blinking in mild surprise. "How did you guess?"
The human lancer gives a small smirk. "It's really not hard to tell."
You try not to make a face; you never fancied yourself as mysterious like how Stephanie and Sieglinde are, but it still stings a little - even for you - to learn that you have about as much mystique as an open children's book. "How s-so?"
"Well, you don't talk weird like a real dryad, like the ones at Roldharen," Wendy explains, and again you're not sure whether she's trying to mock you or praise you or somewhere in between, "but your sort don't really go for cities much, right? You don't talk like it and you definitely don't dress or act like it either, not like...Mia or Vesna or Nikki. But you're not much like the farmgirls either. Becky and Pisha and Ashlyn always have this kind of...squirrely thing where they don't want to look anyone even a little bit posh in the eye and they sound at least twice as hickish as you do. So: Village girl."
"...Oh." You are still not entirely sure how to respond to Wendy's reasoning, and are left to suppose that the human probably isn't someone who tries to alienate new friends literally minutes after making them. "I...th-think I used to, um. 'Talk weird'. I th-think my friends said I sounded too p-polite."
Wendy's brow creases in slight puzzlement. Or perhaps even amazement. "You don't sound too polite now?"
Taking a few awkward silent moments to find that you don't have a good response to that, you instead change the subject, "Wh-Where are you from?"
"Arkenvale," Wendy names the regional capital of Apaloft, "where five people have six opinions."
"Really?"
For a moment, Wendy regards you in a droll manner. "Yes, Neianne," she says dryly, "believe it or not, I'm really from Arkenvale, even if I'm not posh enough for the largest city in Apaloft where the countess is."
"N-N-No, I m-mean!" you panickedly clarify, suddenly horrified that you may have offended Wendy by accident. "Do f-five people really have s-six opinions?"
"Probably more. We're where House Celestia is, so everyone has at least a few opinions on politics. People will sit down together, get roaring drunk, argue about what the countess and her minions are going to do next, and then get into fistfights when someone says someone else's guess is a load of..." she looks at you, trails off, then decides that you are - after all - "too polite", and mumbles, "...well, you know."
"Oh." That does, after all, seem to be the only real response to give. You've been to Arkenvale once, but that was years ago, and you don't quite remember how the people were like. And certainly not people like Wendy; your parents never would've allowed it. "Do you like it there?"
Wendy makes a face, and you can tell that she has complicated feelings on the matter and is not entirely sure how whether or not she's glad you asked. Which, of course, makes you regret that you asked it. "It's...not exactly great," she finally allows after a moment of conflicted thought. "I mean, it's not all bad. I probably shouldn't complain." That doesn't stop you from getting the feeling that she does want to complain. "Although again..." she shrugs, and gives a smirk that seems just as complicated as before, "...I'm here, aren't I?"
The two of you end up sparring some more, making a bit more inconsequential small talk, and then eventually part ways warmly, or at least as warmly as someone like Wendy permits. But when you have a moment to flop onto your bed to rest your muscles and wait for dinner, it occurs to you that many of your friends are largely satisfied as to where they are in life. Melanie and Vesna and Mia seem largely happy being daughters of merchants. Emilie and Nikki seem happy being freeholders. Sieglinde and - to some extent - Elizabeth seem critical - again, to some extent - with their lot in life, but you don't get the feeling that they're entirely unhappy with it. And if you really think about it, if you consider why you even came here in the first place, you realize you're happy being the daughter of a humble freeholder family as well.
But it's perhaps at some point as you stare at the ceiling in your bedroom that you come to understand that Wendy isn't. And although that may be the most enlightening thing you've come to learn about the mousy human girl with a spear - more so than anything else that you've come to learn about her ever since you saw her help spill soup on Elizabeth - you also realize that you have no idea what to think about it.
And you're not sure whether it says more about Wendy...or about you.
- Location
- PA
Hrrm...I'd say Wendy really. Neianne wants to be better, to be more than a shy stuttery Dryad but...That doesn't really mean being a villiage girl doesn't suit her.
I almost feel like long-term she'd end up not unlike that retired lilty warrior from Crystal Cronicles, Echoes of Time myself...
I almost feel like long-term she'd end up not unlike that retired lilty warrior from Crystal Cronicles, Echoes of Time myself...
- Location
- Florida
That was pretty comfy.