open rp

[diejoubu]

❝CALL ME OUT❞

Pick a Character. Leave a prompt, a scenario, or a picture in comment and I'll respond.
I'm cool with AUs, game verse, etc!

Have some meme top levels or generator options if you can't decide on anything

▸ random geographic coordinates | ▸ random imagineyourotp | ▸ random picture prompt
 ▸ random au prompt | ▸ random prompt ideas

Comments

[harboaring]

( the question, at any other time, or perhaps on any other night, might make him break out into a smile, even a laugh, if he were in good enough humor. yes, that must be what it looks like: that he's wandered the grounds to try to wrestle his way into the dining hall looking for a midnight snack or a midnight meal, and truthfully, he's mostly outgrown those urges. even as a child, he hadn't been the particularly rebellious type--he'd had other people to fill in that role for him--and hadn't been particularly starved for food, either. here, too, at garreg mach, there is plenty of food to go around, excellent cooking and plenty of fresh vegetables and herbs and meat to suit the tastes of the myriad of students here.

so while the assumption is understandable, it's silly in a way that helps put his thoughts, troubling and overwhelming, to the side if only for the moment it takes to regard byleth with a small, good-natured shake of his head. )

I was hoping to find myself with something to improve a sleepless night, and training would be far too noisy at this hour.

( there's a reluctance, in admitting that to byleth: not that he thinks it's a weakness, or that their precious professor would hold such a thing against him. the only thing she might do is press him for more information--and that's what he's afraid of having to admit to anyone. )

I don't suppose you have a key?

( would she? he doesn't know necessarily what she may have access to, being a professor here, and what they may have neglected to give her admittance to: but it would certainly be the better bet than having him rip the door off or plunge a fist through the wood; that would cause too much trouble in the morning, and he doesn't want to be faced with all the questions that would come after something like that.

perhaps it's comical, or perhaps it's only comical in the sense that he's this serious about it: but he folds an arm against his chest, the other propped up against it to fold his fingers to his lips, wondering through the problem as though it's some great battle mechanic that he has to contend with. )

Or perhaps your mercenary days gave you the skills to pick locks? I've never learned, myself. I would, of course, not want to compromise your position here...

( the but i could use the help goes unsaid, in the way his voice trails off. )