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Snippet #2788830

located in Fódlan, a part of Fire Emblem: Apotheosis, one of the many universes on RPG.

Fódlan

A continent divided into three different factions: The Adrestian Empire, The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and the Leicester Alliance.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Senka Rinaldi Character Portrait: Amalthea von Kreuz Character Portrait: Mercer von Riegan Character Portrait: Cyril Eisner Character Portrait: Vridel von Hresvelg Character Portrait: Sorcha Blaiddyd Character Portrait: Jeralt's Journal
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I.Y. 1180 - Wyvern Moon - Friday the 24th
Outside Garreg Mach - Late Evening - Cloudy
Vridel von Hresvelg


The bonfire had since built itself into a roar, and the food and drinks were flowing freely. A few people were picking at the instruments Professor Manuela had provided, but for the most part the focus hadn't shifted that much yet.

Vridel was a little impressed by the Professor and Jeralt, to be entirely honest. The amount of alcohol the both of them had worked through so far greatly exceeded the next person, and it didn't really seem to be hitting any of them. After the first shared round, most everyone had been drinking at their own pace, which for some of them was quite slow indeed. Sorcha hadn't so much as touched anything yet, even; he wasn't entirely surprised.

Mercer seemed to be working on his second cup, and was grinning at something Dierdre said. Senka, however, looked to be taking her time on her second cup as well, though Amalthea hadn't so much as finished her first. It was her first time drinking if the sour expression on her face was anything to go on. Sylvi seemed quite content to go at her own pace as well, finishing her first cup in time to pour herself a second one. She either didn't mind the taste, or she had had a few drinks in her life, before. Professor Hanneman had yet to touch his cup, though, and was staring at it as if it were something to study.

“Alright, you light weight. Let's see who can drink the most, then!" Dierdre shouted suddenly, pointing an accusatory finger in Mercer's direction. He merely held his hands up in defense as if that would protect him from Dierdre's wrath. His eyes, however, landed with Vridel's, and he grinned in that mischievous way he usually did when he was up to something.

“Fine, I'll challenge you, but how about we make it more fun? How about everyone gets in on the game, hm? What do you say? Shall we see who can drink the most?" he stated, causing Sylvi to roll her eyes. Amalthea merely pursed her lips in Mercer's direction as Senka shook her head.

“Do I have to? I'm not... this isn't easy to drink," Amalthea stated as she glanced at the cup in her hand. Mercer, however, nodded.

“Everyone has to participate, otherwise it wouldn't be any fun."

"Hey now, no forcing anyone," Jeralt said mildly. "Willing participants early. That said... who wants in?" He raised his own hand, demonstrating the response he wanted. The professor shrugged and raised his as well, as did Professor Manuela, grinning from ear to ear. Devon, Sorcha and Sofia opted out, but surprisingly Reynard put his hand up. Senka seemed to think about it no longer than a second before she raised her hand. Mercer had his hand already raised the moment Jeralt suggested it, and Thea seemed to give it a little more thought before hesitantly raising hers. Dierdre had her hand raised, but Sylvi and Hanneman seemed to opt out as well.

Vridel considered it a moment, then raised his hand as well. Why not?

"All right, that's a pretty good number. So here's what we're gonna do. We need someone sober to do pours so everyone gets about the same every time. Sorcha, you'll do." He pointed at her with one of the fingers wrapped around his cup and nodded. "Then we go in rounds. Anyone who can't get their drink down in thirty seconds is out. Time between rounds is just long enough for Sorcha to get everyone's glasses filled back up. If you pass out, you lose. If you puke, you lose. You can give up whenever you want. Otherwise, there's no rules. Sound good?"

The participants nodded, and everyone sorted themselves, so that the contestants were roughly in a circle near one of the kegs. Sorcha quickly filled the cups and distributed them—fortunately they'd all written names or initials on theirs so there wasn't any confusion.

"All right," Jeralt said. "Round one's a go!"

Vridel picked up his glass, downing the ale inside with a few quick gulps. Everyone else managed to do the same, and the game moved to round two.

Mercer seemed to down his drink rather quickly during the second round, doing so in only two quick drinks it looked like. Senka managed to get hers down in a few quick gulps as well, but Thea seemed to have a bit of trouble, coughing a bit before setting her cup down. Dierdre didn't want to be outdone by Mercer, it seemed, and tried to get hers down in one quick gulp, but managed to cough on it.

“Ugh, how can anyone drink so fast!" Thea stated as she pushed the cup away from her. Her cheeks were tinged with a light pink color, and her eyes were narrowed at the others. “It burns too much when it goes down," she murmured before glancing at Vridel. She pursed her lips before pushing a sigh through her nose, and glanced back at the others.

He couldn't help but smile to himself, accepting his cup back when Sorcha filled it. He was honestly a bit surprised Thea was participating at all, but then it was sort of like her to try something new just for the experience. He supposed if he'd been as sheltered as she obviously was, he'd have been similarly-inclined.

“You can try holding your nose," he said. “Taste has a lot to do with smell." He also kind of wanted to see her try to hold her nose and drink, as he thought it'd be rather cute, in a silly way.

Jeralt called for the next round, and Vridel downed his cup. Reynard, the Professor and Jeralt were obviously holding quite steady still. Professor Manuela looked almost bored.

Amalthea quickly glanced at Vridel before doing as he suggested. She pinched her nose closed, and took a drink. As soon as she released her nose, she pursed her lips in his direction. “Ugh, that didn't help at all, Vi!" she stated before shaking her head. Mercer downed his cup rather quickly, however; Senka still seemed to be going at a reasonable pace.

“I'll pass on this next round," she murmured, placing her cup behind her so it wouldn't get refilled.

He snorted softly, reaching over to ruffle her hair and bending a little to speak near her ear. “Since you're out, maybe you wouldn't mind cheering for me?" He was feeling a little competitive, after all. Just perhaps not in the way those taking the contest seriously were.

Rounds continued to pass, and Vridel found himself glad for the endurance of long social events in the Empire, where not being able to hold one's liquor was culturally considered to be weakness of a sort. It was the same in the Kingdom, actually, and the potato-based spirit they favored up there was, in a word, disgusting.

Manuela was starting to look a little unsteady by round five, but didn't take herself out until after round seven.

Senka had stopped by round six, having either resigned, or could no longer keep going. It was hard to tell. Mercer was still in the game by round seven, though Dierdre had stopped after the fifth round. She was currently next to Sofia with her arms wrapped around her. She seemed upset about something, but it was possibly due to the fact that she lost to Mercer. Sofia was patting her back consolingly, but rolled her eyes when Vridel looked in her direction

“You can do this, Vi!" Thea stated, apparently inclined to take Vridel's suggestion to cheer for him. Her cheeks were a darker color, now, perhaps due to embarrassment. “You've only Mercer, Professor, Reynard, and Captain! You can outlast them!" she continued, smiling brightly up at him.

“Oh, a cheering section," Reynard mused as Sorcha filled their cups for the eighth time. Vridel was quite starting to feel the effects now, the world blurring in a warm, pleasant sort of fashion.

“I think perhaps our other spectators should declare their loyalties as well," the other man continued, scanning the crowd. “Let's say... anyone who backs the winner doesn't have to do cleanup."

“Uhhh... I pick Sir Jeralt?" Devon said, almost making it a question.

“Oh, I'll pick Vi, then!" Amalthea exclaimed, raising her hand as if she were trying to answer something. “What about you, Dierdre, Senka, Sylvi?" she asked, glancing in their directions.

“Cyril," was Senka's reply. Dierdre narrowed her eyes in Mercer's direction but pointed in Reynard's direction.

“I'll pick Reynard," she stated, sticking her tongue out in Mercer's direction. He laughed, though, as Sylvi rolled her eyes.

“I choose Jeralt," was Sylvi's response. Hanneman merely shook his head, and didn't pick anyone. Manuela looked amused, but shook her head too, leaning heavily into Hanneman and wrapping both of her arms around one of his. His face took on a faint pink color.

Sofia considered the remaining contestants, then smiled slightly. “Professor Cyril," she said confidently.

Thea leaned in close to Vridel, though, so that her shoulder was brushing his lightly, however; she spoke in a hushed voice with her eyes kept out in front of her. “You've got this, Vi. They don't have anything on you."

Vridel was highly amused that no one had chosen Mercer, but there was an even funnier idea than that on the table, so he made use of it. “Sorcha hasn't picked," he observed. The brush of Amalthea's shoulder against his was nice, but in his half-drunk state he didn't think it quite good enough. Fortunately, there was an easy solution to this, and as his cup was being filled he leaned over to pick her up, depositing her directly in front of him, his legs shifted out to either side, so he could wind his arms around her waist from behind and set his chin on her head.

“This okay?" he asked, low enough that only she'd be able to hear.

He could hear Amalthea swallow rather thickly as she slowly nodded, perhaps as to not disturb his position. “Y—yes, it's fine." she stuttered out. She placed her hands on one of his around her waist, but didn't seem to do anything else. She was slightly warm, and it was easy to tell from the tips of her ears that her entire face was red. He smiled a little, tilting his head slightly to breathe in the scent of her hair. It was quite pleasing; Vridel let his arms wind just a little tighter.

Sorcha was saying something about neutrality since she was pouring, but Jeralt apparently wasn't having it, as Vridel had suspected might be the case.

“Oh come on, kid. Just bet on someone. We know you're not going to cheat."

She muttered something under her breath; Jeralt leaned forward as though he'd had trouble hearing. “What?"

“I said I'd bet on Mercer," she repeated, loud enough for everyone to hear this time, and quite grumpy about it. “Not having anyone betting on him is just pathetic, so I guess I better."

“I always knew you loved me, Sor," Mercer stated, winking in her direction.

“She's being sympathetic, Mercer. She feels bad for you; it has nothing to do with love." Senka was grinning, though, so it was likely said in jest.

“Oh, but is this going to interfere with your drinking?" Amalthea stated suddenly and remained still. “If it does, you can let go, or I can... I can, um, move?" she didn't sound so sure if that was something she wanted to do, though.

“Hm," Vridel pretended to consider the question, feigning offense. “Are you saying you want me to let go, Thea?" He could of course, read the reluctance in her tone perfectly well, and knew what it meant. But that wasn't the same as making her say it. And he did want to hear her say it.

“Of course not! I just... I'm," she stuttered again, her hand squeezing his as if to reaffirm her statement. “I just... I don't want to get in the way of your victory," she murmured, her hand tightening over his.

“Never," he murmured, raising his glass for the next round.

Though he hardly wanted to lose, since she'd gone through all the trouble of cheering for him, he really thought he'd won in the only way that mattered already, and had no desire to drink himself sick when there were so many other interesting things to do with the evening. So he tapped out after the ninth round, finding that, while the world wasn't quite spinning, it was certainly pleasantly tilted.

While the others prepared for the next round, Vridel set his cup aside and buried his face between Thea's neck and shoulder. She had such a clean scent to her, with a faint hint of florals—from the greenhouse, probably. He thought there might even be a touch of sweetness there, from all that proximity to baked goods. In his hazy state, Vridel almost tasted her skin to find out, but distantly he knew that was the kind of thing he should probably hold off on. So he made a vague grumbling sound because he couldn't, and sighed against her neck.

“You smell good," he told her bluntly. “It's... distracting."

She had tensed when he did that, and swallowed a little thickly, again. She managed to relax, but from his close proximity, he could hear the beating of her heart, and how fast it was going. She was nervous, that much was easy to tell. She pulled a strand of her hair over her shoulder, though, and smelled it.

“I'm sorry, I don't mean to be. I try to make sure my hair is washed as often as possible, and... I try to find new things to wash it with," she murmured softly as if she were truly sorry that she'd offended him, some how. “If it's... too distracting, I can try something else, next time," she spoke as if there would be a next time they would be this close. She took in a soft breath, though, and wrapped her arms around his.

“I really thought you were going to win."

Vridel chuckled. “I got bored," he murmured. “Something far more interesting right in front of me, after all." Brushing his nose to her temple, he set his chin back on her head.

“You're the good kind of distracting, don't worry."

She made a strange sound when he did that, but took in a shuddering breath. “Okay," was the only word she seemed to be able to say. They remained quiet for a moment longer before she finally spoke again.

“Hey, Vi," she started, pausing only for a moment to swallow. She pat his hand with hers before saying, “I... um, never mind, it's not important."

“No?" he asked, drawing out the word. “Are you sure? I think what you have to say is important."

Gods near and far, he was drunk.

She actually shook her head, this time. “No, no it's not important, I promise!" she stated. “I just... I was going to say you smell nice, too," she murmured softly that it was hard to hear her, properly. “And, well, I think you're a good kind of distracting, too. So, um, please don't leave, yet?" she didn't seem too sure if that was the right statement she wanted, but it was also possible that she was under the influence of her drinks.

This was likely her first time, considering she had a sheltered life, and Lyanna was likely not to expose her to it.

It was honestly a perfectly-innocent version of a sentiment Vridel had heard too many times in his life to count or even care about, but from her it produced a strange warmth in his guts, one he didn't think he could blame entirely on the alcohol—or even on having a lovely woman in his arms.

“Worry not—I've no plans to go anywhere, yet."