Pressing play starts with that lighthearted question, and then the view blinks to life. A little, blue-haired girl sits in front of a vanity mirror, dressed in frills. She watches the reflection of a burly redhead strolling over, clad in training leathers, dusty from head-to-toe, sporting a few bandages here and there. She's smiling, almost smirking, as she scoots the child over and grunts when she has a seat.
"I'm not!" the child protests, her cheeks puffing in a pout. She looks away as the woman reaches and gives her little shoulder a shake.
"Aaah, yeah, you are. Come on, you're really going to be mad that I kept a bunch of infantrymen from trampling you?"
"I was gonna beat 'em all up!" the girl affirms, nose in the air.
"Yyyeah, you'd sure try," the woman sighs, her expression fond as she pats the girl's head, smoothing out some flyaways. "But you're still a little too little to be taking on a whole battalion like that -- even just for training."
"You did..."
"Only 'cuz you were runnin' right there in the middle! You think a mama bear's not gonna go rushing in to raise hell for her cub? Come on, Lucina!"
While little Lucina crosses her arms and pouts, the woman sighs in exasperation, bobbing the little blue head side to side in thought for a moment. An idea strikes in a couple seconds, and the bobbing stops.
"Here, you know what you forgot?"
"What?" Lucina turns her head, and now the view is of her mother rifling through a belt pouch. Something small and white is procured, but hard to make out as hands come to her face and the view is blacked out with the closing of her eyes.
"Well, you can at least wear a little sign of battle. Prove you showed some mettle today...until you can get out there and really show them hell."
The woman gives Lucina another little shoulder shake, grinning as Lucina notices their matching bandages with growing delight. There's a bit of laughter, and the woman is saying something again, but the feed starts to glitch, the audio replaced with jumbled static before things stabilize again with a few "blinks," but when it does--
--Lucina isn't a little girl in frills anymore. She's maybe fourteen or fifteen -- a child, still, but not the same rosy-cheeked one from a second ago. The red on her face is from scrapes and smeared blood, the same such that peppers her armor and clothing.
The woman behind her is younger than even she is -- but clad in massive, bulky armor, her hair the same shade as Lucina's.
"You were sulking in here?" she asks, and Lucina blinks, looking away from the broken mirror for only a moment before turning back with a slow shake of her head.
"No...No, I...I just remembered something, is all."
The girl looks dubious at that, but doesn't press on it. Instead, she lifts her head and takes on a more urgent tone.
"Gerome's just flown back. He found Inigo and Owain. The Plegians know they have one of the Emblem's stones."
That gets Lucina's expression to grow more dark and concerned, shoulders tensing.
VIDEO//source: anon//postdate:03.14
Pressing play starts with that lighthearted question, and then the view blinks to life. A little, blue-haired girl sits in front of a vanity mirror, dressed in frills. She watches the reflection of a burly redhead strolling over, clad in training leathers, dusty from head-to-toe, sporting a few bandages here and there. She's smiling, almost smirking, as she scoots the child over and grunts when she has a seat.
"I'm not!" the child protests, her cheeks puffing in a pout. She looks away as the woman reaches and gives her little shoulder a shake.
"Aaah, yeah, you are. Come on, you're really going to be mad that I kept a bunch of infantrymen from trampling you?"
"I was gonna beat 'em all up!" the girl affirms, nose in the air.
"Yyyeah, you'd sure try," the woman sighs, her expression fond as she pats the girl's head, smoothing out some flyaways. "But you're still a little too little to be taking on a whole battalion like that -- even just for training."
"You did..."
"Only 'cuz you were runnin' right there in the middle! You think a mama bear's not gonna go rushing in to raise hell for her cub? Come on, Lucina!"
While little Lucina crosses her arms and pouts, the woman sighs in exasperation, bobbing the little blue head side to side in thought for a moment. An idea strikes in a couple seconds, and the bobbing stops.
"Here, you know what you forgot?"
"What?" Lucina turns her head, and now the view is of her mother rifling through a belt pouch. Something small and white is procured, but hard to make out as hands come to her face and the view is blacked out with the closing of her eyes.
"Well, you can at least wear a little sign of battle. Prove you showed some mettle today...until you can get out there and really show them hell."
The woman gives Lucina another little shoulder shake, grinning as Lucina notices their matching bandages with growing delight. There's a bit of laughter, and the woman is saying something again, but the feed starts to glitch, the audio replaced with jumbled static before things stabilize again with a few "blinks," but when it does--
--Lucina isn't a little girl in frills anymore. She's maybe fourteen or fifteen -- a child, still, but not the same rosy-cheeked one from a second ago. The red on her face is from scrapes and smeared blood, the same such that peppers her armor and clothing.
The woman behind her is younger than even she is -- but clad in massive, bulky armor, her hair the same shade as Lucina's.
"You were sulking in here?" she asks, and Lucina blinks, looking away from the broken mirror for only a moment before turning back with a slow shake of her head.
"No...No, I...I just remembered something, is all."
The girl looks dubious at that, but doesn't press on it. Instead, she lifts her head and takes on a more urgent tone.
"Gerome's just flown back. He found Inigo and Owain. The Plegians know they have one of the Emblem's stones."
That gets Lucina's expression to grow more dark and concerned, shoulders tensing.
"...Then we better go save them."
She turns, nodding.
"Come on, Kjelle. Let's get out of here."