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rosavelle2025-10-30 12:15 pm
royaldecreemods) wrote in rosavelle2025-10-30 12:15 pm
Entry tags:
Welcome to Rosavelle!
INVITATION
You're going about your day when you notice an envelope that most certainly wasn't there before. It's beautiful, if a little old-fashioned: pale pink paper, sealed with a pressed flower instead of wax and your name written in looping cursive that shimmers faintly in the light.
Inside, the letter begins;
... It goes on like that for a while, whole paragraphs assuring you that you can leave whenever you want, no time will pass back in your world, the Everbloom's magic will keep you safe, etc etc… honestly it gets to the point that it starts to sound less like an invitation and more like a contract. But then, mercifully, the writer finds their footing again:
Maybe you accept right away or maybe you dismiss it as a prank or something equally unimportant. No matter what you think when you first read it, your mind eventually turns back to that invite and your find yourself thinking that it might not be a bad idea…
And once you do, you feel the world going soft and sweet around you, the scent of blooming flowers filling your nose - and before you can quite process what's happening, you realize you've accepted.
Inside, the letter begins;
- Dearest friend—
Goodness, I hope that isn't too forward. We've not met, after all. But I have been told that when one writes an invitation, it's important to sound sincere.
My name is Calanthe Rosabella Petalia de Amoré. I am the Crown Princess of Rosavelle. It's a little island kingdom far, far away - so far that it may not exist quite in the same world as yours.
I know this must sound terribly strange, but I'm writing because I need your help. You see, my coronation is approaching soon, and Rosavelle's magic - the Everbloom - responds to the strength of one's heart. It's said that a ruler must understand love to truly awaken it. Not just romance, mind you, but all kinds of love: friendship, kindness, care.
The trouble is… I'm not very good at it. I've read so many books about love, but real people don't seem to follow the same rules the novels do.
That is why I'm writing to you. The Everbloom - our most ancient and wondrous magic - has granted me the means to reach across worlds. I'm inviting a handful of remarkable individuals, like you, to Rosavelle to help me learn. Not only to teach me what love means to you, but to help me see how it can bloom between friends, companions, and strangers alike.
I promise you'll be treated as an honored guest.
... It goes on like that for a while, whole paragraphs assuring you that you can leave whenever you want, no time will pass back in your world, the Everbloom's magic will keep you safe, etc etc… honestly it gets to the point that it starts to sound less like an invitation and more like a contract. But then, mercifully, the writer finds their footing again:
- If you'll come, I'd be so very grateful. I know this is a strange request, and you owe me nothing - but still, I hope you'll consider it. Rosavelle is beautiful this time of year, and it is my hope that seeing it alongside fresh eyes will allow me to see it more clearly as well.
With all my thanks (and my hopes!)—
Princess Calanthe Rosabella Petalia de Amoré
Maybe you accept right away or maybe you dismiss it as a prank or something equally unimportant. No matter what you think when you first read it, your mind eventually turns back to that invite and your find yourself thinking that it might not be a bad idea…
And once you do, you feel the world going soft and sweet around you, the scent of blooming flowers filling your nose - and before you can quite process what's happening, you realize you've accepted.
ARRIVAL
You arrive in a haze of soft, rosy light. For a moment, everything is weightless - the air around you hums faintly, thick with warmth and the heady scent of flowers. When the haze fades, you find yourself standing beneath a vast glass dome that stretches impossibly high overhead. The light filtering through its pink-tinted panes paints everything in gentle rose and gold and petals drift through the air like drifting snow.
You are standing in the Everbloom's Greenhouse. The walls curve upward in graceful arches, every pane glimmering faintly and the air is warm, fragrant, and shimmering with faint motes of magic. Flowering vines climb the supports, colorful blossoms of all kinds spill from hanging baskets, and everywhere you look there's flowers, flowers, flowers.
At its heart stands the Everbloom, a colossal tree the likes of which you've never seen before. Its smooth trunk is faintly luminous and the canopy stretches so high that you can't see where it ends, vanishing into a haze of golden light and drifting petals. The air around it hums softly with power and for a moment, all you can do is stare up at it in awe.
A moment later, movement stirs: castle attendants glide forward in elegant uniforms, carrying towels, refreshments, and generally doing their best to make sure everyone's arrived safely. After all, you're not alone. Around you, other figures begin to appear - some blinking in wonder, some already steady on their feet. Each seems as out of place as you, drawn from distant worlds and disparate lives but under the rosy light they all seem to come together like flowers gathered into the same bouquet.
Those who stumble are gently guided toward a bench cushioned with flowering moss. Cool towels and drinks infused with rose and mint are offered freely. Eventually, once it seems like everyone's arrived and mostly gotten their bearings, one of the attendants - a lady-in-waiting as you'll eventually find out - speaks up.
"You are most welcome to Rosavelle," she says, dipping into a polite bow. "Their Princess will be hosting a banquet this evening to greet you all properly. Until then, please take your time to get settled and familiar with your surroundings. If you need anything at all, do not hesitate to ask."
For now, you're free to mingle. This is your chance to get your bearings, meet your fellow arrivals, and explore your surroundings. Beyond the main atrium, you can glimpse winding paths lined with blooming hedges and fat, colorful blossoms. Somewhere in the distance, you can faintly hear birdsong. You feel a little tug somewhere in your chest and if you follow it, you might just come across a flowerbed somewhere in the Greenhouse that you somehow know as your own.
After some time to mingle and acclimate, the attendants return, clapping their hands gently to draw attention.
"It's nearly time to prepare for the evening banquet! If you'll come with us, we'll see to your attire."
DRESS UP
You're led from the warmth of the greenhouse through a series of winding marble corridors until you're ushered through a set of grand double doors into a suite of guest rooms bustling with motion. Tailors, stylists, and attendants hurry between privacy screens, racks of lavish garments and trays piled high with glittering jewelry. Silks and satins gleam and lace and velvet catch the light in soft waves of color.
Tailors and stylists bustle about, armed with measuring tapes, pins, and brushes. The staff are cheerfully firm about making sure everyone looks their best for the banquet but nobody's forced into anything they don't want; the attendants listen to everyone's preferences and somehow find something flattering for even the most reluctant participant. Whether you comply with good humor or grumble through the process, it's impossible not to get swept up in the flurry of preparation. … of course, if you're determined to be a grump about the whole thing, you're welcome to wait outside until everyone's dressed up nicely.
The attendants encourage everyone to chatter as they work or even to lend a hand to another guest struggling with their ensemble. Maybe it's out of curiosity - the staff are polite, professional, but it's clear that dressing guests from other worlds is a novelty they want to enjoy.
As final adjustments are made and mirrors fill with transformed reflections, the bustle slowly quiets. Attendants exchange satisfied looks, then guide the group once more through the corridors. The faint strains of music drift down the corridors until at last, you find yourself before the towering double doors of the Azurite Banquet Hall, carved from the stone it takes its name from. The lady in waiting pauses just long enough to smooth a wrinkle here, adjust a collar there, and make sure everyone is present before pushing the doors open.
Tailors and stylists bustle about, armed with measuring tapes, pins, and brushes. The staff are cheerfully firm about making sure everyone looks their best for the banquet but nobody's forced into anything they don't want; the attendants listen to everyone's preferences and somehow find something flattering for even the most reluctant participant. Whether you comply with good humor or grumble through the process, it's impossible not to get swept up in the flurry of preparation. … of course, if you're determined to be a grump about the whole thing, you're welcome to wait outside until everyone's dressed up nicely.
The attendants encourage everyone to chatter as they work or even to lend a hand to another guest struggling with their ensemble. Maybe it's out of curiosity - the staff are polite, professional, but it's clear that dressing guests from other worlds is a novelty they want to enjoy.
As final adjustments are made and mirrors fill with transformed reflections, the bustle slowly quiets. Attendants exchange satisfied looks, then guide the group once more through the corridors. The faint strains of music drift down the corridors until at last, you find yourself before the towering double doors of the Azurite Banquet Hall, carved from the stone it takes its name from. The lady in waiting pauses just long enough to smooth a wrinkle here, adjust a collar there, and make sure everyone is present before pushing the doors open.
BANQUET
The Azurite Banquet Hall glows with warm candlelight reflected in polished marble floors and the air inside smells of wine and roses. Long tables stretch the length of the hall, each one dressed in embroidered runners and heaped with platters of food that look almost too beautiful to eat and in the corner, a string quartet plays a soft, lilting melody.
At the head of the room stands your host, Princess Calanthe Rosabella Petalia de Amoré. Draped in pale gold, they look every bit the part of a royal... though the slightly nervous way they adjust their posture speaks of someone not entirely at ease in the spotlight. When they catch sight of the assembled guests, though, they brighten a bit. Their hands are clasped too tightly around their wine glass, but their voice is bright and earnest.
... suddenly, they look sheepish.
They raise their glass, cheeks pink but eyes bright.
As the toast echoes through the hall, the music swells again - a graceful waltz this time - and attendants sweep forward to usher guests toward the buffet tables.
There's something for every palate: platters of lemon-butter shrimp and rosemary-crusted fish, seared scallops on saffron rice and fillets of calendula-cured salmon alongside oysters resting in crushed ice and lobsters cracked open beside dishes of herb butter. It's not all seafood, either - whole roasted ducks glazed in something fruity dot the table, alongside lamb, chicken and a mouthwatering roast beef.
Between the platters, bowls of vegetables offer roasted root vegetables glistening with sweet glaze, delicate salads strewn with edible petals, caramelized carrots, blistered cherry tomatoes and crisp greens grown. And, of course, baskets of warm, golden bread wait beside whipped butter and creamy sauces.
If you're in the mood for sweets, there's desserts in dizzying abundance: sugared fruit tarts, meringues shaped like blossoms, chocolate soufflés dusted with candied violet, and pastries of all kinds filled with custard, chocolate and all manner of fruity, flowery fillings.
A side table gleams with crystal decanters and goblets: bottles of wine, deeply colored mead and delicate floral liqueurs seem to be the alcoholic offerings but there's carafes of chilled fruit water steeped with mint for anyone who's not inclined towards spirits.
If you're feeling bold, the cleared space near the musicians makes a perfect dance floor. Perhaps you find yourself drawn into a dance, or perhaps you linger at the buffet, trading stories with a stranger over a shared plate of sugared pastries. Or maybe you'll take the opportunity to introduce yourself to your host now they've made an appearance.
Eventually, as the night wears thin, the quartet's melody softens to a gentle hum. Candlelight flickers low. The attendants appear once more, smiling as they begin to guide everyone toward the final stop of the evening.
At the head of the room stands your host, Princess Calanthe Rosabella Petalia de Amoré. Draped in pale gold, they look every bit the part of a royal... though the slightly nervous way they adjust their posture speaks of someone not entirely at ease in the spotlight. When they catch sight of the assembled guests, though, they brighten a bit. Their hands are clasped too tightly around their wine glass, but their voice is bright and earnest.
- "Ah - good evening, everyone! I - well, goodness, where does one even begin?
First of all, thank you. Truly, thank you all for coming here - to Rosavelle, and to me. I know this must all seem terribly strange - one moment you were in your own world, and the next you're here. It's strange to me too, you know. I've been imagining this for weeks, and yet somehow it still doesn't feel quite real.
Ah - oh! I suppose I should introduce myself properly. My name is Calanthe Rosabella Petalia de Amoré. I am the Crown Princess of Rosavelle, soon to be its sovereign, though I admit that still feels a little surreal to say aloud.
I invited you here because - well, I imagine all of you read your invitations. The Everbloom, our kingdom's oldest and most sacred magic, is bound to the heart and mine is… embarrassingly, quite uneducated in such matters. I couldn't imagine anyone in this world I could burden with such a problem and so I thought - perhaps - those who come from other worlds might help me."
... suddenly, they look sheepish.
- "That said, ah - there is a small complication. It is. Um. Frowned upon by most scholars to interfere with the affairs of other worlds, even with the best of intentions and I fear it would cause quite a stir if word got out. So for the time being, we'll need to keep your origins a secret. Please don't worry, though - we've arranged everything you'll need. Over the next month, we'll be teaching you about Rosavelle and all its customs so that when you venture out for the Wilting festival, you'll feel quite at home.
I realize that's rather a lot to ask, and I'm - well, I'm deeply grateful for your patience. I promise to do my best to make this worth your while.
So, once again, thank you. For answering my invitation. For being here, together, tonight.
Now then-"
They raise their glass, cheeks pink but eyes bright.
- "To new beginnings, and to the bonds we have yet to form. May they bloom as beautifully as the flowers of Rosavelle... oh, that sounded quite good, didn't it? A toast - to all of you!"
As the toast echoes through the hall, the music swells again - a graceful waltz this time - and attendants sweep forward to usher guests toward the buffet tables.
There's something for every palate: platters of lemon-butter shrimp and rosemary-crusted fish, seared scallops on saffron rice and fillets of calendula-cured salmon alongside oysters resting in crushed ice and lobsters cracked open beside dishes of herb butter. It's not all seafood, either - whole roasted ducks glazed in something fruity dot the table, alongside lamb, chicken and a mouthwatering roast beef.
Between the platters, bowls of vegetables offer roasted root vegetables glistening with sweet glaze, delicate salads strewn with edible petals, caramelized carrots, blistered cherry tomatoes and crisp greens grown. And, of course, baskets of warm, golden bread wait beside whipped butter and creamy sauces.
If you're in the mood for sweets, there's desserts in dizzying abundance: sugared fruit tarts, meringues shaped like blossoms, chocolate soufflés dusted with candied violet, and pastries of all kinds filled with custard, chocolate and all manner of fruity, flowery fillings.
A side table gleams with crystal decanters and goblets: bottles of wine, deeply colored mead and delicate floral liqueurs seem to be the alcoholic offerings but there's carafes of chilled fruit water steeped with mint for anyone who's not inclined towards spirits.
If you're feeling bold, the cleared space near the musicians makes a perfect dance floor. Perhaps you find yourself drawn into a dance, or perhaps you linger at the buffet, trading stories with a stranger over a shared plate of sugared pastries. Or maybe you'll take the opportunity to introduce yourself to your host now they've made an appearance.
Eventually, as the night wears thin, the quartet's melody softens to a gentle hum. Candlelight flickers low. The attendants appear once more, smiling as they begin to guide everyone toward the final stop of the evening.
HOUSEWARMING
The banquet winds to a gentle close and ne by one, the guests are gathered once more by the castle attendants who lead the way through dimly glowing corridors. The halls are quieter now, the rosy light of evening filtering through stained glass in sleepy shades of pink and gold. Everyone is lead through the castles and out into the grounds, their splendor only a little dulled by the darkness starting to settle over the castle.
"Your lodgings are just ahead," the lady in waiting says, her voice hushed out of respect for the hour. "You've each been assigned to a house - named for the flowers that chose you."
Slowly but surely, everyone's names are called and each person is supplied a heavy brass key to a house named for a flower you may have seen blooming somewhere today. When they speak the name of your house, something in you stirs with faint, inexplicable recognition, like you know it already - or maybe it knows you.
In any case, the barracks themselves are nothing like the name implies: warm, inviting, and softly lit by enchanted lanterns. Each house has its own cozy common area where low couches and plush chairs are gathered around softly glowing hearths. A long table in the center has been set with some late-night comforts, in case you somehow have any room left in your belly - plates of fruit and pastries, steaming pots of tea, and rich cocoa dusted with rose sugar.
The attendants leave you to settle in for the night, with a promise that the barracks staff will prepare meals from tomorrow onwards but mostly, you'll be left to your own devices. You could just track down your room and crash for the night but now seems as good a time as any to get to know your new housemates.
"Your lodgings are just ahead," the lady in waiting says, her voice hushed out of respect for the hour. "You've each been assigned to a house - named for the flowers that chose you."
Slowly but surely, everyone's names are called and each person is supplied a heavy brass key to a house named for a flower you may have seen blooming somewhere today. When they speak the name of your house, something in you stirs with faint, inexplicable recognition, like you know it already - or maybe it knows you.
In any case, the barracks themselves are nothing like the name implies: warm, inviting, and softly lit by enchanted lanterns. Each house has its own cozy common area where low couches and plush chairs are gathered around softly glowing hearths. A long table in the center has been set with some late-night comforts, in case you somehow have any room left in your belly - plates of fruit and pastries, steaming pots of tea, and rich cocoa dusted with rose sugar.
The attendants leave you to settle in for the night, with a promise that the barracks staff will prepare meals from tomorrow onwards but mostly, you'll be left to your own devices. You could just track down your room and crash for the night but now seems as good a time as any to get to know your new housemates.
no subject
Yoojin Han. And come on, you don't owe me anything. We all got this food for free.
[Or, well, in exchange for the love thing or whatever. Basically for free. Really: Yoojin just met Ranma, and he already loves her. It's that easy!
While she eats, he casually uses a teensy, sneaky little skill of his, and... well, hello. How about those stats. Yoojin likes her even more.
(Curse: Boy -> Girl, though? What's the deal with that? He's never seen something like that in the skills section, of all places. The icon looks like a transformation skill, if anything.
Huh.)
Yoojin remains all smiles, eyes scrunching.]
So what do you do, Ranma? Something active, I bet, with an appetite like that.
no subject
Yoojin's staring at her funny doesn't go unnoticed. It isn't anything she's not used to, however, so she doesn't pay it any mind. Ranma gulps down the last of her meal, having the decency to do that before answering.]
Hit the nail right on the head there. [Showing off a toothy spunky beam, she punches a fist into her palm.] Martial arts, been practicin' since I started walkin'!
[Judging the pride teeming off her and Yoojin's taking a peek at her stats, that claim holds up.]
no subject
[Yeah, sure, with his special cheat skill eyes. He eats a spoonful of his souffle, and, god, it's so good, so much better than the crap they've been feeding him at Chao Lake Special District, seriously, he could cry. Aaaah.]
I met another girl here who does martial arts. Uh, Akane Tendo, I think it was. She's around your age, so you two should be friends!
no subject
Preening at the compliment, Ranma gives a flex of an arm - before her head perks up in recognition.]
Little late on the suggestion there, 'cuz we were already friends before comin' here. [She thinks they're friends? She hopes so at the minimum? It's the easiest way she can describe their relationship without divulging the arriage-may business.] Our dads founded our respective branches; hers founded the Tendou School of Anything Goes, and Pop founded the Saotome School of Anything Goes. That's mine.
[Ranma's gonna neglect bringing up the original founder, for the good reason of fuck Happosai.]
no subject
[Personally, Yoojin would just about die to see someone from home, he misses them so badly. He's missed them since before arriving to the greenhouse. Yoohyun, Yerim, Noah, Peace, or even that aggravating Sung Hyunje...
But it's not safe. Not for them. That's why he's here, after all, instead of waiting for rescue where he was. Yoojin breathes out, shakes his head, and smiles again.]
Dang, I bet it's almost like summer camp! Or training camp? [Given their shared, ah, sport?] Though I guess we're coming up on winter already around these parts.
no subject
A weird situation's more like a daily routine to us. World-hopping's new, but otherwise, this isn't the weirdest adventure we've wound up in.
[Ask her about them if you dare. It'll take the entire night to choose. And the next night.]
Never been to either one of those camps, so I'll take your word on it. [Crossing her arms behind her head all laxed.] Oh, right, Akane's sister's here too. [That's two familiar faces here. Why does she bring Nabiki up? Weeeeeeeeeeell...] Fair warnin', if you see her selling or offering somethin', don't take it. She'll try to rip you off.
[That. That's why. Free advice because Yoojin fed her.]
no subject
[Oho. Sounds like Akane's unnie might be a girl after his own heart. Yoojin puts his chin in his palm.]
Thanks for the heads up. A lot of people have tried to scam me over the years, so I appreciate it, really. [He sighs mournfully.] Man. I guess I just have a real gullible-looking face.
[He kind of does, though. Then, like flipping a switch, it turns into a big, bright smile again.]
So you should totally tell me about what was your weirdest adventure, to see if I believe it or not.
no subject
Finger guns coming Yoojin's way.]
Don't mention it. [Really, don't, primarily while Nabiki's in earshot.] If it's any consolation, she's suckered plenty of savvy guys with her schemes.
[Like me she wisely decides to omit.]
Weirdest adventure...? [Ranma cranes her neck, deep in thought, perusing through her options.] That's a toughie, hm...
[Humming and bobbing on her feet, her eyes look at the concession table... And you see, first, a disgusted grimace and then a lightbulb moment go off!]
Okay, so! [Sitting on an unused table, clapping her hand.] There was this French dude that barged into our dojo called Picolet Chardin II or III, or whatever. Y'see, our dads couldn't or wouldn't pay a bill to his family, so Akane's dad promised one of his daughters' hand in marriage. And he came to collect on it.
[Starting off... well.]
Of course, I stepped in-- [With a dramatic flourish, posing almost heroically...
where did she get that microphone?], and challenged him to a wager. If I won, he'd call off the entire proposal. If he won, I'd become his bride. Had to stay at his place for trainin'. Picolet and his freaky family were all masters at what I challenged him in: martial arts dining. It's basically glorified speed-eating. All of them had this inherit ability to stretch their faces-- [Ranma hooks the edges of her mouth, pulling at it like she's about to stick out her tongue mockingly.] --anf moufs-- [She stops doing that.] that gave them an advantage. They could stick entire melons in their mouths whole, use their tongue like a chameleon's, and their idea of kissing their lovers involves swallowing their entire heads.[Beat, because that last bit elicits a shudder out of her.]
But a long story short, after a long week of grueling trainin', I kicked his butt!
[Beaming cheerfully with pride and vigor.]
no subject
[But Picolet Chardin III's ridiculous name is only the tip of the weirdness iceberg, and Yoojin's one hell of a responsive audience for it. With each new fact, his jaw drops further, his eyes grow even more round. Ranma isn't even halfway through the story before Yoojin's covering his mouth with one hand, stifling disbelieving snickers even as he eagerly eats up every word.]
What. What? Wha-ha-hahahat?! Swallowing their--? Nooooo, snrk, pffHAHahaha, what?!
[In the end, he has to fold his arms on the table and bury his head in them, shaking with laughter. The mental image Ranma's painted of these martial arts dining masters... it's Just Too Weird!]
I believe it! I believe you, 'cause heck knows the universe is weirder than we ever imagined, but--geez! Are you sure they weren't part pelican or something? Or like, made of rubber?
no subject
I couldn't make this up if I tried.
[She wishes the kissing part was all a fib. Unfortunately, she has first-hand experience to confirm its validity.]
Sure felt like they were, 'cuz I kept punching that snob into the air and he always bounced right back up. [to be fair, that's 9/10 the entire Ranma cast] They wanted me to learn how t' eat like 'em too. Made me wear an iron corset until I picked it up, went a whole week without getting any food.
[Ranma might be joking about it now, but. It was a rough period.]
What 'bout you? Got any weird adventures under your belt?
no subject
Me? Uhh...
[Where does he draw the line between "weird and funny anecdote" and "horrifying account"? He pauses with a frozen look on his face before breaking the ice with a chuckle.]
You know, any story I could start with requires a whole lot of explaining about my world. Why don't I tell you about that instead? It's probably weird enough, from your perspective.
[Akane didn't even believe him about smartphones at first. What'll Ranma think of all the dungeons and dragons?]
tfw you never hit enter while replying and forget until hours later
Hm? What's that deer-in-headlights look for? Ranma cocks a brow, waving her hand in an 'elaborate' motion.]
Floor's yours.
[Fool, Ranma's seen both dungeons and dragons!]
The computers do be like that
About three years ago, interdimensional portals opened up all over the world, and those portals let monsters through. I'm talking dragons, dinosaurs, giant moles--you had video games in '89, right? Any kind of random encounter you can imagine, we suddenly had to deal with stampeding in the streets.
At the same time, though, human beings suddenly "Awakened" to abilities of their own: enhanced strength or speed, elemental magic, transformation, all that crazy stuff. Those with the power to protect people did. We eventually learned how to control the monster outbreaks by going through those gates--the portals I mentioned--and taking out enough of the population in the dungeons within that they wouldn't overflow into our world.
The people who've taken on that job are called Hunters. Believe it or not, I'm one of them, though you can probably tell I'm not much of a fighter on my own.
1/3
Perhaps that's why her mind and eyes wander off elsewhere. That, and she's an active teenager who has trouble sitting in one spot when she isn't meditating to begin with. Ranma's half-paying attention catching the finer details here and there while half-checking out. For whatever reason, she decides to glance over at the dancefloor. To lament, to curse that tomboy for being so, so-]
2/3
There she was. Dancing with somebody - a dude? A chick? The hairdo's making it hard to tell from where she's sitting - without flailing or flopping over the place. Ranma didn't take her words seriously, or so she lead herself to believe, she just figured Akane would storm outside and smash cinder blocks to blow off steam.
It's just Akane's petty revenge to get back at her. Both of them can be spiteful and petty children to each other when they wanna. Yet... Something still stung like the worst third degree burn in her chest, watching the girl she'd basically professed to recently - without knowing whether it was all in her head, if she said it aloud, or if Akane'd heard every word coming out of mid-death - enjoying herself without her.........]
3/3
Hm? [Where were they? Oh, right. Her eyes give Yoojin a once over, half-heartedly assessing any fighting prowess.] You're pretty scrawny, I take it you're not one of those Awakened dudes then?
[If so, woof, that stinks being that one.]
no subject
He returns his attention to Ranma. The way she's still slightly damp (why?) makes her look even more dejected, like an abandoned kitten in a box in the rain.
...Uh-huh. Right. Yoojin isn't an expert on this type of trouble--Yoohyun had no interest in others whatsoever, let alone a special interest--and Korean culture isn't the most progressive about this sort of thing. Even so, he can make a wild guess.]
I aaammmmm, but.
[Should he redirect the conversation? She might not appreciate being pushed, but at the same time, she's obviously not going to be able to concentrate properly on anything else. After a moment, he bobs his head towards the dance floor without pointing Akane out in particular, crosses his arms on the table, and lowers his voice.]
You okay there? Wanna talk about it?
no subject
Talk 'bout what?
[Playing obtuse means she don't have to talk about her feelings. Right? Right?]
1/2
2/2
Look, I know it's none of my business. That just means I won't go blabbing about it to anyone else, though, you know? Anything you tell me stays right here.
[Yoojin taps his temple.]
1/2
Yoojin wasn't speaking in hyperbole before. Ranma's face is literally on the floor via a real-life anime face fault, complete with her hands doing an oyakusoku pozu.]
2/2
Prying her face off the spotless waxed floor, Ranma hops back up, intensely scowling.]
I dunno what you're talkin' about. Why would I care who that uncute tomboy dances with? Matter of fact, I'm thrilled I don't gotta be caught tumblin' all over the dancefloor thanks to macho chick's sloppy moves.
[Ignore how flushed her cheeks are now that Yoojin pointed it out, that's only his imagination.]
no subject
[Also, wow, if Ranma thinks Akane is macho, Yoojin would love to see what she makes of Moon Hyuna.]
Didn't you just tell me you risked your own hand in marriage and starved for a week to protect her? It's kinda obvious you care for her, if not her dancing. Did you two have a fight or something?
no subject
[Scoffed out, with a tone that implies some sort of inside joke only she (and Akane)'s privy to.
Moon Hyuna would break Ranma's mind, 'cuz wow Ucchan and Konatsu needs to step up their game.]
And her sisters. Wasn't just her. [Tho... Can she truly say Akane wasn't the main factor and mean it? Ranma fidgets with her pigtail, twirling it around her finger with a pout.] When don't we have a fight's more like it, 'cept this one didn't leave a big me-shaped hole in the princess's joint. She got the wrong idea, like always.
[When Ranma actually tried to be cognizant of Akane's comfort, she misconstrues it. You'd think they'd have better communication but ha ha, nope.]
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Wrong idea about what?
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