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[It was after they returned from that strange, neon-coloured beach island that Byleth finally admitted defeat over his hair.

The nails growing into claws was an issue he would stoically endure until his dying days - that was an easy fix, as this place sold the very convenient tool called a 'nail clipper', which meant the task took less than five minutes. It was something he easily kept from Yuri too, which how often he wore gloves and how they were both still quite independent, coming and going from the house to go their own thing. The fingernails turning into claws as a manageable war that Byleth was confident in waging. It wasn't a problem.

The hair, though.

Perhaps it was his Nabatean lineage, or maybe it was just how the Discord was manifesting, but his hair wasn't an easy five minute fix with a very sharp dagger. Even as careless as he was about his looks, he knew better than to just haphazardly hack at it - he did try to cut it into a straight line at least... the problem was that his hair was tough. As in, he didn't cut his hair with a dagger so much as he sawed it. And to ensure it remained neatish and didn't look like he got mauled by a hedge-trimmer, the whole process took an hour at least to complete. Very hard to hide from Yuri.

So, he didn't bother, really, but he didn't really invite conversation or assistance as he stoically worked on his hair one muggy evening either. He was sat on his sofa set up in front of the fire pit, a mirror balanced on a cushion as he had a fistful of hair in one hand, and a sharp dagger in the other, determinedly sawing back and forth as it slowly cut through the surprisingly tough locks. It was taking a lot of arm strength here, and Byleth - despite the slim arms - was not weak upper body wise either.

Maybe he could repurpose some of this hair...? He did save what he cut off, just in case he ever needed use out of it, but he couldn't help but wonder if it could be woven together to make nigh-indestructible thread, or repurposed into emergency bindings or something. He just won't tell anyone it was made out of his hair...]

[ Very suddenly, there’s a sense of Communion touching your character’s mind. However, it’s as if they connect with the mind of a shared Aspect, as they’re not able to block out the brief, but sharp memory that comes to them. ]

A Shard-Bearer sinks into the warm waters of Highstorm’s seasonal hot springs with a content sigh. They’d grown up with nothing, so this kind of luxury had always seemed like an unattainable dream.

[ ooc note — Just to avoid OOC confusion/misinterpretation, the details included in this memory are random and are not necessarily interconnected or plot meaningful beyond a surface level. However, your character is free to interpret this random memory however they’d like! This event will also be touched on somewhat during today’s NPC Communion Post. ]

Hey.

[That's all she offers to start the conversation. Curt, impolite greeting with no flourish or flare.]

[It has been a few days, since the Oracle trial concluded. Normally, she would have contacted Yuri about this the next day, perhaps the next after that at the latest, but... Things were different this time. In many ways.]

Yuri Leclerc.

[... or, "Regulus", she supposed.]

I wonder if you are available for a brief conversation.

[ Yuri, perhaps to his surprise, receives a small parcel. Inside is a small collection of baked goods or sweets, a small jar of honey, and a very fancy bottle of shampoo, along with a small folding knife, apparently intended to be used as a tool. ]

Yuri - I hope these small tokens of my regard find you well; we talked a little about this and I am embarrassed to admit I decided to include you on my list. I wish you all the best.

-Dimitri Blaiddyd

[On the first day of the new year by the Kenosian calendar, Hayame seeks out Yuri Leclerc. She has a delivery to make for the other man in that home, as well, so... she brings both. There is a certain formality to her visit at first, not just the fact she has come dressed in her one formal dress, the shorn short remains of her hair styled as best she could. There is ritual to the greetings she is attempting to recreate in this world- the ones she had grown up emulating and learning so that one day she might perform them. A low bow, gratitude expressed for the care in which she has been held the past year...

But eventually she softens from the rigid (though sincere) motions, in order to present what she has brought. Somewhat embarrassed, inexperienced in being in any sort of position to give actual gifts to people, she manages to explain that in her world it is customary to present new clothing on the occasion of the new year, so...

She has brought this- a robe-like top that resembles the fashions she is used to from her own world, in a dark gray color. Close enough, anyway. As she puts it in his hands... She manages to say that she hopes he likes it. That it would honor her if he were to wear it. And that they will be in each other's care for the next year as well.]

[ Nebula is terrible with children. ]

[ Like we're talking class a asshole without even trying terrible. ]

[ The fact anyone is letting her near them must be a child's nightmare. How does anyone handle this? It'd been... Well, calling it simple would be a poor choice of words. She'd found the child hiding in a corner close to one of the ruined zones. She'd spoke of shadows and monsters and things that were more normal than they were not. Nebula had not been patient - though in her own ways, she tried. She'd demanded where her parents were and the answer to that had been splattered across the cobblestones. ]

[ That had filled her with anger and she bore no kindness for the monster that was still slurping up their supper like... She's not putting words to it. She did not care to wait for the Legion, it had been quick work. And when she returned to the child she'd been covered in blood that wasn't hers in - probably wasn't just the monster's either. The child had looked terrified. ]

[ She wouldn't blame her. And yet the child had hugged her and she'd hugged her back. Confused, wary, and surprised. By the time the Legion had gotten there to ask questions the child had fallen asleep. They offered to take her to the orphanage and Nebula had refused. She's not particularly sure why she refused. They would be able to take care of her; Maybe she remembered when her own parents had died and what her father's army had done to her and everyone she loved. ]

[ She took the child with her and by the time she'd woken up she had bought them both new clothes and taken her to clean up. After that, it really wasn't a difficult decision - Nebula was not fit to be a parent. She was not fit to watch over children so dropping her off at the orphanage had been the only right thing to do... But Shardbearer exploits hadn't passed by even children. ]

[ So now she has children tugging at hands, her legs, and anywhere they can reach. They talk and scream and laugh and she wonders if she ever had a day like that - And it's only because the one young girl clings close to her that she stays even when she snaps at another pair for yanking on her hair. ]

[There is much to be done, in the time between the attack on Springstar and preparation for what must come next. After the Tribune's laying-in-state and asking Yuri to try his healing magic on her (successful, more so than the Heliopolis healers had been when she had been unconscious), she had been far too busy to keep much in touch. She had temporarily suspended her reading and writing lessons.

But... there is one thing she does need to do. Not just for her, even though a selfish part of her did think that perhaps... perhaps it could be appreciate another way, but primarily for her potential usefulness during any upcoming missions. So-]

Good morning, Yuri.

Are you available for a consult?

Late Warqu (August)

a memory—

Communion → Post Harbinger Oracle

POST-HARBINGER ORACLE ➳ 切り髪の結い方

late takiltu

new year's delivery

emru🔁action

backdated slightly so its not quite as pre-oracle