★ pick someone you want to play with and put it in the subject ★ leave a pic or a prompt or w/e ★ havesomemoreideas;) ★ have fun! ★ fyi "late" doesn't exist. ★ let's go let's do the cute holiday thing
[ caesar has no timeframe for when cherche will come back.
surely there had been several paths laid out for him since cherche had left for the war across ylisse. though he had promised, there was nothing binding him into waiting for her. she might understand if caesar had fallen for someone else—a maiden within the village boundaries, a traveler, a woman he had met on a trek outside of his town. cherche was not the only woman (or man) in the world, and caesar was still human, perfectly capable of developing and offering his affections elsewhere.
it was even true that since caesar had fallen for cherche, he might have become even more favored by the women within the village. cherche's stay had wrought new changes within him. he had developed a more humble and hardworking nature. he fought longer, harder battles. he became more self-sufficient, tending his own gardens and animals with the help of few farmhands, working for the benefit of his hometown and sometimes others. he became less of a chauvinistic womanizer and more of a capable, reliable warrior, more than suitable for building a wholesome, stable home with.
still, he would not relent. no matter what pretty faces passed him, anyone could see that his eyes were always elsewhere, looking for cherry streams of hair wrapped neatly in a kerchief. even after what seems like the climax of the war against the Risen—the sky dark for (what they guessed might be) days, the attacks more rampant, the town on the defense rather than the attack—caesar still waits. he understands the risks. his bloodline might sputter out into nothing. cherche might as well be dead. still, he waits for her when the sun finally rises and the town begins rebuilding itself.
today seems no different than the others. caesar is stationed in one of the village's courthouses, working with other councilors over plans to rebuild one of their lost armories. one of the younger soldiers enters and gently interrupts, stating to caesar with an apology that a red-haired woman arrived in town and has been asking for him by name. she was last seen at the tavern that caesar had seen her before she left him for the war. caesar passes along his work to the men in a hurry; they all stammer and scramble to grab his sleeve, but he already escapes out the door and into the town.
he has to calm himself as he enters the tavern again. he's older, more grizzled now; he's heard remarks on how he had retained his features well, but there are signs of aging, more scars, a little more exhaustion. he's changed, he's stronger, surely, but even if she remembers him, would she still love him as he is, the way she claimed to before? he has to keep cool.
he searches through the crowd of people, craning his neck to see over the top of the small crowd. he greets back whoever calls out to him, but they leave him be when they notice how distracted he's become. with little luck, he finally calls out in the crowd: ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
u know who
surely there had been several paths laid out for him since cherche had left for the war across ylisse. though he had promised, there was nothing binding him into waiting for her. she might understand if caesar had fallen for someone else—a maiden within the village boundaries, a traveler, a woman he had met on a trek outside of his town. cherche was not the only woman (or man) in the world, and caesar was still human, perfectly capable of developing and offering his affections elsewhere.
it was even true that since caesar had fallen for cherche, he might have become even more favored by the women within the village. cherche's stay had wrought new changes within him. he had developed a more humble and hardworking nature. he fought longer, harder battles. he became more self-sufficient, tending his own gardens and animals with the help of few farmhands, working for the benefit of his hometown and sometimes others. he became less of a chauvinistic womanizer and more of a capable, reliable warrior, more than suitable for building a wholesome, stable home with.
still, he would not relent. no matter what pretty faces passed him, anyone could see that his eyes were always elsewhere, looking for cherry streams of hair wrapped neatly in a kerchief. even after what seems like the climax of the war against the Risen—the sky dark for (what they guessed might be) days, the attacks more rampant, the town on the defense rather than the attack—caesar still waits. he understands the risks. his bloodline might sputter out into nothing. cherche might as well be dead. still, he waits for her when the sun finally rises and the town begins rebuilding itself.
today seems no different than the others. caesar is stationed in one of the village's courthouses, working with other councilors over plans to rebuild one of their lost armories. one of the younger soldiers enters and gently interrupts, stating to caesar with an apology that a red-haired woman arrived in town and has been asking for him by name. she was last seen at the tavern that caesar had seen her before she left him for the war. caesar passes along his work to the men in a hurry; they all stammer and scramble to grab his sleeve, but he already escapes out the door and into the town.
he has to calm himself as he enters the tavern again. he's older, more grizzled now; he's heard remarks on how he had retained his features well, but there are signs of aging, more scars, a little more exhaustion. he's changed, he's stronger, surely, but even if she remembers him, would she still love him as he is, the way she claimed to before? he has to keep cool.
he searches through the crowd of people, craning his neck to see over the top of the small crowd. he greets back whoever calls out to him, but they leave him be when they notice how distracted he's become. with little luck, he finally calls out in the crowd: ]
Cherche?