[This is a fever dream. That's the only explanation Gwendolyn can think of. She's about to fall to her death and her battle weary mind is giving these visions to her.
'Tis a pity it could not be a vision of familiar faces. She would much prefer that over a ball. But seeing a throng of festive people, celebrating themselves and their lives, isn't so terrible either. It would be remiss to not to join them. With a little fluff of her wings at her hips, she steps out into the crowd.]
I. BOTTOMS UP alas that's not how she'll win the game
[Games involving alcohol aren't unfamiliar to her-- though she's never participated in any personally. The soldiers were too reverent of her to ask her to join, and she didn't have her sister's familiarity with them to insert herself into the competitions. But she is a Valkyrie, and she can hold her drink, and frankly she deserves this after defeating Levethan. So when there seems to be an opening, she steps up and nods in acknowledgement of her opponent.]
Well met. I need only a brief explanation of the rules before we start, if you would be so kind.
II. A ROYAL WALLFLOWER obligatory culture shock prompt
[But the dancing! Gwendolyn finds herself staring at the way her fellow revelers are moving. Even the most commonfolk festival dancing in Ragnanival isn't as wild as this. She would not abandon her yet-to-be-seen partner, but she isn't sure she could be a good match for him, either. Perhaps if she explains herself once they meet.
She wanders the edge of the dance floor, occasionally glancing down at her ensorcelled card to check if the glow is stronger or not, and then finally comes to a stop.]
Good evening. I am Gwendolyn of Ragnanival. It would be my pleasure to be your partner for the next dance. Though I will confess that I am ignorant of how to perform it.
[Straight and to the point!]
III. TO WAR don't piss off a valkyrie
[Good luck to whoever is next to Gwendolyn when the countdown hits zero: they're dealing with an experienced war general. She has no specific target in mind, but that also means that everyone is her target. And if they try to run, well...]
COWARD! Face the harbinger of your death!
[She kicks off from the ground and hovers in the air with her hip-wings for the briefest moment before divebombing at her target, letting loose a war cry, her sword extended.]
gwendolyn | odin sphere
'Tis a pity it could not be a vision of familiar faces. She would much prefer that over a ball. But seeing a throng of festive people, celebrating themselves and their lives, isn't so terrible either. It would be remiss to not to join them. With a little fluff of her wings at her hips, she steps out into the crowd.]
I. BOTTOMS UP
alas that's not how she'll win the game
[Games involving alcohol aren't unfamiliar to her-- though she's never participated in any personally. The soldiers were too reverent of her to ask her to join, and she didn't have her sister's familiarity with them to insert herself into the competitions. But she is a Valkyrie, and she can hold her drink, and frankly she deserves this after defeating Levethan. So when there seems to be an opening, she steps up and nods in acknowledgement of her opponent.]
Well met. I need only a brief explanation of the rules before we start, if you would be so kind.
II. A ROYAL WALLFLOWER
obligatory culture shock prompt
[But the dancing! Gwendolyn finds herself staring at the way her fellow revelers are moving. Even the most commonfolk festival dancing in Ragnanival isn't as wild as this. She would not abandon her yet-to-be-seen partner, but she isn't sure she could be a good match for him, either. Perhaps if she explains herself once they meet.
She wanders the edge of the dance floor, occasionally glancing down at her ensorcelled card to check if the glow is stronger or not, and then finally comes to a stop.]
Good evening. I am Gwendolyn of Ragnanival. It would be my pleasure to be your partner for the next dance. Though I will confess that I am ignorant of how to perform it.
[Straight and to the point!]
III. TO WAR
don't piss off a valkyrie
[Good luck to whoever is next to Gwendolyn when the countdown hits zero: they're dealing with an experienced war general. She has no specific target in mind, but that also means that everyone is her target. And if they try to run, well...]
COWARD! Face the harbinger of your death!
[She kicks off from the ground and hovers in the air with her hip-wings for the briefest moment before divebombing at her target, letting loose a war cry, her sword extended.]
IV. WILDCARD
[Feel free to write your own starter!]