Post by Brynhild on Dec 23, 2015 2:05:33 GMT
The competitors were set... Brynhild had, for a lack of better choices, been promoted to the rank of -the person to make sure nobody cheated, including your fuzzy husbando there- by none other than Chaldea-san itself. So here they were, in the middle of a raging blizzard, waiting for the storm to subside, so the exercise could begin. Brynhild herself stood nearby the course, looking quite uncomfortable in this storm. Her hands kept clutching the hem of her skirt to prevent the storm from having it flutter practically everywhere, while her gaze kept wandering, the distraught expression mostly focused on the sky and the participants that... should have arrived by now. Naturally, with this storm they could just as well have achieved arriving here and she simply did not quite notice them at the distance, but alas there was little to be done about that.
Finally however, the storm mostly subsided, only occasional gusts of wind sending her long hair into a rippling, crazed mess. Brynhild held her hand against the sun, as she looked into the direction she'd thought to notice a number of shapes... here they came. Their garments too buzzling and bushing in the wind, they came along from Chaldea, as heroes that would march to battle, each of them carrying expressions that Brynhild could only assume were supposed to express absolute determination and the wish to bring victory to their respective countries... this race was not one for glory, for freedom or for power... no this race, was destiny itself! A fight for comradery, familiarity and utter devotion to the cause! They would go down in this race as heroes... but they would emerge... as patriots of the world!
Smirking in amusement over her own ridiculous thoughts, Brynhild sought the gaze of the one who would accompany her in this race, a man she would soon be tied to as literally as she was already metaphorically. Stretching her hand out towards Mordred, Brynhild smiled warmly, the knot in her heart losing itself slightly. Alas, such warmth did not come without its share of cold as Brynhild would soon notice...
All too soon in fact, as another gust of wind sent her skirt fluttering up against her belly.
Letting out a meak sound the proud valkyrie pulled down the hem of her skirt harshly once more, her face turning a deep shade of red for a moment before she found her composure again. Turning to the participants with an apologetic expression she then began to speak:"W-Well... my apologies for this misshap! In any case, greetings other participants... I see everyone is here? I hope I did not call you all out here on too short notice, but Chaldea's orders were rather... absolute." tilting her head as she grasped her skirt as nervously as tightly, she presented the other competitors with a wry smile, before instinctively looking towards her own partner as she spoke her next words:"As far as I am aware... the teams will consist of pairs, wherein Sir Oda Nobunaga and Sir Muramasa will be one team, Sir Percival and Lady Nana another, while Sir Mordred and I will form the final team. Is everyone in agreement with this?" looking into the round, Brynhild tried a smile once more, but was still a little too flustered and nervous about this endeavour, ending up in a rather unconvincing, awkward smirk... this would be a disaster...
Finally however, the storm mostly subsided, only occasional gusts of wind sending her long hair into a rippling, crazed mess. Brynhild held her hand against the sun, as she looked into the direction she'd thought to notice a number of shapes... here they came. Their garments too buzzling and bushing in the wind, they came along from Chaldea, as heroes that would march to battle, each of them carrying expressions that Brynhild could only assume were supposed to express absolute determination and the wish to bring victory to their respective countries... this race was not one for glory, for freedom or for power... no this race, was destiny itself! A fight for comradery, familiarity and utter devotion to the cause! They would go down in this race as heroes... but they would emerge... as patriots of the world!
Smirking in amusement over her own ridiculous thoughts, Brynhild sought the gaze of the one who would accompany her in this race, a man she would soon be tied to as literally as she was already metaphorically. Stretching her hand out towards Mordred, Brynhild smiled warmly, the knot in her heart losing itself slightly. Alas, such warmth did not come without its share of cold as Brynhild would soon notice...
All too soon in fact, as another gust of wind sent her skirt fluttering up against her belly.
Letting out a meak sound the proud valkyrie pulled down the hem of her skirt harshly once more, her face turning a deep shade of red for a moment before she found her composure again. Turning to the participants with an apologetic expression she then began to speak:"W-Well... my apologies for this misshap! In any case, greetings other participants... I see everyone is here? I hope I did not call you all out here on too short notice, but Chaldea's orders were rather... absolute." tilting her head as she grasped her skirt as nervously as tightly, she presented the other competitors with a wry smile, before instinctively looking towards her own partner as she spoke her next words:"As far as I am aware... the teams will consist of pairs, wherein Sir Oda Nobunaga and Sir Muramasa will be one team, Sir Percival and Lady Nana another, while Sir Mordred and I will form the final team. Is everyone in agreement with this?" looking into the round, Brynhild tried a smile once more, but was still a little too flustered and nervous about this endeavour, ending up in a rather unconvincing, awkward smirk... this would be a disaster...