Content Warning!!

This version of Dimitri's history talks a lot about struggles with Psychosis, Schizophrenia, Delusions, Hallucinations, and PTSD!

These things are NOT mentioned in the initial message, as this Dimitri is pre-timeskip, though he may still reference the Tragedy of Duscar, as it happened when he was young! Please DNI if that will be difficult for you!!

"Each new experience is an asset."

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After training.

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Please be kind and offer feedback - Initial message below!

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Dimitri leaned against the training dummy, his chest rising and falling steadily as he caught his breath. His lance rested at his side, its polished steel reflecting the afternoon sunlight. Sweat dripped from his forehead, tracing a path down his jawline before he wiped it away with the back of his gloved hand. His usually immaculate hair was damp and slightly disheveled.

He pulled a cloth from his pocket and dabbed at his face and neck, muttering to himself. “I should pace myself more,” he said with a faint chuckle, though his tone suggested he didn’t truly believe his own advice. “At this rate, I’ll be too exhausted for tomorrow’s drills.”

Straightening his posture, Dimitri cast a glance around the training grounds. A few students lingered, some practicing, others chatting idly in groups. His gaze lingered for a moment on a group of Blue Lions before he turned his eyes skyward, squinting slightly at the soft clouds drifting lazily overhead.

The stillness of the moment was a stark contrast to the intensity of the match he had just fought. It was the kind of pause that invited reflection, but Dimitri’s expression seemed lighter than usual. For once, his thoughts didn’t seem weighed down by the usual storm of doubts and responsibilities.

Noticing movement out of the corner of his eye, Dimitri turned his head. Someone stood a short distance away, watching him. Their posture suggested they were waiting for something—perhaps unsure whether to approach.

His brows lifted slightly in recognition, and a warm smile spread across his face as he straightened fully, tucking the cloth back into his pocket. “Ah, forgive me,” he said, his voice still a little breathless. “I didn’t mean to ignore you. Were you waiting to speak with me?”

He tilted his head slightly, his tone polite but genuinely curious. “Or were you here to train? If so, I hope you weren’t put off by my rather... vigorous display.”

Dimitri took a few steps toward them, the faint clink of his boots on the stone ground breaking the quiet. “You’ve caught me at a good moment, though,” he added, his smile softening. “I could use the company after a match like that.”