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“You are a CHEATING BASTARD!”
Sigurd’s head snaps up in alarm at what sounds like angry shouting. He’s hefting the last of the freshly-picked apples onto the counter of the cafe with Camilla, who gives him a strange look.
“Did you... hear that?”
“That was Corrin,” Camilla replies, setting down the apple in her hand. “Why is she shouting?”
The two of them leave the terrace, following the sounds of more yelling. It sounds like several people trying to speak over each other, their voices growing in volume. Sigurd can pick out a few from the din, and realizes that it’s the Emblems arguing. Camilla’s confusion doesn’t leave her face as she looks at Sigurd again, and he returns an equally helpless look.
“—had my fingers on your shoulder! Look! There’s gray on you!”
“No there isn’t! You can’t even reach this high up!”
“Don’t you dare start making short jokes, Hector—”
“It doesn’t count if there isn’t a mark, and that doesn’t count as a mark.”
“Yes it does! Look, it’s even in the shape of my finger!”
“How could you have possibly touched his shoulder if you cannot even reach it when standing?”
“He was hunched over! Come on, you saw him!”
“I’m with Corrin on this one. That’s clearly on there.”
“What if it was flung from her hand when she swiped at him? That would not count.”
“I mean, it’s a mark...”
“Then would this count?”
“Hey! Quit that! And it wouldn't count, because we’re paused!”
Someone is having a hysterical giggle fit in the background, punctuated by wheezing gasps of air. Sigurd finally sees what is happening as he approaches the grassy area on the other side of the pond. Several figures stand together, caught in a heated argument while covered in a medley of what he can only assume is paint. Corrin is shouting at Hector, who has his arms crossed. Marth and Leif try to inspect a spot on Hector’s shoulder, while Seliph flicks his fingers at Claude to shower him in globs of blue paint. Claude retreats and hides behind Roy, who raises both of his arms to avoid being caught in the crossfire. Lucina is busy putting her hands in a paint can, seemingly taking advantage of nobody paying attention. In the midst of all of this, Ephraim sits in the grass, a rare sight; as an even rarer sight, he is the one utterly losing his composure and choking on his laughter. Celica kneels next to him, smacking him between the shoulders and sending little splatters of gray around.
“…Might I ask what is happening?” says Sigurd, interrupting the chaotic scene. Everyone’s attention snaps to him; even Ephraim tries to calm himself down, his fist over his mouth to stifle himself.
“We were having a tag match,” Corrin starts explaining, hands on her hips. “And the rules we all agreed to were that if you get paint on someone, that counts as tag.”
“The rules we agreed to were that it had to touch ,” Hector argues back. “You can’t just do what Seliph is doing over there and throw paint at people.”
“I didn’t throw it at you! I tagged you fair and square!”
“Then how did you tag me on a spot that you can’t even reach?”
Roy makes a weird grumbling noise, and Sigurd catches sight of Claude reaching around him to try and swipe at Seliph in retaliation.
“ Boys ,” Celica chides them, and all three of them stop. She turns her head toward Hector, and Seliph immediately flicks another glob of paint at Claude while she isn’t looking.
“Cheating isn’t very becoming of an Emblem,” Camilla says, her voice no different than usual. She’s probably joking. Probably.
“Lying isn’t either!” Hector retorts back. “There’s no way Corrin could have— Lucina!”
She looks up, both hands still fully submerged in the can of paint.
“What? I’m preparing,” she replies. “No cheating here.”
Ephraim lets out another wheezing laugh.
“Hush, you.”
“‘m trying,” he manages to squeeze out.
“I absolutely can reach! Look!” Corrin demands, and stretches her arm up to put her fingertips right where the gray stain on Hector’s shoulder is. Camilla leans in to look, and Sigurd is about to do the same when he feels something wet slide quickly across his palm.
He jolts, bringing his hand up to see it streaked with bright blue. Marth has suddenly appeared at his side, also with his hands dripping blue. Other than that, he looks the perfect picture of innocence. His eyes flit to Hector, then to Sigurd, then back to Hector, and then again back to Sigurd.
Lucina has more , he mouths.
“Well, it’s too small to count!” Hector insists, and Corrin has her hands on her hips again. Their backs are turned to Sigurd as the two argue. He strides forward.
“Would this count as a tag?” he asks.
Splat .
Sigurd puts his paint-doused hand directly over the gray mark on Hector’s shoulder. Corrin stares at the new splatter helplessly. Ephraim goes into another laughing fit.
“SIGURD!” she shrieks, and immediately tries to swipe at him. He takes a quick step back, battlefield knowledge kicking into full gear as he avoids another attempt from her to tag him.
“I asked a simple question,” he replies, trying not to break off into laughter and failing.
“You dickhead! You stole my tag!”
She chases Sigurd as he flees from her, stumbles, and instead slaps Seliph in the middle of the chest on accident. Wasting no time at all, Seliph whacks Roy on the side.
“What? Not me again!” he bemoans, and Claude quickly takes off to put space between himself and the newly-tagged Roy. “Hey, you owe me for using me as a shield!”
“Nope! Happened in time-out, doesn’t count!”
“That is not fair! And blue has more members now!”
“Ephraim is too preoccupied with re-learning how to speak to participate,” Leif points out, and the Azure Twin is indeed still wheezing on the ground.
“Sigurd’s faster than all the rest of us!” Corrin grumbles. “And Lucina is still trying to cheat.”
“I am not!” she calls out, still in the same position as she was earlier. Sigurd is too distracted to realize that Camilla is behind him now, and feels a firm pat on his back. He cranes his neck to find a big gray splotch on his cape.
“Oops,” she giggles, and has enough sense to run away as soon as she sees Sigurd’s arm go up.