garregmach | (no subject)

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A mist settles in over the monastery.

Is it morning? Night? Who can say? Today, the day feels endless. The sun is nowhere to be seen — or had it been at all? Instead, a curious green glow engulfs Garreg Mach, like an eternal twilight settling in. Time seems to be paused almost, though the wildlife in and around the area continues to act as though nothing is wrong. As though this is perfectly normal. As though it is natural for the skies to be dark, with not a single star in sight, and for the sun to be forgotten in the mist that lingers. The paths are at least lit by small orbs of light, fireflies flitting about.

However, should one come into contact with one of those fireflies, a memory of the past will be projected for all in the close vicinity to see. Joyous occasions, tragic events — they don't seem to discern one way or another. Perhaps it would be best to watch your step for now, though.

Of course, after lingering for about a day, the strange ambience will fade into what appears to be a normal night at Garreg Mach. It's as if nothing had happened at all. Did it? Or was it all simply a shared hallucination?

[ ● MEMSHARE POST. Coming into contact with the fireflies will share a memory of your character's with those around them. You can top-level with a memory to start out or have people tag you and determine it then, whatever. I don't make the rules (except I do and I say yolo). Have fun with it!
● Open posts like this one are flipping to a two week schedule instead of a weekly one.
● Because of the above, the last bit is there for people who'd maybe like to play out aftermath threads later on but don't want to wait for a new post or make a new one.
● Settings have been slightly updated. ]

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[Claude just got here and what is this. This is not his beautiful house. This is not his beautiful united Fodlan. It's not a weird dream either, that was the first thing he checked.

A firefly lands on his arm.

Claude takes another step backwards, away from the boys that had followed him all the way out here. Green eyes dart to the cliff edge behind him, then back to them.

"Nowhere else to run, coward!" One of the boys taunts with a nasty grin. Claude bristles, his grip on his bow tightening.

"It's five against one and I'm the coward? Seems like you're too scared to face me by yourself." He retorts, chin jutting up stubbornly. He couldn't let them see how intimidated he really was. They were all several years older than him, at least a head and shoulders taller, stronger, and with more combat experience. It'd be a hard fight against any one of them at this short a distance, but not as impossible as trying to take all of them on at once.

His words have the desired effect. The de facto leader of their little group charges him with a shout, axe raised over his head, and Claude barely manages to dodge. The other boys hang back, jeering taunts and slurs and cutting off any chance of escape.

He doesn't have the distance to draw his bow, but he grabs an arrow from his quiver and wields it like a dagger, plunging the sharp into the arm still holding the axe. His attacker yells, dropping his weapon and slamming his other shoulder into Claude's chest. He stumbles back, sand and rock crumbling under his feet.

He falls.

Immediately he remembers something Nader told him about wyvern riders-- how they survive falls. He goes limp, hits the desert sand with a sickening crunch, bouncing once and landing on his side. At first it's the shock, the pain, that keeps him from moving.

There's a rush of footsteps above him, voices.

"Did you just kill him?" "He stabbed me, that little shit!" "Hey, half-breed! Are you alive?"

Claude keeps his eyes closed, doesn't move. If they think he survived the fall, they'll come down and finish the job.

"Good riddance." One of them spits, and it hits him on the shoulder. He doesn't move. Not until he counts five sets of footsteps walking away, until they fade out of earshot.

He bites his lip to try and stifle any sound of pain, tries to move his fingers, his hands, his arms. Tears of pain flood his vision as he pushes himself up to sitting; he's shaking, everything hurts. One of his legs is bent at an entirely unnatural angle.

He has to set it, make a splint somehow... and make himself scarce in case they come back to double-check. He has to find his way back home somehow, before it gets too dark and cold. And he will. But first, he curls the knee of his intact leg to his chest, wraps his arms around himself, and sobs.

Well, that was a vivid memory he'd rather not think about. He shakes his head as if to dislodge the remnants of it, noticing the firefly take flight.] Interesting...

[[ooc: if you want a different memory/want Claude to see someone else's memory instead, let me know! You're free to request something from canon (verdant wind in particular) or a different kind of memory (fluffy/angsty/embarrassing/smutty??)... It's pretty much all good, I'm trash for memory share... Claude just got here so he will be Around, exploring all the places.]]

Edited 2019-10-20 05:31 (UTC)

[ It would feel like intruding, but—

Actually, there's no "buts" about it. It's intrusive for all of them, and there seems to be no end to the fireflies that linger about the monastery. Still, when she sees Claude — a Claude, but which one? that's always the question here, isn't it — she approaches him, even as the memory plays out, her footsteps purposefully heavy against the stone pathway.

Hilda had always had some inkling about his childhood, based on his off-the-cuff remarks and her own observations (not to mention her suspicions, which she'd never voice because what would be the point?). Though nothing surprises her, her brows still crease with concern. Something about this sounds familiar . . .

She speaks up after a moment, approaching him. ]

They're everywhere, apparently.

[ At that, she gestures. The fireflies, that is. ]

[Which one, indeed. Especially when Claude is so good at playing off his utter bafflement at the current situation. Running into Hilda is a pleasant surprise, though.]

I noticed.

[Had she seen it too? Given her expression and bearing, he thinks probably yes. Claude smiles wryly.]

Is that sort of thing normal around here?

[ She might have remained in the dark, too, but his words betray him. Hilda briefly looks surprised as the realization hits her.

Three. There are three of him here now.

. . . Hopefully this one wasn't another (potentially) dead one. ]

Huh? Wait, did you just get here?

[ Better to cut to the chase. Only some of her surprise is feigned. ]

[He doesn't have enough information to know that she might not already know that, honestly.

He looks around, as though seriously considering whether he just got here or not.]

Well, this isn't at all how Garreg Mach looked when last I saw it, so... I'd say so, yes.

Ohhh.

[ Fascinated, almost. She peers over at him, squinting slightly. He doesn't seem surprised to see her, at least? That's a good sign. Better than the last time.

(the fact that there was a last time still makes her head spin.)

She hums, lifting a hand to tap at her chin. ]

Soooo . . . when did you last see it, exactly?

[Now, why oh why does he get the distinct feeling Hilda knows something he doesn't? Yeah, yeah, karma is a bitch, etc. etc., he doesn't have to like it.]

Soooo... why do you need the clarification? [He mimics her tone, lofting an eyebrow. They'd all mostly gone their separate ways after the battle with Nemesis, making promises to visit and write.

He hadn't done either yet, but it hadn't been that long. Just a week or two. For as much as there was for them to do with rebuilding Fódlan, coming back to Almyra had been keeping him pretty damn busy too.]

Ah ah! I asked first.

[ If she seems to be relishing this, well— that's because she absolutely is. It's not often that they're in these positions, after all.

Hilda smiles playfully, the horrible childhood memory pushed aside for now. As far as distractions go, this one was a good one for her. ]

[It'd be a better distraction for Claude too if she told him what's going on already...

He shakes his head on a sigh, shrugging in a gesture of surrender.]

Alright, you win. I last saw it about two weeks ago, as we were all leaving.

[And he's still being vague because... well. It's Claude, after all. He's not really going to just let her win like that.]

My question now. Why didn't you already know that?

[ "As we were all leaving." That could mean anything — just like him, really. Still, since he didn't react to her the way the other one did, she can only assume he knew Garreg Mach as their base. Otherwise, he would have left it in this state, and it would have looked mostly the same since he last saw it.

Sometimes, when she really wants to, Hilda can slide the pieces together. Sometimes.

She lowers her hands, clasping them behind her back as she peers up at him. ]

Let's hear your theory, Mister Leader Man.

[ Is she challenging him? Maybe. But it's better than tense conversations she'd had with some of the others. It's certainly better than the memory she'd shown Dimitri, and some of the other images she'd seen.

And certainly, better for the both of them than thinking about that poor child at the bottom of the cliff. ]

I bet you already know the answer to your question.

[Claude puts a hand to his chin in an over-exaggerated gesture of deep thought, though the proverbial wheels in his mind are spinning busily away.

He doesn't have a whole lot to go on, other than "weird magic bullshit" and her reactions to him. But that's enough for a start.] While I appreciate your well-placed confidence in me, you are the first person I've run into here. Even a genius like me can only do so much with so little information. But given the state of Garreg Mach, [and the little trick with the fireflies] I feel it's a safe assumption that time works strangely here... so, you want a point of reference for what I remember last.

[He pauses, remembering her surprise at his recent arrival. So, she'd expected him to be somewhat familiar with what was going on here already.] And with time being all weird, it's possible you've seen me around, but not... me, me. If that makes any sense. Am I on the right track?

[ Hilda brightens, clapping her hands together once. ]

See? I knew you could do it! And that's a lot easier than having me explain all of it, isn't it?

[ Less work for her is always a win in the end.

She lowers her hands, smiling warmly over at him. ]

Anyway, you're the third Claude I've run into here.

[Please, Hilda, he knows when his ego is being stroked. He shakes his head on a fond grin.]

I really shouldn't feed into that laziness of yours, should I? The third, huh... We're going to need a system to distinguish people, at this rate.

[And here comes a firefly, landing on the back of Claude's knee.

The memory this time is more innocuous, back during their Academy days-- Claude with an injured leg, Hilda reluctantly carrying him on her back. Their conversation is light.

"Now that I think about it, the last time I was on someone's back like this, it wasn't too different from now. I was just a lot smaller."

"Oh yeah? What, did you fall out of a tree or something?"

A laugh from Claude in the memory despite a bitter look in his eyes, not visible to the Hilda in the memory. "Something like that."

Claude in the present shakes the firefly off his leg and the memory fades out on the two teenagers, still chatting. Damn fireflies, calling him out on his bad coping mechanism of turning trauma into amusing anecdotes.] Heh. I'd forgotten all about that.

[ She frowns, brows furrowing at that. How long ago had that been now? At least five years, of course. Longer? Time really doesn't have any meaning here, does it.

Of course, that memory combined with the one from before paints . . . quite the picture.

It takes a moment for her to muster up a bit of a half-smile. ]

I guess it wasn't a tree, huh.

[ It's a quiet response — not pushing or anything, but a gentle way of letting him know she knows.

At least, she knows he didn't end up injured because he fell out of a tree. His bigger secrets — she's had her suspicions, but it's Claude. She's never pushed or pried and doesn't intend on starting now. It doesn't matter, anyway. ]

I did say it was something like falling out of a tree.

[Acknowledgement of her acknowledgement. He knows that she knows that he knows that she knows, etc. etc. Once again, he finds himself quietly grateful for all of Hilda's Hilda-ness.]

Not all the stories I told you about my childhood were like that. [What with the actually-very-fucked-up....ness.]

Yeah, but talk about an understatement.

[ Please, falling out of a tree is not the same thing as falling off a cliff.

She shakes her head, tapping at her chin idly. ]

I dunno. I distinctly recall a story about you, your parents, and being tied to a horse. Your childhood sounded pretty exciting, Claude — and not in a good way.

[Naturally, Claude pokes his head in everywhere there are books, and the knight's hall seems to be no exception. As he slips inside, he'll find a large man already there, squatting before the hearth to tend the fire. His cloak and armor are neatly tucked into a corner, changing his silhouette enough that it wouldn't be too strange for him to not recognize him at first.

Dimitri recognizes Claude, though, and he rises and turns toward him with a small.]

Ah, hello, Claude. I have just finished with the fire if you are feeling a chill.

[Indeed he doesn't recognize Dimitri for just a moment, though that may have less to do with his lack of armor and cloak and more to do with the last time he saw him... well.

It's probably a bit obvious to Dimitri by now, the last context Claude saw him in. The brief flash of shock, a complex tangle of grief and regret, confusion at how calm and not murderous this Dimitri seems-- all gone in an instant, covered up with a smile.

Right. Time is weird here. Different people have experienced different things. This Dimitri is an entirely different one than who Claude had seen at Gronder Field.

Totally normal. Okay.]

Oh, don't get up on my account.

[As quick as it is, Dimitri spots it all the same. It's an expression he's becoming quite used to seeing. And isn't that a disturbing thought? His smile fades slightly as he approaches, tugging off one of his gloves and holding his hand out.]

Go ahead. It is a little eerie, is it not? I can assure you I am very much alive.

[Claude looks down at the offered hand, and it takes him a moment longer than he'd ever admit to to follow the logic. He smiles and shakes his head.] Hey, I believe you. If you're dead, you certainly don't look it. [He doesn't look like a pincushion for lances, for one.

One hand rises to rub at the back of his neck. There's a strange sort of relief in seeing Dimitri like this.] So it happens often enough that you've come to expect it? I imagine that's pretty unsettling.

[Well, so long as he's not going to be sitting there secretly wondering the whole time if Dimitri is a ghost. Dimitri runs that hand through his own hair instead with a humorless laugh.]

I will not deny that it is disturbing, but it makes sense. Considering my behavior, my survival was a miracle. From the point of view of most people here, I have died.

[Brow creasing slightly, he glances away.]

There is no use dwelling on what might have been.

[Claude stares after him thoughtfully for a moment, reconciling this Dimitri with the one he saw at Gronder-- and the one he remembers from their shared school days.]

I suppose not... but I am glad to see you alive and well. [An unusually genuine thought for him to share, but these are extremely unusual circumstances.] We may as well make the most of things, while we're stuck here.

[Marianne coming from... you guessed it... the stables! Now that she doesn't have a war to fight or lessons to attend, she spends all her time with the horses. It's... kind of amazing, really, even if the monastery is still in mid-shambles and she never knows who next she'll bump into, but it's fine. Life is good, right? Dorte loves her! She loves Dorte! She... is less fond of these fireflies, but... That's no reason to shut herself indoors. She's come so far, after all.

She's come far enough that as soon as she spots Claude at the corner of her eye, she turns in his direction, intent on at least coming over and greeting him!! five years ago? she'd have probably melted into the shadows and prayed she wasn't spotted...]

Hello, Claude! Um, are you headed somewhere? I was just on my way back inside... I think there are less fireflies indoors.

[she thinks.................... and as if on cue, a single firefly twinkles right behind her....]

Hey, Marianne!

[Ah, now here's a pleasant surprise! Marianne's looking to be in a pretty good mood, despite the fireflies, though Claude has a pretty good guess as to why considering where she'd come out from.]

Just checking things out. How's Dorte? See any horse memories in there?

[Okay he's actually a little curious now if the fireflies work on animals too.

Around them, the fog forms into a memory-- funnily enough, taking place at Garreg Mach. The Golden Deer, sans Claude and Professor Byleth, gathered together before the march on Enbarr. The conversation is a lot of their usual banter, but there's a part that sticks out to Claude, something he's sure he's never heard anyone say anything like about or to him before.

"They're like the wind and the trees..."

"Huh? Claude and the professor are? What does that even mean, and who is which?"

"Oh, um... I was just thinking that if we're the birds, then those two are like the trees and the wind. The professor is a great tree that kindly embraces us and watches over us as we perch on its branches.. And Claude is like the wind, pushing us forward as we soar across the open sky..."

Claude stares, stunned speechless. It's a good thing only Marianne is here to witness such a rare and embarrassing moment.

"Hm. The metaphor about the professor is solid, but I think Claude just blows us around on a whim."

And there's Hilda, bringing him back down to earth even through someone else's memory. It breaks him out of his silence and he tries to play it off, rubbing the back of his neck with a soft laugh, though he's still pretty clearly touched by Marianne's words.]

You... really think that about me?

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claude 2 electric boogaloo feat. more childhood trauma and vaguely vw spoilers ig

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