(no subject)

[starfelled]

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. ]

Comments

cw for AM and bernie's shitty dad

[persecutetioncomplex]

a-i. childhood: loss

"It's monstrous," [a maid murmurs to the other.] "That poor boy—I heard the mob milord hired abandoned him broken and bleeding in the woods."

"Goddess preserve him," [the other grips her chest and shakes her head.] "To think—to think the poor young lady can't even have a friend without—"

"Hettie, hush!"

"No! No, it's not... it's not right, Cathal, and you know it! He never even lets her out, and now this? Why, if her uncle was still alive—"

"Well he isn't," [is Cathal's hot rejoinder.] "He isn't, and... and what the Count says goes."

"The Count says commoners are trash."

"Oh, you! Don't twist my meaning..."

[Their bickering fades as they head down the hall, but hidden around the corner, little Bernie doesn't follow. She can't even hear them over the static roaring in her ears. Her knees gave out at the word 'mob,' muted by the plush carpets of the estate. Her throat clogs on nothing but grief and guilt and self-hatred and fear, and chokes her to the point that she can't even cry.

She can't breathe.

She can't breathe.]


a-ii. childhood: lessons

"A proper wife," [her father announces,] "is eloquent, but reserved. Talented, but demure. Enticing, but chaste."

[Her father snaps a riding crop against his palm, and Bernadetta knows he has never used it on her, will never use it on her because welts are unbecoming. Because bruises lower the bride price. Because he doesn't need to; the sound alone is enough to make her cower in the chair she is firmly bound to—one tether across her shoulders, for posture. One to keep her ankles crossed, like a lady, and another at her knees, because a Varley does not splay like some common slattern, girl!

One more around her waist, to prohibit any escape attempts.]

"Unfortunately, you have neither talents—" [snap] "—nor eloquence—" [snap] "—nor even the barest shred of appeal, compared to other noble ladies your age." [His eyes are cold. They are always so terribly, terribly cold.] "But if I cannot instill virtue, I shall at least ensure you have some value as an obedient wife. A wife that does not unduly trouble whatever husband is merciful enough to accept her. A wife that speaks when spoken to, and at least can maintain etiquette, if nothing more."

[She's shaking. She doesn't want him here, doesn't want his eyes on her, doesn't want to listen, but—]

"I will be leaving. Until I return, you will not move from this spot. You will not make so much as a single sound. Am I understood?"

[Her eyes prick with tears. Her jaw feels as though it is glued shut.]

"Bernadetta von Varley! Am. I. Understood?"

[Slowly, she nods. Her bangs spill over her cheeks.

The door slams, and she's left alone with the silence, yet again.]


b. first day black and blues

[She's going to die. She's going to die.

Bernadetta doesn't know much, as she's gagged and shoved, kicking and flailing, into a sack. She doesn't know why the servants would turn on her, they're usually as kind as they can be, when it doesn't... contradict... and order.

—oh Goddess. Oh, Goddess, it's so much worse than death, she realizes that now, there's only one possible explanation!

Her father... has finally found a suitor who will take her. She's being dragged to the altar, isn't she?!

She hears the slam of a carriage door, feels the clatter of wheels on cobblestone, and lets out a muffled wail of panic.]

"Milady! Milady, please calm down—the Countess gave us strict instructions, and we have a schedule to keep!"

[....her mother?

Bernadetta settles down, cautiously optimistic. The footman sighs in relief.]

"There, that's better. It's a bit of a journey, but once we're closer to Garreg Mach Monastery, we'll let you out to change into your new uniform."

[Bernadetta screams through the gag anew, burning with terror at this new revelation and all the accompanying implications until she blacks out.]


c. wildcard

[If you want anything more personalized or have a specific request, fire away.]

a-ii

[1x1]

[ The vision of the memory may fade, but Felix remains transfixed with dull horror where he stands. He swallows harshly, throat bone dry. Though he’d heard rumors about Count Varley – hushed whispers spoken behind hands as classmates gossiped – he doubts anyone could have predicted the extent of the man’s cruelty. Felix may be no stranger to a father’s delusional expectations, but this memory makes his childhood seem a veritable paradise of love and acceptance. Sick with a quiet rage that simmers just below boiling, he reigns in his temper before Bernadetta mistakes its source and target. ]

Bernadetta, [ he begins as gently as he can, not approaching her just yet. ] You’re okay now. He’s not here.

[ And if he were, Felix knows he’d be in line to take the man’s head clean off his shoulders. ]

[persecutetioncomplex]

........

[Her jaw is clenched shut, and her breath comes in shallow little pants. She has—told people about this, before. She has been comforted, been assured that her father was the wrong one, not her.

But... she's never felt like this before, helpless and scared and humiliated to have one of those many, many sessions actually . witnessed.]

I—that... it, it was, um...

[1x1]

[ Well, at least she’s speaking – fumbled and halted though it may be. That’s a start. Drawing closer, he peers down at her in vague alarm. Comforting others has never been a skill he possesses. But Bernadetta is…was a friend, once. He can make an effort, for her sake. ]

You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want.

[ A beat. ]

But if you do…I’m listening.

[persecutetioncomplex]

I—that is, it's—he's... he can't touch me now. So it's...

[Finding the right words is a task and a half on a normal day. Now? It feels all but impossible.

Still, she tries.]

It's... not fine. But i-it's... it's over, right? B-besides, nobody wants a ghost bride. I won't be getting sold off any time soon.

[That was a horrible excuse for a joke, but she's upset and embarrassed and fumbling and can't even keep straight which Felix does or doesn't know she... fell, before ending up here. She's too out of sorts to realize she has a third Felix to factor into the equation, now.]

[1x1]

[ The “ghost bride” comment throws him off, but Felix distractedly reasons it has something to do with her fondness for hiding away behind closed doors where the world doesn’t know she exists. ]

Bernadetta. [ The name is spoken in an even, albeit firm tone. ] It’s over. No one can force you to do anything you don’t want. If they try to? Use what you’ve learned at the Officers Academy. And if you don’t want to do that, call on me.

[ He’ll gladly wet his blades in the blood of her would-be suitors. Anyone who would take a bride by force is scum deserving death, in his book. ]

[persecutetioncomplex]

...it's okay, Felix. Really.

[She musters up a smile for him, weak but sincere.]

It's... it's over. And nobody here wants to make me do anything, right? ...right?

[Tell her she's right, before new worries sprout, quick.]

a-ii

[crimsonflower]

[Edelgard cannot even make it to the end of the memory without an outburst. The scene makes her absolutely furious, and the moment her father reaches "a wife that speaks when spoken to" she hurls herself at him with a punch. Her blow lands on nothing. Cleaving through the image like cutting through mist. The memory shimmers, and takes a bit to resume once Edelgard has interrupted it.]

Disgusting! What an absolutely abhorrent man.

[She knew he was bad, but her knowledge of the depth of his crimes did not go this far.]

[persecutetioncomplex]

Oh, u-um...

[What to say? What words would... would make this right, or less upsetting?]

That's... that's probably why, uh, why the 'you' I remember put him under h-house arrest...?

[There! Talking about it without... you know... talking about it.

That's better.

.........isn't it?]

[crimsonflower]

I also put him under house arrest. However if it would not upset you too greatly perhaps it would be better to let him hang.

[What a disgusting man. Does he treat the rest of his family the same way? His own wife?]

[persecutetioncomplex]

Wh... you—you mean like... hang hang?!

[crimsonflower]

Tell me this: does that man contribute anything positive to others? To his family?

[persecutetioncomplex]

...N... well, I want to say no.

[But...]

I... never heard anything about him as a politician o-or anything, though...? He... said matters like that didn't concern me.

[The literal Varley heir.]

a-i

[azuremoon]

[Though Dimitri still has quite a temper, he has learned to control it for the most part. Seeing this particular memory, however, makes something inside him snap temporarily. Everything he knows about Bernadetta's father is utterly disgusting, but this — this isn't him training her to be a good wife or heir or anything of the sort. It's just sadistic, killing an unrelated child to make a point or to stop her from associating with commoners or whatever flimsy justification the man came up with.

He remains silent as he stands behind her, trying to regain his composure before he says anything, but the force of his anger is such that she can probably feel it, anyway.]

[persecutetioncomplex]

...it was... the first and last time I disobeyed him, as a child. H-Having a secret commoner friend, I mean.

[She sniffles, and rubs at her eyes. Her shoulders hitch as she tries to calm down, hit particularly hard by this one.]

He... he lived. M-my... the boy who used to be my friend. I never saw him again; I... I never tried, and I don't think he did, either. After... well, after, I was too scared to try to befriend anybody; noble or commoner. Dorothea was... she was the first one I dared to, years and years later.

[She turns and offers a weak, watery smile.]

She, um... she promised to break my father's arms, if he tried anything like that with her.

[azuremoon]

[The combination of seeing her so distraught and hearing that the boy lived is enough to bring him back. Dimitri takes a long, deep breath, exhaling the worst of his fury with it. Only then does he approach, lightly placing his hands on her shoulders.]

I am glad to hear that he survived. ...still, that is not something you should have had to endure. It is true that I was discouraged from having friendships with commoners, but not like that.

[And honestly, it wasn't even Dimitri's father that discouraged it so much as his tutors. Since Dimitri always had Felix, Ingrid, and Sylvain, he just never pushed very hard.

He also had Edelgard for a period of time, but that's not something he's as open with.]

[persecutetioncomplex]

[She sort of... wilts forward, letting her forehead fall against his chest. It... It hurts, to look at him and hear words like that. It's so very kind it makes her ache, from her throat to her heart.]

He always... always said the absolute worst things, about commoners. When I was little, I wasn't allowed out much and—and by the time he . wanted me to socialize with noble children, it... I had started hiding away on my own, rather than being shut away.

[azuremoon]

[For the most part, Dimitri has stopped wearing his armor. Even with Bernadetta making them all an extra set of clothing, there's no reason for him to put the extra strain on what he does have. Besides, it makes him sweat more, which means he has to wash them more, which means they wear out faster! It's undoubtedly more comfortable to rest her head on cloth than metal, so at least it works out in this scenario.

Dimitri lightly drapes his arms around her in response, one large hand resting on the back of her head like he can somehow shield her from her own memories if she keeps her face hidden.]

A man that holds such opinions about the people he is supposed to protect should be removed from office.

[To put it kindly. His head should be removed from his shoulders, in Dimitri's opinion.]

...you are actually quite resilient, you know. Many people would have given up permanently.

[persecutetioncomplex]

[Her fingers clench at the hem of his shirt, loose but not limp—like a child, almost.]

I... felt like I had, for a long time. But, I didn't... I didn't want to. I wanted more. I... was scared, and I ran away a lot. But, I wanted to be better.

b

[cynicfelixity]

[Shock is an understatement to describe what paints Felix's expression at the memory unfolding before him. He's heard some unsavory rumors about Count Varley, of course, but for Bernadetta's mother to have resorted to such means to get her to the monastery...]

That's... rough, [he says, averting his gaze from the memory. It kind of sounds lame to his ears, but what is he supposed to say to that, really? "I'm sorry you had to go through that" hardly sounds fitting either, and it rolls off the tongue worse than the words he chose to speak.]

[persecutetioncomplex]

It's...

[She rubs the back of her neck, not quite sure what to say. As youthful traumas go, that one didn't actually rank, technically speaking. And to still see someone so taken aback by it...

There's so much in her life that's frightening and normal. As time goes by, she finds that those things are apparently mean to be frightening because they ought to be abnormal.]

It's in the past, now. You, uh, you might not remember, but I used to be way more insistent on staying inside than I am now.

[cynicfelixity]

Yes, you were.

[Felix's eyes are drawn to Bernadetta, his gaze a little more intense than is perhaps warranted.]

You... really have come a long way. How did you manage it?

[Another question down the list of inappropriate ones Felix tends to ask, not that it occurs to him, now that Bernadetta doesn't seem as worked up about the memory.]

[persecutetioncomplex]

I... well...

[She twists her fingers in front of her, more than a little embarrassed at the praise-by-agreement.]

I tried. Again, and again, and again. Some days, I didn't get far at all, and some days were so bad I holed up in my room for a week. But... but, there were people who waited for me, and there were things I still wanted, even if I was afraid. So... I tried. Day after day, until I had managed to myself up a bit, somehow.

[She peeks up, smiling weakly.]

I'd... still rather be behind a nice, safe door more often than not, honestly. But... even if trying is easier now, it doesn't mean I do it any less. I just... I just have other ways to feel safe now, too.

[cynicfelixity]

Huh. Training yourself, in other words.

[At least, that's how it all sounds to Felix. Something of an emotional exercise in lieu of a physical one.

Satisfied with the response for the most part, he nods.]

It's good to see you outside anyway. It'd be a shame for someone like you to stay indoors all the time.

[persecutetioncomplex]

I... I guess you could say that. Huh. I've... I've never thought of it like that.

[But leave it to Felix to point that out. She has to laugh, a little.

His next sentence brings her up short, though.]

Some... someone like me? W-What do you mean?

[Those words never even mean anything good when she says them.]