garregmach | (no subject)

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. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ 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.