garregmach | (no subject)

(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

I-I've, um, never tried that before.

[She tugs at a lock of hair, mind reeling at the sudden—or not so sudden—offer, and the implications of it.]

I'm, I'm good at breaking grapples? And... and I know a bit of dancing. Is... is brawling anything like that...?

In a sense, yes.

[ Felix studies her. It feels like a lifetime ago, when he tried to return her satchel and she pulled that lightning-fast move on him. Bernadetta has potential. ]

Alright, it’s settled. I’ll teach you. Let’s go to the training grounds. This will be easier there.

[ RIP Bernie. ]

Wait—wait, you mean... right now?

[Felix isn't one to waste time but this is a whole new level...]

What, are you otherwise engaged?

[ With a huff, he walks by her in the direction of the training grounds. ]

I’m going. Make up your mind.

[ Unfortunately, this is how Felix shows that he cares. If he can’t be there to protect her, he can help her protect herself. ]

I—uh—n-no...?

[She scuttles after him, not thinking particularly hard about this just yet...]

Good.

[ He gives her an approving nod, then continues walking. If any fireflies stray too close, he’ll whack them away with his sword scabbard. ]

I didn’t realize that you were here, [ he remarks casually. ] How long have you been in this place?

[ Despite a vague curiosity, he doesn’t ask what timeline she’s from; there’s too much potential to open up unknown wounds that way. ]

[She catches up with him, then stops dead so she can just... gape at him in shock.]

...Goddess have mercy, there's a third one.

Urgh. [ This is a sore spot. ] Yes. I am the third.

[ It’s a conversation he’s had to have several times now, and each subsequent time just whittles his patience away more and more. The idea that there are multiple versions of himself – both who have apparently made different choices than him – picks at the frayed threads of his insecurities. Is he forever doomed to be a stand-in for someone better? ]

If you have trouble telling us apart, just…ask.

Um, I... made a charm, for one of you. For, um, his ponytail.

[She can make another? M-Maybe that will work...]

...I already have your measurements, so I'll make another set of extra clothes, later on.

[ Felix is not typically prone to self-loathing, and yet…he hates the counterpart who got a handmade charm, just a little. ]

Don’t waste our resources on me.

[ And he unsheathes a sword. After a moment of deliberation, he reaches behind himself to cut off the ponytail. His freed hair spills into his face, immediately irritating him. ]

There.

[That same Felix had to be tearfully dissuaded from having a dramatic bridgetop fight with the other Felix, so.

It may be mutual?

But forget about that because Bernadetta has something new and exciting to freak out about, namely—]

Y-You—! You just... your hair! Why?!

Because I’m tired of being mistaken for someone I’m not.

[ The sword is sheathed once more. He stares at the ponytail of hair in his hand, then tosses it aside to the ground. ]

Hair will grow back. It’s fine.

[ In truth, his heart is pounding as if he’s fought a battle. Though he’s dismissing the action as inconsequential, it feels monumental to him. ]

A-At least... maybe... let me even out the edges for you?

[One hand raises as if to smooth the ends, before her fingers flinch back uncertainly . halfway in between.]

I don't... I'm... I'm not in your situation. So, I... I can't say if that was something . you should or shouldn't have done, but, um, I'm... I'm sorry if I made you feel like you had to do it.

[ The entrance to the training grounds looms in the distance; Felix eyes it longingly before turning away with a sigh. ]

Don’t misunderstand. This was my decision. You have nothing to worry about.

[ That said, he does appreciate the sentiment. Bernadetta is a good person. ]

We’ll take a quick detour to fix my hair. Then you’ll learn how to brawl. Deal?

[She's not sure she believes she didn't play a part in this, but...]

...deal. Just, uh... maybe leave the sword off, while we're doing that.

Alright.

[ Honestly, he’s grateful that she volunteered to do this; his hair is already infuriating him. If one more strand gets in his mouth…! ]

Where are we doing this?

Um, my room? A bench? Wherever you want to do it should be fine, I think.

[Pray there are no Black Eagles walking by at the worst possible moment, F3lix.]

Your room, [ comes the quick reply. ] Lead the way.

[ Because he honestly cannot remember which room is hers. It’s not as if he ever visited her when they were younger. ]

[To be fair, Bernadetta can't even recognize most of the former Golden Deer students, due to her reclusive ways back in the day. She leads him to her own room, cleaned and primped and as comfortable as she . has been able to make it, and remembers something as soon as she opens the door and lets him in. Specifically, it's the cozy blanket spread over her bed that jolts her memory.]

Oh! I should make you a quilt, too. The, uh, first Felix I met—not the one with the hair charm—stumbled in on me while I was first making them back at the beginning, when it kept raining. I have more fabric now, so I've been trying to make sure everyone I meet gets one, sooner or later.

[ Felix isn’t a nosy individual, but he does give the room a once-over as he enters. So, this is Bernadetta’s lair…uh, room. Her room. Intrigued by the quilt, he moves over to the bed and studies the pattern. It does look cozy. In his never-ending quest to avoid his other selves, Felix has camped out in an unused dormitory room on the first floor. These rooms tend to run much colder than the ones on the second floor – or so he’s noticed. A quilt would be nice. ]

…I won’t say no. You’re fairly talented.

[ Crafting, sewing, hair cutting, disarming swordsmen… What can’t Bernie do!? ]

[Finding a husband, if you ask her father.]

Okay! I'll . deliver it when I finish the new clothes. Um...

[Yeah, "don't waste our resources" was conveniently ignored thanks to the Dramatic Hair Cut.

How to do this...]

Why don't you sit down on the bed, and I'll get started?

[ Felix pauses. Only due to his friendship with Ingrid, this isn’t his first time in someone of the opposite sex’s room. However...sitting on Bernadetta’s bed feels like crossing an invisible line. He may not exercise often the genteel upbringing that being born noble demanded, but he’s still aware of what’s proper and what’s not. That said, perhaps propriety is a luxury better afforded to people who haven’t been to war. He’s never had qualms about sharing a sleeping space with female soldiers while on campaign. ]

You’ve come a long way since the start of school, [ he comments, finally taking a seat. ]

[Considering the sheer mortification some of her run ins with Dimitri have snowballed into, as of late, Bernadetta is temporarily immune to the inherent, knee-jerk embarrassment she ought to be feeling over a handsome, dubiously eligible bachelor perched on her bed.

Bernadetta rummages around in her desk and comes out with a pair of heavy silver sewing scissors, murky with age but freshly sharpened.]

Well, nobody's shoving me in a sack to get me from Point A to Point B, these days. I guess I have.

[She leans in and begins finger-combing his hair into a more workable style.]

Do you want to leave your bangs as they are?

[ The scissors are treated to a wary look – whether they’re a sewing instrument or weapon, they’ll be close to his vulnerable neck. Fortunately, this is Bernadetta; to his knowledge, she’s not accident-prone like Annette and Mercedes are. ]

Leave them.

[ Felix may not be a vain individual, but he doesn’t want to look into a mirror and see a stranger. Or Glenn, for that matter. Best to keep his bangs as close to his normal look as possible. ]

What’s this about a sack?

Oh, um...

[Snip, snip, snip...

She evens out the back of his hair, neat and tidy.]

That's... how my mother got me to the Monastery. She had some of the servants basically... kidnap me.