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

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.

[ That’s absolutely not what he expected to hear, and it’s only the threat of ruining his hairstyle further that keeps him from jerking in surprise. ]

Bernadetta…what is wrong with your family?

I... I don't know. People...

[Snip... snip...]

It took me a while, to see that they weren't doing normal things.

[ Felix falls silent. There’s so much he doesn’t know about Bernadetta, but it’s abundantly clear to him that her preference for isolation was never innate, but rather learned. A coping mechanism, probably. It makes his chest tight. ]

They weren’t, [ he says, even though she already knows; somehow, it feels important to reinforce that. ] Your father is a monster masquerading as human. Disgusting.

[ She deserved – deserves, really – so much better. ]

I've, um...

[Her voice is very small. She runs her fingers through his hair once more, to shake loose any clinging lingerers.]

I've never... heard it put quite like that. But I... I can't say you're wrong. A lot of people think that, and have told me so since these... bugs started floating around.

[Edelgard now wants to have him hung, most memorably.]

...how does that feel? Ah, let me see if I have a mirror, somewhere...

[ There’s something oddly soothing about having someone else handle his hair. He doesn’t remember what it might have felt like for his parents or brother to have touched it, if they ever did. ]

A mirror isn’t necessary. I trust your judgment.

[ Once she’s done, he’ll reach back to run his fingers through his hair himself. It feels…odd. The new length will take some getting used to. Felix hasn’t worn his hair short since he was a very young child. ]

Others have seen your memories of that wretched man?

Edelgard saw what you did. Dimitri...

[She sighs, the sound stuttering and sad, as she packs the scissors away.]

Dimitri saw what happened after I secretly made friends with a commoner boy, when I was little.

[She offers a weak smile.]

I have more memories of him than not. It kind of... kind of comes with having such a cloistered upbringing, unfortunately.

[ As she puts away the scissors, he idly wonders if there’s a reason why that memory in particular was shown to two different people. It makes sense that a more impactful memory would be projected by the fireflies than a weaker one, but is there significance to why he and Edelgard both saw the memory of her father? ]

I hate to say this, but perhaps your time is best spent inside until we determine what’s happening. These…don’t seem like pleasant memories to be reminded of.

[ The brawling training will have to wait. The training grounds are open to the air, after all, and Bernadetta seems to have especially bad luck with the fireflies. ]