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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The wind? That was generous of her.

[ The timid, gloomy girl he'd known at Garreg Mach had eventually followed the rest to Teach, if roughly a month before Edelgard's unveiling, likely owing to Hilda's attempts to include her. She'd never accompanied Margrave Edmund to the Roundtable, and for obvious reasons he hadn't the opportunity to speak with her at the battle of Derdriu.

But the woman he'd met here had matured considerably, possessed of a fragile but determined confidence. He'd been glad to find her so, to know her now. And he does appreciate the comparison. ]

Of course,

[ Dropping one arm to gesture. ]

just as wind belongs to the sky, so too people to the earth. Your world's Claude, then.

[ The faith that he has, to the extent he has faith, is reserved for the land, the sky, the oceans. Aaand that's about as close as he'll get to speaking of it. ]

Anyway, I recommend you try to find the time.

[Yes, that sounds about right. A Claude that belongs to the sky... what a lovely notion. A part of Dimitri is envious, really. He's not going to have any freedom whatsoever once Fodlan is united. If he doesn't give the restoration his all, he might as well be spitting on the graves of those that laid their lives down for him.]

I will try, [he says, though his polite smile makes it clear that he thinks he has no time for it.]

At any rate, I should get going. I do not want to intrude further than I have.

[Nor does he want Claude seeing any of his memories from when he was nothing but a vicious beast. He's too ashamed of them. Dimitri starts to turn to go, but that eyepatch of his impairs his peripheral vision, and he walks right into one of the fireflies.

---

The sky is a brilliant blue above Derdriu. The city itself is mostly intact, though it's clear that a battle just happened all the same. Dimitri stands with the professor as Claude approaches, wearing one of those unreadable smiles of his.

"You really did come to help us... you must be a bunch of soft-hearted suckers, eh?"

Dimitri sounds rather fond as he responds, "If you really felt that way, you would not have set up a defensive battle in the hopes that we would come. It worked out, only because we made it in time..." He trails off, disbelief clear in his tone. "Were you really so confident we would answer the call?"

"Of course," Claude says with a decisive nod. "I knew you wouldn't hesitate to put yourself second and come running to our aid. You and I are cut from different cloth. I wouldn't make a move unless I could gain something from it. You've always been just the opposite."]

Interesting... is it showing this because I was remembering it? [Dimitri asks, turning back toward the scene. He brings a hand to his chin, watching thoughtfully as it continues to play. It's not like there's anything he's ashamed of here, after all, and it heartens him to see his professor again, even if only in a memory.]

[ That smile tells him more than enough. So prim, so reserved, Dimitri might as well be lying -- and he's definitely humoring him. That amuses Claude enough to let it be. Not that he had much intention of pushing farther. What becomes of his dream in that world, is the concern of that Claude. Not his.

Outside of the mystery of this inexplicable prison, unless resolving it grants a miracle, there isn't much left to concern him.

That, the unsentimental reality of it. Something muddied, the more he speaks to Hilda, to Lorenz, to Marianne, and yes, even to Dimitri. So much so that it's a relief when Dimitri turns. Claude lifts his hand, mouth opening on a farewell quip, when the memory begins.

True enough, Claude has always had a penchant for sticking his nose where most might not think it belongs. But he has respect enough to at least intend not to pursue or pay attention to memories dredged up by this new infestation, the inherent and forced violation of it.

But what's he to do, when Claude himself (not-himself) materializes? Of course he watches.

And Dimitri doesn't seem to mind. ]

I'd been wondering...

[ A distracted admission. He'd thought to experiment with it in private, with holdig a memory, focusing, and initiating contact.

But. From the looks of it, that Claude had appealed to the Kingdom for help. Against the Empire, surely. Confident in the kindness of Dimitri's heart, and right to be so, for Dimitri had come.

The memory continues, Claude's attention dividing between it and the useless what-ifs compounding in his head. He'd been unprepared, even with the Almyran forces. But if he'd called Dimitri, would he have come? These last years, what had he...

You cross too many dangerous bridges for my liking.

I know, I know. But... that ends today.

What do you mean?

Here, take this. Use it however you see fit.

Hold, Claude. this must be one of your jokes. You cannot truly intend to part with this...

It's not a joke. As of today, the Leicester Alliance is no more.

Failnaught, that ghastly and incredible bow, passing hands. The Alliance joining the Kingdom once more. Claude, shucking the title of Duke Riegan once more, and this Claude understands he won't have an easy time of it in Almyra. Returning empty-handed, evidence of Fodlan cowardice. But, alive. With time yet to struggle.

With an ally in the king, who raced to save him.

Something brittle in his smile. He only notices when he feels the first fracture, raising a hand to brush at his hair and mask the moment of smoothing it out, of composure. ]

My hero, huh? Hey, I was right the first time.

[ If the Alliance is no more, then as far as Dimitri knows, even in another land Claude would be one of his subjects. ]

After all, you're his king.

[ With a wink. ]

[Ah, how embarrassing...! The way Claude says it makes it sound like Dimitri just charged in gung-ho on a white horse. He huffs, glancing away for a moment, only catching the tail end of that strange, fragile smile.

How peculiar.]

Am I? I would think the ruler of wherever he went would be his king. He said that he had a dream to pursue elsewhere, that being the leader of the Alliance left him with no time for it... but he did not tell me anything more. I wish that he did, though. I want to honor that dream. After all, he has essentially entrusted the Alliance to me. Together with the Alliance, we will have the numbers to take on the Empire directly. It is only right to do what I can in return for that.

[Dimitri smiles again, but this time there's a pained edge to it despite its sincerity.]

I would like to honor Edelgard's dream as well, if I can. A world where people do not have to suffer for their crests or lack thereof... it is a worthy endeavor, and I will not shun it simply because of the one it came from.

[ Fair enough. Clear enough from that departure that Claude, who'd just about materialized out of the air itself and who had never quite belonged to or in Fodlan, by abandoning both position and the Hero's Relic of his borrowed name, should he ever return to Fodlan, would not do so to kneel before the king.

Even a king such as this. One to whom he owed a debt, one who speaks now of dreams. Of honoring even Edelgard's dream.

Dimitri really is a sucker. As to why that gets his smile tangled up in his eyes, even he couldn't say.

Claude laughs and it sounds normal enough. ]

Don't get ahead of yourself, your Kingliness. He's still alive, isn't he?

[ That is, he'll see to his own dream. Claude raises his eyebrows, shifting the focus from himself-not-himself. ]

Besides, you'll be needing time for your own dream. You shouldn't forget to live for yourself, as well as your people. What is it, come to that? Your dream.

[ Never mind that he's asking (and assuming) without providing so much as a clue to his own. It's hardly the first time. ]

["He's still alive". Phrasing that wouldn't have him bat a lash back home, but here in this place where ghosts can walk, gives him pause. Something shifts behind his eye, an inkling of what sort of world this Claude may have come from —

But then Claude thoroughly throws him off by asking that question, leaving him looking a little flustered.]

...it's unrealistic.

[Even an idealist like Dimitri knows that the dream his heart has latched onto here is an impossibility.]

[ Danger averted. There's that, at least. Dimitri's pretty easy to handle; his confidence in that helps him to better settle, to manufacture the appearance of comfort with less effort.

And his interest is truly piqued. For Dimitri to be embarrassed, to dismiss it as unrealistic, it must be some dream. ]

My favorite kind.

[ Shrugging with broad arms, his smile now encouraging, patient. ]

I... hope that all of us being here in this world amounts to something. That this is, perhaps, the goddess trying to make things right. Though she seems as lost as the rest of us, truth be told.

[It's unlikely, he knows. Dimitri closes his eye.]

Even if it is not my world, knowing that somewhere, somehow, things turned out differently would be a comfort. Knowing that the injustice of it has been acknowledged by the goddess would be a comfort, as well.

[Which is essentially saying he wants mommy to say "it was unfair and I'm sorry", and that's exactly why it's embarrassing. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he peeks at Claude again.]

There will not really be time for dreams back home, I fear. I will have my hands full just trying to get everyone to stop fighting. But if I can continue my father's work, if people could see that life without crests isn't something to be frightened of, I hope I can put some ghosts to rest. Asking for more would be greedy.

[ There had been something affirming in finding the goddess as hapless and confused, trapped like any mortal. Only, if the goddess of Fodlan, whatever her actual role in the fertility of the land and the success of its people, was at much at this place's mercy, than who or what had caused it? What was the purpose, to what end? The overarching question, that which occupies most of his thoughts, ever bogged, ever spinning out.

His mind might be formidable and his imagination more than capable, but with each day, the likelihood that this ordeal is merely the product of his last breaths, hallucinations of his dying mind, overactive to the last, reduces. He still doubts even he could come up with this. However tantalizing the confirmation of Teach's importance, of how time might have divided, of his dreams realized in another world where Hilda lives.

While Claude has little faith to speak of, while if he would believe he would choose gods that were indifferent to borders and didn't meddle in human affairs, what else could have the power to trap a goddess, if not another god?

The miracle of this place -- his mind keeps at it while Dimitri speaks.

Justice and comfort, an ideal future where they laid their dreams out side by side and understood their commonality. They've yet to encounter anyone from such a world. Claude hasn't much hope, really, but with the rest so improbable, he has wondered whether anything could change, might change, through their actions here, and acted accordingly. So he speaks not of his death, but Edelgard's mercy, to plant the suggestion should she have been otherwise inclined.

So he allows the slim possibility that this half-life of his here might become a second life, a second chance, upon escape, and looks for opportunity.

So when Dimitri speaks of making meaning, it doesn't go far enough for Claude's own idealistic notions, but it resonates. ]

I think you misjudge the value of greed and reduce yourself too much, Dimitri. But if you are only able to dream here, then so be it. I'll help you with your unrealistic dream.

[ Not a bit abashed. ]

In all honesty, my own isn't so different. Though you won't be surprised to hear mine's a little more ambitious.

[ His own here, anyway.

Funny, that he'd come to Garreg Mach in large part to find someone, or someones, who might be useful. Someone to help him reach his dreams. He'd failed, even lost, all but Hilda inevitably drawn to Teach. (And Hilda...)

Now, he offers to help Dimitri with his dream. It's self-serving and it isn't: he wants to believe in the impossible, because this place is impossible. Wants to believe it a real option: resurrection, or at the very least, change.

He wants to, but doesn't. But there's nothing else.

Funny. ]

[Though he's clearly taken aback by the offer to help, Claude saying his dream is more ambitious is the real surprise. There's only one step up from more ambitious in this regard, isn't there? To not only create a reality where they didn't have to kill each other, but to be able to change things in their own timelines, too.

All things considered, he doesn't know Claude that well. Save for Dimitri's embarrassing rampage across Gronder Field, they've never had a reason to quarrel, but neither were they close friends. It's something he considered during that year at the Academy. Unfortunately, his preoccupation with the dead kept him from truly connecting to most people, and nothing ever came of it. Even so, he knows him well enough to know that Claude doesn't go all in on a crazy scheme like this unless he has reason to truly believe it will work or his options are limited — hell, they just watched the memory of exactly that.

He's still alive. There was meaning to that, wasn't there? Even if it was unintentional...

Dimitri isn't the sort to pry, not about such a sensitive topic. Though there's a clear flicker of understanding, he doesn't say anything about it.]

Then perhaps we have a chance after all. You, me, Edelgard, and the professor and Sothis — if we all join hands, we may yet see a better end to this war.

[ There are certain things that even Claude overlooks. They are not external.

See, Fodlan: At the Academy, he had used the ingrained obstinacy, even complacency, of the people of Fodlan. Used their ignorance, a blindness that sometimes seemed as much willful as it was willed by the Church. Yet, he had not depended on it, had not let down his walls and flaunted his otherness, at least not intentionally. Not intentionally to the extent that what made him unique might also give him entirely away.

After all, someone like Lorenz had been watching even after he'd changed houses. Claude couldn't be naive enough to dismiss the possibility that there were others.

What he'd overlooked, however, he continues to overlook. A lifelong blindspot, and the most dangerous kind: his own tells. The unintentional. The dozens of small ways in which he'd given himself away, in which he gives himself away, against his best judgment and every conscious impulse.

Dimitri is transparent. He wears his emotions as naturally as the crown he'd been born to, in a land that believed nobility a birthright. Claude recognizes his surprise and expects it, though he'd misjudged which of his words would startle.

And he recognizes his comprehension, however fleeting the evidence.

He doesn't like it.

Plain at that, and plain as this, it's like a nettle. Sticking, one he'll need to work to pick loose and put away. What's strange, even unsettling, though he's disinclined to be unsettled: it isn't the only spur. But why a memory as simple as Dimitri's, as superficially pleasant, should stick...

Later.

For the moment, for now, his smile keeps easy, and his eyes hadn't been clear to begin with. Even manages a glint of mischief, cut through his laugh. ]

Why not? Considering all the damage we've managed to do apart, if we four giants of men and the goddess herself reach out our hands in friendship —

[ A moment's interruption as he jerks left, out of the looping trajectory of a firefly. ]

— we might just win. Though I vote we start holding hands on a less buggy day.

[Dimitri definitely is terrible at hiding his emotions. There was, of course, that period of time after Duscur when he became quite good at hiding his fury and his pain, but doing so seemed to dull all his other feelings, too, making the world just a little grayer than it used to be. But it all exploded in his face spectacularly, and he's done with trying to sweep any unpleasant emotions under a rug. That's not really living, and no matter how much misplaced guilt he feels for being the one to survive, Dimitri is still alive.

So he chooses to be more honest with himself now, as unsightly as that may sometimes be. It makes it pathetically easy for a man like Claude to read him, inconvenient when he'd rather hide this particular revelation. At least Claude is a good enough actor for Dimitri to not realize his thoughts have been found out. Claude doesn't seem entirely comfortable, but who could be when they're at risk of having their memories put on display for all to see?

Dimitri lets out a small chuckle in response to Claude's dramatics (and his dodging of that firefly, truth be told). With a nod, he takes a step back.]

I think that would be wise. Good day, Claude. And... thank you.

[ Whatever Dimitri understood, or believed he understood, does gnaw at Claude's attention. That prickling curiosity, born both of his general inclination to know as much as he can about as much as there is, and of his wariness, his disinclination to ever be caught by surprise or unawares.

A small, childish part of him — a part he could scarcely believe had survived childhood never mind all that followed it, a part he could not and would not recognize — doesn't want to know.

But ignorance had never proved a protective balm — he will dissect this conversation later, able to pick through his words if not his own countenance.

For now, he takes a mirroring step, having never intended to dawdle here. He has enough curiosity about as much as there is, and particularly now, these fireflies, to occupy himself. Still meaning to experiment, though he would do so in private. ]

Hey, that's my line, or it might be we're even. You'll be helping with my dream, too.

[ So make it even — because he has no intention of taking on the debts of the Claude that lived with Dimitri's help. Even if Dimitri isn't the sort to ever call them. ]

Later, Dimitri.

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