"Gaius." His father's name was said in a tight tone, one that was heavy with exasperation. Such behavior coming from a Legatus (ex Legatus) felt unthinkable to imagine and yet here he was, forced to watch as the man he had called 'father' dance (poorly) with a woman who had to be half his age and size. The cause of the odd behavior could have been traced back to the several empty flagons of ale that Gaius had imbibed, but that knowledge provided lukewarm comfort. After all, alcohol didn't make a person do something they didn't want to do.
The overly affection behavior toward Alta was one thing, but the sight of his father offering him a wink and what could only be described as a gesture of touching his lips to the tips of his fingers before gesturing toward Rex was the breaking point for him. The aura rolled his eyes before turning to walk out of the crowded room; this celebration could finish without him.
... did everyone feel their parents were this embarrassing, or was that just him?
solus watches his blood flee the room at gaius' behest, expression sour. how very noble is the dog that growls to protect its' master. solus can appreciate that instinct, imbecilic as it is.
"brave, are we?" solus tilts his head, eyes still on the closed door as if watching varis walk down the long hallway, able to see straight through the metal. his grandson's soul is not nearly as radiant as his grandmother's had been, but it shines brighter than those around him, all those poor wretches with no ancient blood to speak of in their veins. solus watches the hue fade as varis leaves and thinks, what a waste. but what else could be expected from such a perverse union between a man and an insect?
solus suddenly turns his face towards gaius, expression inscrutable. "do you think he might do the same for you, were your positions reversed? you may be dismayed to know the answer." he's genuinely curious, even though he knows the truth himself. the young wolf can be rather intriguing like that: naive and noble to a fault, yet still willing to do what must be done, bloody blade and all.
solus reaches out abruptly, but not to slap. instead, the emperor grips at gaius' face in a facsimile of affection, ungloved fingers holding his shaven face roughly. he tilts that face as if examining, as if seeing something there that wasn't present before. yellow eyes burn into gaius', as if looking past him into his soul. "are you frightened of me now, my little pup? i, who brought you in from the cold?"
"There is no redemption. Can't you see? It's too late." 🥴
BG3 starters // @heirbane
It feels strange, seeing a man like Gaius in despair. Even now, with his former "shepherd to the weak" mindset forsaken, he remained inscrutable even without the armored helm to conceal his expressions. A changed man now, aye, but a stoic man all the same, whose moments of vulnerability were few and far in between.
Yet every man has their shadows, their moonless nights. This, Meteor knows better than most, and when he quietly enters Gaius' room with a tray of stew balanced on his hand, the sight of empty bottles crowding the table reminds him of his own past demons. Of the twenty something bottles that littered the tables and floor of his inn room at Cloud Nine, as much alcohol it took to drown out his sorrow over Haurchefant, until not even his supernatural constitution could keep up any longer.
He had been alone then, unable to show weakness anywhere and thus forced to deal with his pain by himself. He wouldn't let Gaius be the same way, former enemy or no. The tray is set on an empty space on the table that isn't taken up by cups or bottles, and then Meteor takes a seat next to where Gaius slumps. If the man wants him gone, he speaks nothing of it. Instead, he spills his regrets to Meteor, as alcohol is wont to make a man do.
"There is no redemption. Can't you see? It's too late."
Perhaps if these words had been spoken to him back then, he would have no good answer for them, but he has already learned about dealing with guilt through his reconciliation with Fray and Myste, and so he has an answer now.
That answer, however, does not offer any comfort. He cannot offer any; it is not his place to. Instead, he says, "It weighs as it should." You have sinned greatly, and you must live with that fact. "Maybe there will be no forgiveness, but can you afford to stop moving forward now? Is your burden really that light?"
His hand comes to rest on Gaius' shoulder. "Regardless, the fact remains that you want to change for the better... and so long as that remains true, you can consider me your ally. One who thinks you ought to stop chugging this swill and get some rest."
Eventually, he hauls Gaius to bed, dumping him on the mattress without much effort and pulling the thin worn blanket over his body. The stew he left on the table is brought to the nightstand, a hot tincture placed on top of the lid to keep it warm when the man eventually awakens with a monstrous hangover. When they next meet again, Gaius looks weary and disheveled, but the stoic mask is back, his expression betraying none of crushing guilt he had displayed the night before.
And if he remembered anything, neither of them spoke anything of it.
He had not said his words in the hopes of getting any form of apology from his father. Rex had known better than to even hope to get a true acknowledgement of his failures. Certainly the man could say, could claim, that he had tried - and that would be the truth. He had.
But his efforts hadn't raised children. He had raised soldiers, and they had been left at the mercy of the Garlean Empire with Gaius' presumed death. Of course his father could not have predicted what happened - or so Rex might have thought.
But he knew better. He knew his father better than any of his siblings ever could have. Perhaps he knew Gaius better than Gaius knew himself.
"I would not have expected to hear such pathetic whimpering from the Black Wolf himself." And Gaius' broken stare was met with a flat, unblinking glare from vivid orange eyes. "You've gotten soft in your old age. I almost believe that you think you took us in with such an altruistic goal."
The Black Wolf would have only cared about doing all he could for the glory of Garlemald.
-- it was dangerous for him to dwell on these thoughts, though. They brought with them a surge of anger that threatened to awake the voice in the back of his mind that craved for him to give into his baser impulses. It had taken him months to learn to curb the impulse to attack anyone on sight, the warrior of light his most notable target. The overwhelming and stomach-curling surges of aether that came with it, and the sickly sensation of someone else in his mind always followed.
It was because of that the auri let out a low tch noise, pushing him up from sitting on the thin infirmary mattress that had served as his bed for the past several months. "If you came here to try to ease your own conscious, you're wasting your breath. Maybe you should should seek your forgiveness from Ricon and Milisandia first."
@heirbane : “control yourself.” / hhh... dealer's choice?? :>
prompt : too lazy to go find it lol.
yotsuyu plays at impassivity, but inside, the rage burns like a cold fire. another man who scolds her like a dog is certainly nothing novel, but something in his voice echoes sashihai.
(she burns dinner, because she doesn't know how to use the stove; he makes her eat it off the floor like a dog, then takes her by the hair and-)
she's only returned to the past for a moment, but it's too late: regrettably, uncontrollably, yotsuyu flinches. foolish--the viceroy's hand reaches for his teacup, not to grab at her. but she refuses to throw out the entire gambit. her expression smooths out again, as if nothing has happened, and her timid expression returns. no, she can use this. she can pretend to be a simpering sheep, overwhelmed by the presence of a general. is that not what garlean men think doman women are? meek and stupid lambs, for breeding and for pleasure at best? the doman resistance wants information from the legatus while he is on doma, and yotsuyu wants to see if there are any cracks in the armor she can slip her roots into. what good is a flower that floats away when the flood comes? better to plant roots now, to secure herself something greater. the resistance will never succeed, even she can see that. it will not tread water, and she refuses to be dragged underneath the tide alongside it.
"forgive me, my lord," she says, faux-innocent, pulling her hand back from where it nearly touches his armor. playing at the shy young maid she has been instructed to be, she adjusts the tea tray she has brought instead, shuffling her foot.
"i have never seen such armor in person. i forgot myself. i-" yotsuyu pretends to cut herself off, pretends to chastise herself, to cringe at the sound of her own voice. it is a good performance, she thinks, the only give away that not all is what it seems the sharp intelligence in her eyes. perhaps her makeup is too fine for a maid, but her costume, otherwise, is excellent; hair pulled back loosely to frame her face, robe modest but tight against her skin. she is an actor, and this is a stage she could walk blindfolded.
"no, never mind it. i should not ask such questions." an unspoken invitation that yotsuyu has learned tempts most men: the opportunity to talk about themselves. "how is your excellency's tea?"
@heirbane : ‘you answer a different question than the one I asked.’
garlemald is harsher than doma, by far. and not just in climate. no one wants chiyo to succeed here, to claw citizenship within her tight grasp. domans are mocked relentlessly in this side of the world, the subject of baseless propaganda at worst and offensive pornography at best; the idea that one could stand beside them as an ally (worse, as an equal) disconcerts most garleans. gaius is more generous than most.
chiyo doesn't meet her superior's eye, instead studies a growing crack in the floor, hands clasped behind her back at attention. helmet removed, the au'ra sports a fist-shaped bruise down the side of her face, but she pays it no heed--the one who'd struck her is in far worse shape. livia's armor will need weeks to be properly repaired.
scrapping is beneath her. beneath them both. but livia had started it, and chiyo certainly wasn't opposed to denying the little mongrel's request. still, she has some measure of shame about their scrap, otherwise she'd answer gaius outright. she attacked me first is borderline juvenile, something chiyo is determined not to be. but without saying that, she doesn't know how to explain--though given livia's track record, chiyo thinks it should be rather obvious.
"i can't speculate on the praefectus' reasons." the unspoken truth, that livia's reasons for anything are unknowable and mysterious to most. chiyo's jaw creaks with the effort of holding her dignity in check. she's unable to read him, which makes it more disconcerting; gaius is the master of impassivity. chiyo decides to take the safer route. "...it won't happen again. i'll take the cost of her armor out of my stipend."
🌟 What’s something small they did as a child that hinted at who they’d become?
SOLO / PROVE
( Takes place 6 years before ARR, or 1 year before Tsukuyomi's second eye disappears from the night sky. )
Sixteen springs, soon to be seventeen. With the cherry and plum blossoms falling down from the forested mountains above cascading Namai in spring pink and white, Hikari had found herself watching over Isse and Azami while their parents were away at their behest. The closest in the village to them in age, though by a vast margin, as neither wished to trouble the busy adults with childrearing.
Of course, she couldn't say no. She didn't want to say no. Amidst her ponderings, all she truly did while she minded them while they played was grind dried herbs in the mortar and press some of the gathered sakura petals to extract their... extract. Something about an anti-inflammatory salve. Some of the elders would appreciate it for their arthritic joints.
"Hikari?" The grinding of her pestle slowed to a crawl as she turned her head. Isse fidgeted in place, holding up a sakura branch. "Do you know why these smell sweet if we can't eat them?"
Oh. Hikari set aside her task and thought for a moment. "It has a chemical in it that makes it smell good. The same compound makes it toxic fer yer liver unless its pickled an' processed."
Isse nodded, and turned his head back. Snorting, Hikari asked, "Are y'askin' fer you, or are y'askin' fer yer sister?" When he shuffled a bit in place, clearly betraying his intentions, she only shook her head with a smile. "She won't know what a liver is, she's four. Tell her it'll make her tummy sick an' she'll understand. If she asks why, y'can bring her here an' I'll tell her for you, alright?"
"Yes ma'am!" And thus he trotted off with the branch in hand, carrying it like a wand. Chuckling to herself, Hikari began to pour out the pulverized powder onto a small square of paper to press. She began to fold in the corners, only stopping when she heard a shout from behind the house.
She jolted in her seat and began to stand, Isse running to her with a panicked expression she'd never seen before. "Azami's gone!"
Her heart dropped. Gone? Hikari stood up fully, "Okay, okay, what d'you mean by gone? Missin'?"
Isse was crying now, tears streaming down his face as he sputtered out his words in a deluge. "Gone! She's gone and I can't find her and I was only gone for a few seconds and it's all my fault--"
Putting her hands on his shoulders, she gently shook him to snap him out of the frenzy. Thinking quick, she set him aside while she traced the edge of her home and grabbed the woodcutting hatchet from the woodpile for a little extra protection. She doubted she'd needed it, as a four year old couldn't have run far. "You stay with me," she said, voice grave, "an' you don't wander off. Does she have any places that she likes t'go to? Did she say anythin' before you left t'ask me about the blossoms?"
"Uh, she only really said that they were pretty and smelled good. That she wanted to see them on the water." When he spoke, his eyes dawned in horror. "Did she go to the river?!"
"No, no, she wouldn't've made it that far." Not on her little legs, nor with the soldiers patrolling. She did have an idea, though. With a hatchet in her left and Isse's hand taken in her right, Hikari went down the rocky slopes that lined Namai's paddies and cliffside homes as she had many, many times before. "I have an idea, but we gotta go quick so she doesn't get caught."
"Will they get mad at her?"
"Yer parents? They'd probably be worried, but--"
"No, not them!" Isse shook his head. "The--the Imperial soldiers. Will they get mad?"
It struck Hikari then that she didn't actually know. She spoke slowly, "If we get caught, we tell them the truth. That Azami wandered off an' we went t'go get her." No point in lyin' when it'll only get us int' trouble. "It's jus' where we're goin' that I'm worried they'll get mad about. Jus' keep yer voice even an' don't cause a scene. Can y'be calm fer me, Isse?"
Wiping off another glob of tears, Isse nodded at her. Sympathetically, Hikari nodded back and continued on through the valley's winding paths until she heard water running.
Heron's Flight was a tender and cultivated water source, and occasionally a source of meat if herons were abundant a particular year. It was the area around Heron's Flight that troubled her, because the shattered shrine of their auspice protector was laid to rest here. It was common knowledge that the worship of their kami was persecuted harshly, but Tamamo Gozen was even more despised due to her aid in the fight against the invading Imperials... or so they say. Not even an auspice of legend was enough to protect their nation, and so her destroyed shrine sat unmaintained and rotting.
She always felt bad that she couldn't do anything about it. Her mother had taught her of the legend of this place, and why the kitsune was once so revered, and also why no one could come here anymore.
A scream cut the air, shrill and sharp, followed by the clattering of elytra against a carapace. "Stay right here," Hikari commanded, rushing away from Isse as fast as her lean legs could carry her. Brisk as the fox that once called this place home, Hikari skidded past the petal-laden pond and watched in terror as Azami was being backed towards the shrine by a massive rhino beetle. It clicked its mandibles at her, raising its wings in a threat display.
It's wandered far from where it's supposed to be. Hikari didn't waste time in skirting the pond while gripping her hatchet all the while, jumping off the rock and landing squarely on the bug's back. Like killing a lobster, she brought her weapon down on the segmentation between head and thorax, sending it buckling to the ground dead. The sudden death with her strike sent Hikari tumbling to the ground dazed, weapon's edged covered in opaque hemolymph. Azami was curled up into a small ball, wailing, and was only starting to quiet down when Isse herded her into a hug.
"I told you t'stay put," Hikari groaned from her prone position in the grass. She props herself up on her elbows and lowly starts to bring herself to her knees.
"I got worried when I saw you jump on it." He admitted without apology, brows furrowed as he tried to console Azami. "I heard her crying and you got really quiet, so I..."
Swallowing, Hikari went to them both with a shaky breath. "Look, we'll jus' go home. I'm gonna hafta tell our parents what happened, but no one was hurt, so in the end it's okay as long as neither've you pull somethin' like this again, okay?"
Azami sniffled and shook her head up and down in quick succession, and Isse opened his mouth to speak before a voice, deep and authoritative, cut him off in a way that sent Hikari's heart hurtling into her throat.
"Halt, the three of you!"
Of course. No good deed goes unpunished. On instinct, Hikari dropped her hatchet to disarm herself. Do not speak unless spoken to, tell the entire truth, don't fight back, you know it's unfair, safety for yourself and others comes first.
"This area is strictly forbidden unless allowed by Imperial escort." He was a Centurion judging by the cermet armor, and by the tone in his voice he did not sound pleased. "State your business here. Promptly."
Isse spoke first. "We--"
Hikari cut him off with her own words. She didn't trust those of a child to be good enough in this scenario, and she couldn't hear or feel much beyond the rhythmic pounding of her heart in her chest and the coiling chill of fear in her stomach. "I was watchin' these two play, an' Azami wandered off 'cause she wanted t'see the petals on the water. I was t'take her home immediately but she was beset upon by a rhino beetle so I took action. We were jus' leavin', an' we will not be returnin'." Hikari bowed by bending the upper half of her body in apology, her nails subconciously gripping her clothing. "You have m'deepest apologies fer m'lapse in attention in allowin' her t'wander. It will not happen again."
The Centurion regards the two siblings next to her. "Is what she claims the truth?"
"Yes sir," said Isse, with Azami rubbing her puffy eyes still stained with tears, giving a frail nod.
The moments the soldier takes to assess are agonizingly slow. Though his armored fingers drum on his weapon for a brief moment, he eventually drops his hand to his side. "See to it that this doesn't reoccur. This is the first offence I have seen, so I will look past it this once."
The weight was relieved from Hikari's shoulders, and she felt she could breathe again. She looks down at her charges. "Let's be off an' get y'all home, okay?"
As she scooted them along down the slope, the Centurion actually stepped forward to examine the beetle. "You said you felled this beast on your own?"
Hikari did not look back just yet, only straight ahead with an expression as even as she could force. "Yes sir. In one blow."
"Impressive." The way it was said made Hikari's veins freeze for reasons she did not yet know. She turned back, only to see him approaching with the hatchet in hand. He held it out by the handle. "You must have quite the arm. Your weapon."
She didn't voice her thoughts, merely smiling and nodding, taking it by the blunt edge of the blade and hanging it off the holder to her side. "Thank you, sir. I hope you have a good afternoon."
She quickly walked the two children back to the village, and when they finally arrived ( and Azami having calmed down enough from ordeal to at least look well ), Hikari nearly collapsed with several panicked gasps being the only way to intake air. Her heart thudded against her ribcage, punching the walls of her chest, knocking the air she desperately needed from her. She felt like screaming. Isse tried to support her, but she brushed him off, letting herself calm down before standing upright.
"I'm fine, I'm okay," she reassured through a thin veneer of control. "Azami, please never run off like that again. Y'could have gotten seriously hurt," or killed, "do y'understand me?"
"I just wanted to see the flowers..." The girl frowned defensively. "I keep seeing them cover the pond from all the way over here. I just wanted to look!"
"There's a reason we don't go over there, it isn't safe." Hikari didn't snap, but her tone was strained. "It was my fault, I should have been watchin' you more closely. Next time y'wanna see the flowers on the water, I'll grab an adult an' we can take a little walk t'the riverbank, okay?"
"Okay!" And just like that, all was forgotten and forgiven. Isse gave Hikari a sheepish and apologetic look, handing Azami the branch from earlier that she took with glee and began to wave around. Hikari sighed in relief before she felt something rest a hand on her shoulder.
"Somethin' happen?" Masaru asked, looking between Hikari and her two charges. His eyes were trained on her expression with calculated worry.
Dad. Hikari breathed in raggedly, "Y'don't know the half've it."
"Tell me in the house." He whispered before calling to Azami and Isse. "You two! Your parents are back home, they wanted me to call you to dinner!"
"Thank you, Nakama-san! We'll start heading home!" Isse tugged his sister's sleeve, who followed after him still waving around that little stick. Hikari watched with relief as they went back to their house, nearly collapsing into a seated position on the ground.
Masaru supported her, though, hooking one arm under hers. His violet eyes, a couple shades lighter than her own, complimented his sun-kissed skin. If not for that tan and his considerably shorter hair, his daughter would have been his spitting image. With a furrowed brow, he looked at her, eyes dark with worry. "I overheard a little, not everythin', of course. Where did Azami wander to?"
"The shrine," Hikari croaked.
The worry became grave. "And you were caught, I take it?"
Hikari nodded agonizingly slow. Masaru sighed and dragged a hand down his face, chewing the inside of his cheek. "But they didn't hurt you?"
"No. I killed a bug shortly before the soldier arrived. Can't exactly fake a corpse." She said numbly. "I think havin' evidence gave him enough t'let us off with a warnin'. I did all y'taught me."
"Good kid." He placed a hand on her head and ruffled her curls. "It's unfair, but it kept you three safe, and that's what matters. I'll talk to their parents about what happened. You know kids like to hide things when they're afraid to get in trouble." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Kami know that you did the same thing as a wee one."
Hikari crumpled under the gesture like wet paper. "There's somethin' else that bugged me."
Her father dipped his head, as if asking her to continue.
"When he saw the beetle corpse, he said it was impressive an' that I had a good arm." She swallowed. "I didn't like the way it made me feel."
Masaru's eyes darkened at that. "And you're certain that's what he said?"
After she nodded affirmingly, she could swear she saw the tiniest hint of terror in her father's eyes before he cleared his throat. "I'll talk with your mother. All I ask is that you keep your head down, alright?"
"I... plan on it. I plan on stayin' in the village, too, unless mother wants me t'go gather herbs with her again." She explained, rubbing her wrist.
Masaru seemed placated by this, but his gaze was distant. Patting her on the shoulder reassuringly, he left her to her work to go inside, leaving Hikari staring down at the powdered medicine, half folded into its paper. All she can do is put her head in her hands and sit.
