#lionscion

[youthfulthief]

Under Patty's door, a bare note would be waiting for her. The handwriting would be familiar to her, enough to instantly announce the sender, although the already rough handwriting looks even moreso because of the urgent haste it was written with. Had there been so little time left, this would have probably been a conversation.

"Blank Ma--"

The first half-finished line was scratched out with bold strokes, and written beneath it was the start of the real message, with a real name to address:

"Patty-

You need to know that I am not the same Ares you entered this place with. I am but his shade, one of many produced by this place's magic after the real one's death. But I have no intention of taking the original's place.

From the life I wrongfully inherited from him, I have done little besides ruin what he had built, including whatever relationship you two had. The least I can do now is fight to give back what is rightfully his, which means I must die. Every shade must die."

The last sentence had extra weight put into the ink, practically carved into the page.

"This is my goodbye to you, and an apology for treating you as the same scourge from the world of my flawed memories. Forgive me, if for nobody else's sake than his."

There was no name at the end. There didn't need to be, and he no longer had one of his own to give.

He never did.

Patty had felt her apartment call to her, somehow. There was another meeting soon, a meeting that would dictate their next actions, and hopefully, a way out of this place. She knew she had little leisure time to spare, both between work and supervision, but nothing stood out to her. Other than the desperate urge to visit her apartment for what could be the final time.

She was glad she did. A note awaited her, the handwriting familiar. Ares.

Her mask scratched out, replaced with her name. As much as he forgot, from the Liberation Army to his own family, it was nice to see him remember fragments and pieces. It was a slow process, sure, but it would be worth it in the end. One day, he would remember everything, and everything would be closer to normal.

Then, she read on.

Ares never did remember her name.

Because Ares was indeed gone. He died on the first week, stabbed by the black-cloaked figure. And he never came back.

He was never Ares.

A shadow took his place, took the place of her friend. She had heard of these shadows around, body doubles of the various people trapped here, but they could take a place of someone? To such an extent where someone could confuse them for the real thing? She had noticed the loose thread, but everyone around her, could she truly trust them?

Yes. She could. Even if the Ares here wasn't the Black Knight she had once fought alongside, she could trust him. If the Liberation Army taught her anything, it was that there was always good people hiding in the worst places. People who were genuine, who can change for the better, and people that want to help. It's that trust that binds people together, not fear or anger.

The doppelganger had proved it. Where once her anger and confusion lashed out, it had dissipated into a genuine connection on her end. Where once the heat of the moment burnt her, she felt warmed just talking to the shadow. Yet the sorrow still remained.

For when the time comes, she must point her sword at someone who, doppelganger or not, she called a friend.

Still, for his sake, she would do it.

"I forgive you."

[hosannan]

It was strange, but that was all Ares had thought of Leif's no-show.

Not suspicious.

Not worrisome.

Not even an omen of something hanging in the air.

Even as walked right through that increasingly heavy atmosphere to find Nanna once again, alone amongst the slowly thinning crowds, he hadn't thought about it any deeper than that --

"Nanna, have you seen Leif? We have yet to compare our…?"

-- not until he was knocked dumb by her expression, just disturbed enough from her usual serenity that it could register as a flag.

"…Nanna?"

Suddenly, the words to form a better question were hard to find, and what ones he did find were quiet. So instead he made up for it with distance, and the careful steps he took to close it.

"Are you alright?"

"Oh dear..." Nanna glanced at him, glassy eyed, though her insufferable heartache failed to destroy her public presentation. She looked as snow would look, quiet and still, though her hands were still clutched a little too tightly to know peace. "You must be looking for him. I do apologize, Ares. He needed to take his leave early tonight." It was still her duty to save face for her lord, despite acting against him earlier. She would not turn her tongue to speak badly of him, and croaked out a wilting apology. Her chest visibly seized, before she shook it off and held her head tall.

Her cousin... There was fairly little she could do to hide the situation from him, but she found the entire thing too damning to shroud behind weak words. Steadily, she observed his state of dress and the nature of his still eyes. Ares was an unbreakable reminder that they both still had people who cared about them, even if they could not meet each other's expectations. She could only be sorry that he was trapped in the cross-fire, even if he could only feel faint ripples of it from his own pond.

"No, I'm not. In time, perhaps, I will be, but I suspect I need a little time." She wore a faint smile, looking for the nearest exit before picking up her skirts and beginning to take her exit. "Forgive me... I should really clear for the night. And I ask that you forgive Lord Leif, too. We have a lot to think about..."

"I shall not speak for him, but I know he must have been looking forward to..." She weakly ribbed him, knowing how wrong it would sound. But it would be worse if she didn't say anything at all. "Showcasing just how many pins he had fixed to his brooch tonight. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he had you beat." Grinning in Leif's place, she pat Ares shoulder like a good sport, and tilted her head forward to silently observe him. Tonight was a night for any other person. She wanted to remember Ares as he was, instead of drowning him in their pre-marital dissonance. Ares had his own life to attend to, and his own thoughts to wrangle. That her cousin managed to collect that many pins for his brooch was a testament to his ability, and his widening world.

Bringing her own brooch up to eye-level, she gave a curt little laugh. If she could not go back to normal, she would have to set a new normal to go back to. "See? You even beat me! You are a winner in my books."

"You put up more than a good fight. I'm proud of you, Ares."

[luxaltare]

On days when their schedules were kind enough to complement each other, Ares liked to make the walk to the classrooms with Lene. They would meet around the pair of stairs bridging the two halves of the dorms, just as the morning sun was beginning to spill over the sides of buildings, and bask in the warmth of each other's presence every step of the way.

Typically, today would not be one of those days, but Ares' tall and dark figure was unmistakable. Emerging from beneath the shadows of the dorm buildings, a handful of brisk strides was all it took to bring his hands to Lene's face.

"Happy birthday, my dearest."

Gentle fingers caressed her cheek as he breathed the words softly into her ear, curling and then coming back around to trace her jaw with his knuckle. Its riding to the tip of her chin was his small invitation for her to follow upwards, and the other hand slipped around her hip was to keep her steady while he bent low to meet her at the lips.

While nothing longer than a small peck, the extra pause he took before pulling away represented the promise of a much more intimate kind to come later, if she wanted it. For now, he still had other gifts to present.

"I've thought much about your account of our time apart." Or more specifically, how it made her feel. How his letters he'd prepared to assuage the loneliness he knew her to be so prone to proved to be a poor substitute. How they were then further marred by unforeseen meddling, and then left her with nothing but empty halls. The half-distant haze that briefly clouded his eyes suggested he was thinking of these even now, as he reached back around to grab at something on his belt while adding, "And it led me to this--"

From behind his hip came a simple cloth sack which, when placed into Lene's hand, would reveal a surprising bit more heft to it than one would expect. It was akin to a heavy coinpurse, and whenever Lene decided to open it, she would quickly discover why.

Armor, even small enough to fit a stuffed animal like this, was something that would add some weight to anything, and this bear had a fair amount on its little body. It was still nothing comparable to a real, human set though -- simply enough to add some pleasant pressure to the hugs its adorable plush face would surely tempt many to give. Stuck between its stubby paws was a letter, with her name written in rather rough and basic but clear print that instantly distinguished it as Ares' handwriting.

Its contents were simply words of comfort and reassurance, insisting that his promises to her were just as unbreakable as his love was. Never did it occur to him that this could easily pass for engagement vows, for he didn't know enough about the intricacies of marriage ceremonies to catch the similarities, but it wouldn't have changed what he wrote if he did. Its goal was to ensure Lene would always have one pure and untampered message summarizing what she means to him, written by him and meant solely for her, to fall back to when he couldn't be there to say it himself.

But of course he now knew that a voice alone was not going to satisfy her, especially when his writing was already so mediocre that it could never properly bring his heart to the page. Thus, the reason for the bear became apparent. Cute, huggable, and specifically given by the love of her life, it was the part of his 'body' to the letter's part of his 'voice' that could help fill the space in those empty rooms.

"Should circumstances force us apart again, I hope that will do more to keep your sadness at bay until we reunite…"

He let a beat pass so she might study her gift, searching and hoping for signs that his knowledge about her preferences wasn't mistaken, but it wasn't long before he nudged her back to the present regardless. A soft, "But right now…," was paired with a tilt of his head that lined his gaze with hers. That other hand, still wrapped around her at the hip meanwhile, gently pulled her in close to remind her he was here as he presented his final gift: "…All of my time is yours today."

Come what may, that was the current, undeniable truth, and it was one he was proud to be able to say to her, so much so he had to stop and play it back in his thoughts.

To have the power to simply…pause the world around them for a day --

To meet with her so regularly that he could dare call it a set schedule --

--Ares could only stop and marvel at the simultaneous familiarity and disbelief of this feeling tickling him right out of his skin as he could confidently declare:

"Wherever you would like to go, whatever you want to do, we can spend it together however you see fit."

This strong sense of idyllic peace that was already pervading this morning, it wasn't a bad thing at all, but it was one he'd tasted very rarely. Such pleasure was still so new that he didn't know what to do with it, and in absence of being able to draw on something more fitting, he simply fell numb from its wonderful warmth.

"…We haven't had this much free time since we met, have we?"

The thought trickled out absently as his lidded eyes briefly glanced at the floor to reflect.

He spoke of Dahna, of course.

Back before everything went so terribly wrong again, it was there that he began to remember what it was like to be right. Wandering the streets of Dahna til late into the night, having long conversations on the castle steps, discovering a rare sense of comfort and understanding in each other's experiences that they never thought they'd find…

What he felt then was the same as now, suspended in some kind of dream that, no matter how deeply he drank from it, he could never have enough of. And at the center of both, at the very beginning of the end of those long years of darkness, was the same woman who stood before him now despite everything thrown her way.

Several years already spent together, and yet a touch of blush still snuck across his otherwise stoic expression that had now fallen back into the twinkling light in her eyes -- something he once feared was lost forever. Further and further he drifted, until noses and foreheads were no more than a hair's breadth apart, as he added:

"I can think of no better time to have it back."

In the morning sunlight, Lene stretches her back and stifles a yawn. Early starts were the bane of her week but at least it meant she could spend the whole day by Ares side. A blessing more than worth getting up at the crack of dawn for. Now, if only her eyelids would stop being so very heavy...

They flutter back open the moment warm, calloused hands cup her face. Had it been anyone else Lene would probably have jumped back screaming for dear life. She recognises his touch instantly however, knows immediately she is safe and sound. A smile spreads across her face as she drinks him in.

"Mornin' love. You're chipper today, huh?" Ares' hands are so gentle as they hold her face. His fingers move deftly and she follows, seeking his warmth. Their eyes and lips meet almost simultaneously. Her eyelids drift shut once more, savouring the moment's bliss.

Best. Birthday. Ever.

The cloth bag takes her by surprise. It seems heavy and her stomach stirs uncomfortably. Lene adores him, wants nothing more than to spend time with the man she loves beyond words. She prays he hasn't wasted money on things she cannot possibly hope to give back in return. Relief floods her when she sees the adorable stuffed bear inside.

In full armour. A very Ares touch. One that delights her to the very core!

Tentatively, she takes the letter it carries and opens it. Pours over every word as if she is lost in the desert of Dahna and this is her oasis. Each letter, carefully penned in Ares handwriting is more precious to her than any jewels or gold could ever hope to be. She reads them slowly, as if terrified that once she gets to the end they'll disappear into smoke and ash.

The words read almost like wedding vows, a little less formal and formulaic but just as heartfelt. If not more so, knowing they were penned personally, by Ares own hand for her to keep close to her heart. She hears his voice, asking her to keep her sadness at bay and lets out a loud, inelegant sniffle. Her tears stay back though, glittering in her eyes as he nudges her back to reality. Lene grins, smiles as though she's trying to outshine the sun and laughs. Laughs into his chest as she pulls him close.

"I can't promise not be sad without you, silly! But I'll try my best, should we be separated to focus on cherishing times like this. To smile everyday, even if it feels like you've left a very tall, handsome hole next to me." Her arms wrap around his waist and she doesn't want to let go. Not now, not ever. Impractical, she knows, but if home is where the heart is, he is her home. Safe, kind, passionate, loving Ares - he's all she could ever want, ever ask for. "Is that a fair compromise? You better do the same too, okay. The thought of you hurting--"

Lene decides not to finish that thought aloud. Instead she stands on the balls of her feet, leans up closer to him. They're a hair's breadth apart when she closes the gap of her own accord, lingering for a moment in which the world seems to stop. Time freezes around them and she could swear they were the only two people in the world. Her heart feels effervescent and beats so fast that Lene wonders if it's trying to fly right out of her chest.

She pulls away, smiling like the cat that got the cream.

"Well, if you're not too busy maybe we could take a wander into town for brunch? It would be nice to share a meal together away from prying eyes."

[princessmacedon]

Parts Unknown

When she wakes - or rather, when she opens her eyes to a new dream - Maria sees a blood red sky, though she know sky is not the right word; it is the light of that ruinous glow seeping through tendrils of smog atop the bones of what must once have been a glorious city, and it tells them at once just what sort of world they have come into. 

It does not take long for them to separate into smaller groups, shock and awe quickly stifled for the more important task of finding their bearings. She, for her part, joins the patrol of Ares and Valter, traipsing across the unfathomably large chunks of fallen debris or scurrying through the crooked shadows they leave behind. Warmachina or small game - they will take whatever they can find.

Or, as it happens, they will take what finds them. The strange flying machine is unsubtle in its approach, the sound it makes as it charges them an unsettling hum, but in spite of this, or rather because of it, Maria summons a pillar of light to smite the fiend in an instant. 

“There,” she breathes, lowering her hand as the thing falls to the ground in a useless heap, seared and torn. Approaching it cautiously, she waits for it to fall silent altogether, and then a moment longer, ere she kneels amongst the wreckage. The little cleric holds a hand over the glowing core - no heat, oddly enough - then prises it from its home. 

“I think... this is what we’re looking for?” 

@lionscion

[gradible]

gas gas gas

“Thank you for agreeing to come with me.” 

Freedom is slowly starting to slip out of their hands. It is the stream of sand falling between desperate fingers; no matter how hard they try to squeeze tight and hold on, some of it seems to trickle away with every passing second. The desire to leave is fading, this world trying to make itself their home. Simple repairs have completely refurbished their lodgings, the Aukes and deadly machines have forgotten their hostility--even the sky is clearer now. The sun casts its glare against the red of Sirius’ visor.

So he stands now, arms folded over his chest, back leaned against the door to a driver’s seat. He had driven this carriage--car for short--with some passengers before. He remembers how it works. More importantly though, is that he’s become acutely aware of how strange the sudden peace is. Three wars have taught him that peace--that freedom--cannot simply be forced onto others. It must be earned for oneself, through fierce trials and the strength required to overcome. They’ve suffered much in this dream, but still these changes reek of the calm before a violent storm.

“I understand that my request was... Odd,” he continues, his foot softly kicking off the car’s steel plate, “but we mustn’t forget that we’ve come here with a purpose...” The trail of his dialogue runs cold for a moment, Sirius having to force himself to remember that purpose. The knights; his comrades. It is for their sake that they plunged into this world, and now that they’ve resurfaced, they need an out.

Question is: just how do they get out? Slick gasoline will, with any luck, be their answer.

“I trust you understand the plan. We are to make use of the swift spokes of this ‘car’ to find our escape. This land, as you know, is a fabrication. It must have been made by someone... It must have its limits.” 

But even he can’t say for sure where they lie. Everything, from the threat of assault to the promises of brothership with the Aukes, seems intent on hindering their movements. Surely, then, that limit isn’t far...

Sirius turns on his heel and enters through the front. He leans over to pop open his passenger seat, and backward to get the one directly behind. Such is the courtesy of a knight of Grust. Following the same routine from last time, his fingers find the button that Sylvain had pressed last time, his feet the pedals, and his free hand that stick the Mechanic spoke of. Two clicks, he remembers, and the engine is running and ready to drive. 

The smallest nudge of his chin signals for the others to join him inside. For all he knows, it may be one of the last they see in this dream.

//starter for @lionscion and @princepsumbra

[nagaficat]

What's With This Sassy Lost Child?

@lionscion

Deirdre is overjoyed to learn that Aphie is still with them when she wakes. She is determined to make the young girl feel welcome and wanted in their little group. Because of course she is! Deirdre cannot imagine anyone turning her away. Surely they all hold the same feelings in their hearts for Aphie that she does!

And Aphie provides a unique point of view in this dreamscape. Deirdre has many questions and so very little answers. She hopes the girl might be able to provide some clues.

She approaches Aphie and holds out the mysterious flower crown. "This came through that mysterious blue light. Someone sent it to me, I am sure of that! You know more about this place than anyone else, do you have any idea where such flowers might grow? I did not think such beauty existed in a place like this."

Aphie cheerfully accepts the flower crown, thinking it a gift for her

(because duh, why wouldnt it be)

"They grew in the happier places," she notes, not fussed at all! "But not here."

Deirdre grins as she immediately dons the crown. She had planned on offering it to her, of course. Though she does feel sad that she had not made it herself. Part of the joy of such a gift is knowing that it was made with love. But she is glad to see Aphie so cheerful.

She reaches over to tuck a stray hair behind their new ally's ear. "Where are these happier places? I would like to see them?"

She beams neath the praise.

"Not here! Teeheehee~"

Girl's gotta keep some secrets...

"Well!" She claps her hands together decisively. "I think this place is already becoming happier simply because you are here now, my darling Aphie. I hope you will allow us to protect you and keep you safe. Those Aukes, they are frightening."

It is a shame that Aphie does not know. She would have liked to have picked more flowers for her and watched as her smile grew larger. Because of course the reason she does not say is because she does not know. Deirdre would never think that someone might withhold anything from her purposely!

(aphie making a face like *wow adults are Cringe*)

[hosannan]

"Don't move."

Ares mumbled it at the first, slightest sign of movement, accompanied with a stern hand gently pressed against her shoulder in case words were still too hard to understand by themselves. His attention remained firm and focused in front of him meanwhile, hunched over his other hand as it maintained rubbing a slow and steady circle into her exposed leg that was propped on top of a partly torn blanket. A cold and thick paste coated his bare fingers, and thus where it touched her leg as well.

"Dark magic takes its own special kind of toll on flesh," Ares reminded absently, drawn both from his own experience and the Monastery's more detailed lessons, while he reached for a strip of cloth that had frayed edges matching the ends of the blanket's. Trails of water dribbled off of it, from a shallow bowl of water obscured behind his bent legs, and two fingers drew it up into a ball to squeeze the excess out before dabbing it on another area.

"Give the medicine time first."

Post-Expedition

"!!" A grimace was rich on her lips.

Nanna drew in a slow breath and let it out through her nose, fingers curling lightly into the edge of the torn blanket beneath her. The sting along her leg pulsed in uneven waves, a dull heat beneath the surface where the dark magic had kissed too close. She had felt worse. She had endured worse. Still, there was something uniquely invasive about this sort of wound—like a bruise that remembered the hand that made it.

“…I am not planning to run anywhere,” she murmured, though the faint crease between her brows betrayed the effort it took not to shift when the cold paste spread across tender skin. Her gaze dipped to watch his hands instead. The deliberate circles. The careful dabbing. The quiet competence of someone who had tended his own injuries more times than he cared to count.

“I know,” she said more softly, in answer to his reminder. “It lingers. As if the body must be convinced it is safe again.”

The cloth touched a sore spot and her breath hitched (small, sharp) but she did not pull away. Instead, her hand drifted to pat his forearm. "Ares, I wiil be well..." But when was the last time someone worried over her like so?

"...Sorry." She corrected herself too quickly. For someone who bottled her feelings, just shaking twice was enough for the stars to pour out. "I mean, thank you."

Why was it easier for the former than the latter? Did Ares mind?

Even if he did, having a cousin so conscientious of her wellbeing made it feel like she ought to make up her mind, and quickly. To be the bridge. To communicate more. To let him know.

"Thank you."

She was grateful that she had him to lean on.

[hosannan]

“She’s pulled through.”

Ares found Nanna as soon as he’d finished seeing for himself, his voice breaking the silence with a lingering pensiveness. The danger had passed, like he’d just said, but any relief was hard to find beneath the bitter severity lining his brow.

“You reached her just in time, Nanna,” Ares trailed briefly, “...and spared us both.” Lips pressed from the sting of saying so, and his gaze couldn't help but shift. Not because he was ungrateful, but because he was the very reason it needed to be said at all.

Week 2 Intermission (Post-Thracia)

"...Ares!"

"Are you alright? How are your injuries?" Nanna bit down on her heart and let the worries cascade off her tongue. To 'spare them both' was to mean he was trifling with worries of his own. A neck on the line, and a blade set against his nape. Nanna had never known the depth of his contrition—though he was a man whose culpability was tailored by others. He was a man who was guilty by default, only by association. He was Javarro's boy, and Lord Eldigan's son. So while Ares never spoke a word of guilt to Nanna in particular, she couldn't help but wonder after his heart. What more was this young man supposed to be guilty about?

"Let me care after you...!" She does not allow him to refuse.

Remembering their talks with Linhardt was another thing she had to parse. Was it the blood lust that had made him strike Serra that way? Was it an accident? Had he been berserked without her knowing?

"You spared us a total team defeat, and for that, I regard your strength a great boon."

"I am here if you ever need to talk."

It's almost an empty prayer at this point. But her offer still stands, regardless.

Her stomach twisted, not knowing how else to put it. They were not meant for black and white morality when it came to war fronts. Everything was a muddy gray.

"And--"

She carefully put down her Physic staff, and held out her hand. The light from it came from Fodlan. The accumulation of her years in Garreg Mach had gotten her just this far. Not enough to fortify an unsteady heart, but enough to sew a few scars back together.

Clasping his hand in hers, she lets the healing magic unroot from her body into his.

"I'm here even if you don't."