don't bother haunting me.

⚔           You gave a disgruntled huff at his initial question, ready to rebuff him at a moment’s notice. Well, you would were it not the fact you were tired as all hell. You click your tongue and reopen your eyes to shoot him a glare. 

“It just so happens I keep running into you then? Somehow, I doubt that the case.” You try to argue, clearly not in any sort of mood to deal with… whatever this was. “I don’t want to go there. I don’t know who my supposed roommates are and I have no intention to find out. It’s easier to move around out in the open.” And with that admission, you cross your arms and close your eyes again, hoping that was enough to have Sylvain leave.

(You knew that wouldn’t be the case, now that he was here, but you wanted to at least try.)

“…I’ll just rest my eyes for a few moments and then find something to eat. The bakery looked like it had loaves for sale.” 

You're not put off by the glare that he sends your way - if he didn't look two seconds from actually passing out, it might have more effect, but as it stands? The only thing you're actually worried about is just that. The fact that he looks like it's been a week or so since he's actually gotten a decent amount of sleep.

.. Or any sleep, at that?

"I'm not intentionally seeking you out," it's not the truth, but it's not quite a lie either, "Actually, I was on my way to get something to eat." You say you weren't intentionally trying to find him, but it doesn't stop you from crouching across from where he sits propped up against a tree, letting your forearms rest over your knees comfortably. It was probably obvious enough that you don't intend to leave him be when he thinks that taking a nap against a tree in the middle of a park is a good idea.

If he insists, the least you can do is watch his back so he doesn't have to worry about it. ... As much.

Dimitri was down here for answers.

At some level it should’ve occurred to him that yes, this would require sifting through a library’s archives. His one good eye ached.

His first thought was to get to the nonfiction. This was easier said than done–unfortunately he was not native to here nor here for very long; any historical documents he was at the mercy of Saturninity’s classification system, to which he wasn’t wholly familiar.

A yawn escaped him, wringing his face out in his hand. “I worry I’m simply uncultured enough to know what any of this means, have you made any progress?” 

At least Sylvain was here, at the table alongside him, working through the mess of books before both of them. He cast a worried glance his way, though; was he making any better sense of this than he was?

@lustreless​​

The trek down here hadn't been as bad as Sylvain had been expecting it to be - the stairway leading to (basically) the bottom of the ocean had seemed more foreboding than it actually was, huh? In reality, it was just fascinating. And really pretty, actually.

But the real treat? This library was top of the list, for the moment. There's not a lot of places that Sylvain would be able to say he favors, not honestly or directly to anyone for the most part, and libraries are definitely the top of that unspoken list. Sylvain's hardly even realized that he's said maybe a half dozen to words to Dimitri since they've started compiling books and reading.

The question is what earns Sylvain's attention again and he blinks out of his focus, looking up from the book he's leaned over, taking notes on. "Well, some. Nothing worth sharing, yet. It's sort of like a puzzle, and all the pieces are down here - it's just a matter of finding them!" It's interestingly wise, coming out of Sylvain's mouth, but he doesn't linger on it much longer.

*           Light scratching of a pen on paper   fills the air around him. Claude’s brow is pinched from focus, stare fixed on the notes in front of him. Of course the library had been one of the first places he’d gone to. Out of anywhere in this sunken city, it was bound to have the most information, right? At the very least, he was bound to find something interesting.

He’s paused, head balancing on the tips of his fingers when he hears it. Peering around one of his book piles to get a better view, Claude pulls an easy smirk across his face.

    “Ha! Despite all appearances, I wouldn’t be foolish enough to let that happen.” Absently, he taps his pen against the glass of his phone, which sits next to his scattered assortment of notes and books. Before he continues, he uses it to gesture at the chair as if to say ‘go right ahead’.

     “Well, the short answer is ‘yes’. Yes I have. But I have a feeling you want to know the actual things that I’ve learned, so… I hope you’re free and ready to narrow down what categories you want to hear about.”

Sylvain takes the seat when Claude motions, plucking the top book from his own stack to open it and set it to the side - before doing similar with the next two, and the pad of paper he'd managed to hide amongst the collection he'd amassed. His chin props in his hand as he looks down to the first book, toying with the edge of the page as he listens to Claude talk. The attention he pays isn't obvious in much but his tone, though. He's great at multitasking.

"I had a feeling," and it's true, there was a part of Sylvain that just knew, "I'm more than free! Nothing pressing going on at the moment, but asking me to narrow it down.." he manages to sound so put out about being asked to be more specific, somehow. There's a part of him that's just grateful Claude is so willing to share what he's learned, and another part of him that just screams curiosity.

He taps the pen in his hand against his lips lightly before Sylvain looks up from the first book, through his lashes, an eyebrow raising minutely. "Start with what you've found to be most interesting, then. Narrow it down for me so I can ask about something we'll both like," as though there'd be anything to not like? It was all ridiculously interesting, somehow.

⚔         The time you had between wandering from park to park, to exploring the rest of this modern place was short of uneventful. You gave yourself every reason to be alert, to always suspect there was an enemy presence lurking, but nothing ever came to pass. You refused to step foot in your new lodging, rationalizing that, while you might’ve preferred a more comfortable place to rest, your stubbornness and pride held you back. So, instead, you kept at it, for a couple of days, until your path crossed Sylvain’s once more.

You didn’t mean for it to intentionally. You were resting underneath a tree’s cooling shade, after all. He just so happened to approach you while you were ready to close your eyes, not having had a stable night of rest in a while. You greet him by acknowledging him and then slowly closing your eyes, arms crossed.

“…what do you want?” 

@lustreless  ⚔

Truth be told, there was a part of you that didn't want to let Felix out of your sight. There was only so much you could do, though, without feeling as though you were forcing it. And forcing things with Felix was never something that went well, you knew that much from experience. So there's another part of you that isn't surprised in the least that when you happen upon him again, not that you were looking for him- strangely enough - it's somewhere more secluded.

Not entirely so, considering a park isn't exactly private, but it's more calm in comparison to the bustling streets and shops. You do note that it looks like he's basically trying to take a nap - and that it looks like it's been at least a handful of days since he got a remotely adequate amount of sleep. Probably longer, but you weren't going to point fingers. ...  Yet.

It's not that Sylvain wasn't expecting to run into anyone else down here - he hadn't seen anyone in passing, not yet, and he knows he shouldn't be surprised that it's him of all people that he could've bumped into. Maybe a handful of other people, but he's heard enough stories to find it sort of fitting to find Claude in a massive library, also surrounded by books. 

The stack in his own arms rivals the pile beside the other, and Sylvain can't help the wry looking smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips.

"Fancy meeting you down here, huh?" He's not exactly surprised, but he could at least let it seem like he was - even if only a little bit, "Didn't think you'd have risked getting wet after all that snow probably soaked you to the bone." It's more teasing, bordering on a playful sounding jab, and Sylvain accentuates that with a wink. Just one, and he shifts away from where he'd basically kicked Claude's chair in his effort to pass him by, turning to place down the ridiculous stack of books in his arms onto the table beside him.

⚔          Despite your pleas, the phantom doesn’t disappear like it always did. Stubbornly, he remains and surprises you with a hug– a real, physical, tangible feeling as his larger self brings you close to him. You don’t remember the last time anyone has held you or comforted you like this. Your back straightens out, tenses as you find yourself awkward and unprepared for this. 

Even so, you don’t push him away. The fact that he’s real, not some illusion made up by your mind, sends you trembling. All the guilt and rage that consumed you mere moments ago seems to disappear as your body slowly eases into his embrace. What had you been missing this whole time? When did your pride become your one end goal? Questions that fill your mind remain unanswered as you tilt you head slowly, resting your cheek ever so lightly on his shoulder.

You don’t notice the small trembles of your body, refusing to acknowledge such a gentle act could reduce you to this. You had fell enemies and comrades alike–but this was your undoing? If the Goddess had humor, this was but a pitiful joke.

After what felt like a brutally long moment, your voice manages to come through. “…idiot.” You raise your hand, ready to pound on his chest with your fist– but the point of impact never comes. Instead, with careful hesitancy, you place your hand over his chest, proving with the beat of his heart that Sylvain was real and alive in front of you. 

You are fortunate he can’t see you, how you struggle with knitted brows as your hand curls back into a fist. “…aren’t you embarrassed? What if we’re seen?” You ask, still uncertain how to approach him with…friendliness. Not since your school days together were you on amicable terms. 

You can feel him go rigid in your arms, though it doesn't particularly surprise you. He's never been someone entirely.. well, fond of affection. Physical especially - you'd lost count of the times you'd slung your arm around his shoulders to walk and talk with him, just to have it shrugged or shoved off.

What does surprise you is that you aren't being shoved away. He's not pushing you or trying to escape and it makes something in your chest hurt a little more, but that's easily and pointedly ignored in favor of catching the way he eases against you. It shouldn't feel so sad, you think, to give your best friend a hug. There's a part of you that's relieved that he can't see your face, either.

Your arms tighten when you realize he's shaking, even if it's only a little, and part of you is worried he's actually crying. That's something you haven't seen in years, and, well.. while you figure it'd be good for him, you don't figure he'd want to do it outside - especially in an unfamiliar place. "Always," the response to the insult is easy and you shift a hand to rub soothing little circles right between his shoulder blades. 

You don't mention the way you rest your cheek against his head, either, because some things are better left unacknowledged.

❝Huh, all right. I guess that just makes you half a sleazebag then.❞ That’s probably the best compliment he’s ever given anyone and he doesn’t plan on doing it again. He can’t blame the guy for wanting some kind of special attention every now and then. Dabi has dipped his toe in that way of acting before after all. 

❝Any luck so far on playing Prince Charming?❞

“Alright, alright, fair enough. Nicer than most people would concede, too, so I’ll take it,” not as a compliment, but it’s close enough, and Sylvain isn’t about to press this guy for anything nicer. He might have something similar to a death wish at times, but he’s not that reckless.

... Probably.

⚔          The weight of it all is starting to catch up to you, along with questions you had been fending off since the war ended. What were you fighting for? No, not for the Empire. You didn’t give a single shit about such grandiose ambitions. Yourself? Because of some selfish reason to set yourself apart from the rest? To refuse to hear out that boar and follow him blindly to the grave? Like your brother did? Like your father? Your friends? Yes, that seemed more like it. In the end, you grew selfish, tied up by chains of your own making. That’s why you couldn’t accept the Sylvain in front of you, refusing to believe he’d still care after what you’d done to him.

You wanted him to be just as angry as you were–you wanted someone to channel that anger towards you because that’s how you felt about yourself. Every time you wandered across the lands and slayed foes left and right, you did so because there was naught else you could calm yourself anymore. There were no songs to calm you, no laughter and camaraderie among friends to ground you. 

You were a monster, that much was certain. You became the very thing you hated–and fitting, really. It was as tragedy followed in your wake. 

When the other begins to talk again, you don’t take your eyes of him for a second. He dares to come closer, but you don’t bother tensing up. You wished he’d be quicker, if anything. Maybe his words held some credence. After all, you were the one who provoked him, wasn’t it? You stormed your way on the battlefield, certain to get to them before the Empress could. You felt a stab of remorse, one you don’t think you’ve ever felt so vividly, as your eyebrows knit in frustration. 

“It doesn’t change what I’ve seen…what happened when we fought. I broke our promise. I let you die first,” you admitted despite yourself, your gaze breaking as you looked anywhere else except for him. Your nails dug deep into your palm, still some bit of fight left in you, refusing to give in. “I made sure…no one would get in the way when I struck that boar down too.” 

And when he reminded you of your youth? How you clung like a helpless brat, crying whenever you were in the slightest bit of danger or uncomfortable situation? How pitiful you were then, relying on others, knowing they couldn’t save you in the end. Sylvain is closer now but you haven’t got an escape route, nor did you want to really. He still considered you a friend– his best friend. How foolish. 

“I don’t know what to make of this- of any of this, but I’m…” Another thick swallow, feeling some semblance of anguish rise in your chest, “I’m so tired. If I am the only one to remember, fine. So be it. Just please–” Your voice trembles despite yourself, your gaze still lowered in fear of tears threatening to spill. Even if you hadn’t cried in years, this encounter alone was enough to make it possible.

“Leave me be. I refuse to go back to how things were. I’m far beyond redemption to make amends.” 

The words sting in a way you've never felt before - you pride yourself on having thick skin, on having so many walls and barriers that no one would be able to find their way through them. That no one would be able to break them, that you wouldn't have to worry about feeling vulnerable in front of anyone. Each mask you had was constructed carefully, perfectly, each in different ways that would suit every situation you could possibly think of.

This, though? This wasn't something you could've ever prepared for. You never took Felix for a liar, you never thought there would ever come a day where you'd hear him say that he broke the promise the two of you had made all those years ago. It still doesn't make sense, parts of it, because back home-- you're sure, positive, that things weren't like this.

Why were his memories different?

He asks you to leave in so many words, and there's a part of you that almost wants to listen. He sounds so broken, so much weaker than you've ever seen from him, and it makes you want to do anything he asks of you. Just to ease some of that suffering, any of it, to lessen any of those things you could see plaguing him.

You don't move from your spot, though, and you can feel pieces of those masks chipping away - little by little. You don't want him to see that you're hurting, because you can tell he's hurting so much more. He doesn't deserve to feel guilty-- to feel worse for effecting you like this, in ways you can't even truly understand yourself.

"I'm not going anywhere," your answer is steadier than you expect it to be and it almost surprises you, but you let it roll off of your shoulders quickly in exchange for taking the last few steps forward - if you'd been intending to attack him to begin with, you still have a fire spell to bend at your will to make up for your lack of a lance, but the thought doesn't even cross your mind. It never would.

You're much less hesitant in wrapping your arms around him than you thought you would be, too. It's not often you burst his personal space bubble like this, it's not often that you think he'll let you just give him a hug. Even less often that you think he'll let you escape uninjured.

⚔          He took a step closer, one you’re less than comfortable with, reducing the gap between you. You were always so careful to keep the memories of them– of him at bay, forcing yourself to wander through Fodlan in search of a distraction. Anything to quell the ache that ate at you. Seemingly paralyzed, you weren’t able to take another step back even if every cell in your body screamed at you to move. Sylvain always had a knack of making things difficult, didn’t he? 

He claims he’s harmless, that he’s simply trying to obtain answers. You can’t help but laugh dryly and with that, you’re able to take a small, shaky step back. You feel a wall behind you and realize you have nowhere left to run. Nowhere left to deny the misery that afflicts you.

“DON’T MOCK ME!” you slam your fist back into the wall, fist trembling as you narrowed your gaze further, anger laced into every word. “I…I left you on that battlefield to die. I struck you down so I could get to that hellish boar…so don’t pretend that you care! If you’re anything like the Sylvain I knew, you’d jab that lance of yours through me to protect that demonic king!” 

Your words echo between you, your conviction cemented on the belief that you no longer had a friend in this person. No, you knew you weren’t a friend in his eyes, not after what you’ve done. Not after what you’ve said.

You lower your fist and your gaze, exhausted from having said your piece. You wanted this phantom to leave you be, to let you forget about your betrayal. 

“…I suppose it’s only fair you’d pester me. There no rest for the weary..” Your gaze has lost its steel, a sudden emptiness as you look up to gaze at the face of your former friend. “Terrible, isn’t it? Even after all that I’ve done, I still can’t help but cling onto you. Ha…what’s happened to me? Why was I brought here and then forced to deal with you?” 

You don't realize that you basically have him cornered until he takes another step back from you and meets a solid wall behind him. It has you stopping entirely, and you're caught off guard enough by the way his voice raises that you actually flinch back - just barely, and you try to hide the wince with the way you square your shoulders and let them sag gradually.

This doesn't make sense. You don't understand.

But you can't just leave him. Not like this. Not ever, but especially not like this. But anything you can say dies on your tongue for the moment as he continues - it's really beyond you to even fathom the fact that Felix could ever kill you. Sure, he threatens you and occasionally resorts to violence when you step on his toes more than enough times, but you--

You made a promise. Both of you. You wouldn't break it, and he wouldn't-- he couldn't have, right? You're standing right here, alive and breathing, and that has to be proof of something, doesn't it? There's too many things that aren't turning the cogs in your head like they usually would, and you have to lift a hand to pinch at the bridge of your nose to get something moving in your brain again. 

At least you know that you'd been basically on point. He's been through something far beyond what you can comprehend, at the moment.

"Felix," you start again, another step forward, but you stop there - you're just a handful of feet away from him, now, "I don't think you believe that for a second." In no world would you ever want to-- to really, genuinely hurt him, "I'd never want to attack you."

It'd kill you sooner than Felix himself would. You're never this genuine with anyone, even Felix very rarely gets to see this from you.

❝Oh.❞ Skirtchaser… because this guy likes to chase skirts… girls in skirts… How did that fly over his head? ❝I thought it meant you like wearing skirts yourself. Turns out you’re just a sleazebag.❞ And a redhead at that, as if that alone isn’t bad enough.

Oh, his heart. It would hurt more, maybe, if it wasn’t something he heard, like.. every other day.

⚔          You felt like a caged animal, unable to find your bearings and eyes staring upon the sins you’ve committed. Now that you found your freedom, why did the past insist on tormenting you so? You knew not why you were terrified or why such a feeling possessed you at all. After all, you cast away your sanity long ago. There wasn’t a person alive who knew you as you once were. You made sure of it. 

You turn as Sylvain’s voice rings in your ears but the words don’t match what’s coming out of his mouth. It overlaps with words from your recent past, of a fight you just can’t put to rest. 

“Hey, Felix? Remember when we were kids and we made a promise about dying together?..Well, it seems we’re about to kill each other.”

You shake your head as though a terrible headache overcomes you. You look up at him, at the man you considered your best friend, in disgust and panic. 

“…e-enough,” You grit through your teeth, wishing your memories would stop messing with you. “Don’t talk to me as if…” As if you didn’t betray him? As if you didn’t abandon your country and your friends for the Empire? As if you didn’t kill him? You can barely get the words out through a thick swallow, taking a cautionary step back. 

“I don’t know what’s going on- but if this is some merciless way to torture me, you’ve got to try harder than that.” 

It's more than solidified that something is very wrong here when Felix turns towards you, your head tilting when he shakes his head and what little color is actually there takes it's quick exit from his face. You have no idea, still, but you can feel the worry and the panic stir in the very pit of your stomach. It's just as quick to work it's way up, too, and the heaviness settles in your chest like lead.

You're quiet and patient when he speaks, when he struggles, and it's obvious that he's gone through something far beyond your comprehension. You don't understand that. Back home, things were fine. It's only been a few months, hasn't it? Time passes and it passes and you lose track of it consistently in this place, but your memory serves you well and you know that.

"Torture you?" The tone sounds disbelieving, and you can't help the way your eyebrows furrow. "Felix, what in Goddess' name are you even talking about?" You take a bigger, tentative step closer to combat the one he's taken back - but no further than that, not yet. You don't want to.. to scare him off? Goddess, that's not something you'd have ever thought about Felix, before.

This is sort of scary. You king of really hate not knowing what's going on.

Especially with Felix. He was always your top priority, his safety and his happiness - even if you could rarely even manage the latter, it was always on the list. And him looking horrified at even just the sight of you? You hate it.

⚔          Everywhere you went, you found no peace. The bubbling creeks and rivers, the laughter of children playing in the parks, all were but cruel reminders of opportunities you have taken away from countless others and, if it were deemed necessary, you would do so again. Left alone with your own devices, the unrelenting thoughts plaguing your mind, you grew frustrated as you continued your stroll. You haven’t even happened upon your new place of residency yet, partly in defiance and partly because your lack of direction.

You wander past a cafe, its allure of bread and snacks drawing you in. You can’t remember the last time you indulged on food like this. You’re mere steps away from entering in when a ghost appears in your peripheral. It’s difficult to ignore him- much like the boar king, the people of your past are easily recognizable. 

It takes all the willpower you have not to start it all again. The vision of that day, of that battle, replays so vividly in your mind as though it were recent. Your two childhood friends stood before that monster, protecting him until their dying breath. You continued to live while they died, breaking a promise you were not able to keep.

You realize he notices you and you tense up- for some reason, you couldn’t face him. You didn’t want to. You quickly turn on your heels, ready to leave the past where it belonged– locked away inside of you. 

@lustreless​  ⚔

This place is full of surprises, and there's a part of you that knows it's definitely not going to stop any time soon. There are places you've explored, places that have caught your attention, people that have taken up your time. It's different than home, different than what you're used to, but you're nothing if not easy going and quick to adjust. Letting anyone see you off your game wasn't in the stars - it never was.

You'd say as much, at least. One more surprise wouldn't have been unappreciated - if not for how that surprise seemed to react to you. It's not entirely out of the ordinary, for him to avoid you if you were being a particular way. But in somewhere so unfamiliar, you'd expect him to approach you to gauge whether you were in need of babysitting - not for him to look like he'd seen a ghost.

That wasn't good. Nothing about that was good.

It's short, the time in which you realize you've stopped on your initial path to follow after him - because you would, you always would, it's always been that way. He would take off, and you'd follow leisurely, because you knew he would always wait for you.

"Hey--" you start, and you're sure it's loud enough to reach his ears, even from the feet still between you, "What's with that, huh? Not even gonna ask if I've gotten up to anything while you weren't around to kick my ass?" It sounds stupid even as you say the words - because you can tell there's something wrong, that something is off - but you can't help the teasing, when it comes to Felix.

lustreless replied to your post: “Why do I have the feeling sylvain is up to…

Flawless timing, what can I say… ;)

“don’t make that face at me! “

❝Tsk, spare me the pompous answer.❞ The dictionary is dull and boring anyway, so he chooses the latter option. ❝Easygoing.❞