sranks | locked to darkseal

locked to darkseal

[Truthfully speaking, this Ball was nothing more than a glorified dance class in Linhardt's mind. They were practically obligated to attend and partake, dancing with people and exchanging smiles and pleasantries; a ball like this was at least somewhat important to the nobility, Linhardt was sure, but as far as he was concerned? He had no business here, and the first chance he could get out, he took gladly.

He wasn't altogether sure about where to go, honestly; he could certainly just turn in for the night on his bed, or get back to his crest research, but there was another curiosity that he wanted to take a look at; the Goddess Tower. The details were a little fuzzy in Linhardt's mind, but he had heard some so-called rumors about what happened within the tower. Something interesting would happen if two people entered the tower...was it that they would be blessed by the Goddess if they shared a vow, or that they would be cursed for defiling her tower? Linhardt couldn't really recall off the top of his head, as it wasn't a topic that interested him too much, but...well, it was an interesting research opportunity and there was certainly a first time for everything.

But of course, he knew very well he wasn't exactly destined for much in the love department. As far as he was concerned, the Goddess Tower would be a once in a lifetime napping spot, and Linhardt intended to take the bait. It was surprisingly quiet, though he didn't doubt that there were people waiting to come in and try to find their 'true love', as they would likely call it. Linhardt finds his way to a nice spot within the tower, settling himself in for what's likely to be an interesting sleep, if nothing else.

Who knows, maybe he'll get to eavesdrop on some unlucky sap within the tower before he nods off, or perhaps even hear someone find the love of their life. The latter would certainly be a nice thought, for one of the others, perhaps. That would at least be interesting to hear...]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[...Ah, and there he goes already. Linhardt does find himself listening, at the very least; it's good that they were able to secure this place without too many casualties. If something were to happen here tomorrow, they would be well prepared for an attack.

It's a possibility Linhardt doesn't want to think about, really. It should be fine, shouldn't it? That's what he hopes, at least. Maybe the ruling family of the area already has their hands full...]

Oh no, no, that's quite fine; it's assuring to hear that nobody will be entering the territory very easily.

But I should hope that you are still able to relax some, with that considered. [Linhardt chuckles, though; he knows better than anyone that relaxing is truly a luxury, especially now. Still, they do have at least some time, don't they? He nods at Hubert's question, though.]

Well, it was some of the nicest sleep I've gotten in quite some time. [Because he totally napped on the way here, I don't know what you expected.] But it was a rather uneventful little trip, even once I had awoken. The sights are just the same as I remember them from when I used to come here as a child...

[He stretches, though, getting at least some of the cricks out of his neck.]

...It's nice that some things have not changed entirely. This place has always been rather beautiful, and a home to wonderful fishing spots and napping places...

Edited 2019-08-14 01:57 (UTC)

[Hubert hasn't forgotten Linhardt's ties to House Bergliez, but something about that still doesn't sit well with him. Maybe it's the fact that while House Bergliez has agreed to back the Empire, this area still wasn't completely under their control and Hubert himself had to retake the fort. Maybe it's because they haven't heard a single word from Caspar himself since the attack on Garreg Mach. He's undoubtedly still alive - Hubert was very thorough in checking reports of the bodies found - but...

Well, that isn't the point of tonight, and he doesn't want to dwell on it. That's something they can discuss tomorrow, after Linhardt has had time to rest from traveling and after Hubert has had time to get his emotions under control. (Something that shouldn't even be necessary in the first place—)]

I'm pleased to hear that it wasn't a difficult trip. There has been some unrest in the area, even outside the fort.

[That's not what he's going to get into, so he lets it drop.]

There's a room prepared for you here, I'll show you to it whenever you wish to retire for the night.

[...Because Linhardt's definitely going to sleep before he is. He's got a lot of work to do here, though he certainly doesn't mind taking a break to speak with a friend.]

You seem to be doing well. I'm glad to see it.

[It's good Linhardt isn't pushing himself too hard. He had thought that might be the case, since he couldn't keep an eye on Linhardt lately, but it's a relief to see he was wrong.]

[It's something that's definitely stressing Linhardt out a lot more than he admits, though he reasonably knows that Caspar is still alive. Caspar's got way too much spirit to go and die on him, even if he hasn't seen the man in quite some time. Somehow, Linhardt knows he's okay; he'll likely just appear again, as loud and boisterous as ever. It's certainly what Linhardt keeps telling himself, anyway.

Linhardt...nods at the information, though; his expression gains that weird unreadableness for a moment, before a smile comes back on his face.]

I'll let you know when I am ready, then; I'd quite like to continue to enjoy your company until that becomes necessary, considering how long it's been.

[Linhardt's got his own stuff with him, that he sets down in the room for the moment; he doesn't exactly trust the guards to handle some of the things inside delicately, so he'd much rather take care of it himself.

He chuckles, though, at Hubert's observation.]

I did take what you said back then to heart, you know; pushing myself simply for the sake of it isn't going to help anyone in the long run. And despite the stresses that this war brings, I do need to ensure that I take care of myself. [...He's at least admitting that he's been stressed, because let's face it, it's hard not to be when killing is an unavoidable reality, but...he doesn't want to focus on that. So he won't.] ...Well, that, and I do have something of a schedule worked out for my naps, so that I might be able to balance them with my work. It takes priority, of course, but it does ensure that I am able to work properly for Her Majesty, despite the odd looks.

I'm pleased to hear it.

[And he does look very pleased by it! He moves to pull out one of the chairs around the table, gesturing for Linhardt to sit while he takes a seat in the one next to it.]

You've been immensely helpful. Her Majesty has had nothing but glowing praise for your work. She says it's given her more time to deal with her uncle, and I'm sure I don't need to tell you how much she needs that.

[We can't kill the man (yet??) but Lady Edelgard certainly is working out a way to remove him from the picture.]

It's unfortunate that we haven't been in communication over the past month. It would have been nice to hear from you from time to time.

[...He was worried, okay...]

[Oh, Linhardt's gladly going to join him, then; the proximety is...actually kind of nice, all things considered; it's making his chest do weird things, but it's fine, surely it's fine--

...Actually, Linhardt is taken out of those thoughts due to Hubert's comment--he's never really had much of an interpersonal relationship with Edelgard due to their...personalities...but he actually looks to Hubert with some shock.]

...Really? Well...pass on my thanks to Her Majesty, if I don't get the chance to myself, then. Her praise isn't exactly something that comes easily...

[Like. He is actually trying to process that Edelgard gave him praise. Months ago, this wouldn't have even crossed Linhardt's mind, but...wow.

...Anyway, let's focus less on that revelation, Linhardt's look goes a little amused, though he winds up pouting some as well.]

That goes double for you, you know! I realize it wouldn't have likely been feasible, but even a messenger pigeon would have been a rather nice little surprise...I was truly worried that you'd get yourself into too much trouble. [He doesn't sound entirely put out by it, though.] But very well, I'll endeavor to send plenty of messengers for you from now on, you worrywart. Just for you.

[...It's only partially a joke, but the worrywart comment has no bite to it at all. It almost sounds fond.]

I suppose I was lucky to have Nyx's company in those trying times; somehow I knew, just from looking at her, that you would be safe.

[...He's never told Hubert the name of that bear, has he...]

She doesn't always give praise, but do know that you are assisting our efforts greatly.

[He looks very pleased with that, okay. But moving on...

Well, his look softens a bit from pride to a genuine smile. It's a rare expression on him, but it seems to be a bit more common around Linhardt.]

Do be careful with what you send. There's no telling if it will be safe, and I'd prefer not to let any information fall into the wrong hands. Still, I can't say I'd be opposed to communication...

[...Oh, but wait.]

Who is Nyx?

[...Linhardt actually appreciates that a lot--about as much as he appreciates the smile on the man in front of him, honestly. It fills his chest with those weird, swirling, whirling feelings, and Linhardt finds it all too easy to smile at the man in return.]

Haha...you make it sound like I should send it in the form of poetry. Or perhaps even song, though I fear that's more Dorothea's territory than mine. I will try, however, my dear worrywart friend.

[Oh! Linhardt's eyes seem to light up a bit--]

Ah, I haven't introduced you two properly, have I? You've seen her a few times, but--

[He winds up darting over to dig through his bags a bit, before pulling out that stuffed bear that Hubert gave Linhardt all that time ago. She seems to have gotten a new outfit, a nice black cloak and dress that were clearly not made by him, and some...admittedly clumsy, ugly stitches from where she's seen some wear and tear. Those were probably made by him.]

This is my dear Nyx. Rather stunning looking now, isn't she?

[He tips his head a bit when Linhardt gets up, waiting for him to return with a mildly confused look before he recognizes the bear.]

Ah... I hadn't realized you were so fond of her.

[Sure, he'd seen Linhardt cling to the bear when he had looked after the other man, but Hubert hadn't thought much about it. Stuffed animals just aren't something he gets.]

I'm very glad you've found her to be so comforting.

[...should he... tell Linhardt that Professor Byleth gave him that (for some reason??) and he just kind of regifted it immediately...

nah, probably not.]

[Linhardt eases a bit more--he wasn't tense or anything, but he just seems to get even more comfortable when Hubert says that, settling Nyx into his lap and hugging onto her lightly.]

Are you kidding? I love her. She's one of my most cherished possessions; I made sure to take her with me before the plan was sprung. I wouldn't have forgiven myself if I had just left her behind.

[...He sounds entirely serious, though honestly just...really fond in general. It might be slightly disgusting? But he really does cherish his bear.]

She's been an incredible comfort when I worry about everything to do with this war...she puts me at great ease. I truly do thank you for giving her to me.

You're welcome.

[Linhardt likes stuffed animals that much, then... Perhaps that's something to keep in mind. Surely it will come in handy. Somehow.

Anyway.]

I'm pleased I could give you something that you care for this much. It looks as though you've been taking excellent care of her.

Well, perhaps not the best--she's had a few rips and tears in her that I had to attempt to fix, but...

[He shows off her outfit a bit--it's a bit of a simple one, but it was clearly made with a lot of care. The fabric of the dress shimmers a bit too when it catches light, and the stitchwork on both items of clothing is actually pretty professional looking. Even the button that keeps the cloak tied seems to be made with some sort of dark gemstone that catches the light nicely.]

I'd say her outfit is my mother's magnum opus. She's always been very deft with delicate work like this, and when I was younger, she made clothing for many of my stuffed animals. [He chuckles a bit.] I do admit, she gave me a rather odd look when I asked if she would make me something again, so shortly after I had gotten done earning my family's support...but she really outdid herself.

[While he can't really say he understands, he certainly can see how important this is to Linhardt, and that alone is worth praise.]

I'm pleased to see it. It looks magnificent.

[...Linhardt's mother went out of her way to do something like that for him, huh?]

What is your family like, Linhardt? I must admit I don't know much about House Hevring.

[Well, okay, he knows the things he needs to know for a man in his position, but he doesn't know anything about them personally. A mother willing to make her son something so delicate and detailed for a stuffed bear is... sort of strange to imagine, in all honesty. He's curious about it.]

[Linhardt actually smiles a bit at the questioning, though he's definitely surprised that it's coming from Hubert, of all people. Even still, he's more than happy to speak of them.]

Well, my father is a man who's well suited to his position as the head of the Ministry of the Interior; he's a rather detail oriented person, but I do admit that I get a lot of my personality from him. He's always been so incredibly laid back when he isn't on business...well, at least with anything that doesn't have to do with House Bergliez. Nor the Minister of Military Affairs...I suppose where we differ most is that he has enough pride for the both of us, which can prove utterly bothersome when he decides to butt heads with someone...

Still, he isn't a bad man by any means. Perhaps a touch distant due to his work, but he's never once treated me unkindly. I simply wish that he'd apply that to certain others, but...I digress.

Now, mother...my sweet mother. [Linhardt almost sounds exasperated when he talks about her, but it's incredibly fond.] She's the one who took up Father's slack in attempting to instill some values and motivations into me. She's rather overbearing, asking questions about what I've eaten, how well I've been sleeping, how my studies are going...really, she doesn't let up with them. It can be infuriating from time to time, when she tries to find me and wake me up from my perfectly good naps and the like, but she only does so, so that I might lead what she calls an 'enriching life'.

[He winds up smiling a bit softer, though, bringing Nyx a little closer.]

Even so, she is rather supportive of my hobbies and interests, as well as what I like. If I got good marks on my studies, she'd made rather delightful pastries as my reward. She also got me stuffed animals whenever we went into town; she'd let me pick out one to add for my collection whenever we had the chance to go, and she'd make the most delightful little outfits for them. I've saved every one of them, in fact; they're in a little bureau in my room back at the estate. She's gone out of her way for me when she's able to, at times...and she's dragged me about in order to make sure I was doing something other than nap when I didn't want her, at others.

I may think that they can be rather overbearing, or perhaps too prideful at times, but...I would not trade them for anything in the world.

[He listens to all of that quietly, never once interrupting or asking for clarification. What he's heard about the head of House Hevring lines up with what Linhardt's saying, but in some ways it's good to know that there's more to the man than intelligence reports say.

...It feels sort of weird to hear Linhardt speak about them in such a gentle manner.]

You're very lucky to have such supportive parents - though I suppose they're lucky to have a son like you.

[It's said so easily, the compliment given with no hesitation.]

It sounds as though you were raised in a very supportive and caring environment. I can only imagine how proud your parents are of you now.

[...Well, okay, maybe not entirely proud just yet, but they will be someday.]

[...Oh. Linhardt has to admit that he's surprised by that statement--it's definitely an unusual thing coming from Hubert, but he has to admit that he...never thought about that. At least, that they're lucky to have a son like him--and how proud they are of him...

...He's never really wondered about that at all. But it does make him smile, just the slightest bit.]

...Thank you. I really do cherish them dearly; it's because of them that I am who I am.

[...He pauses a bit, though. Just from what Hubert felt was necessary to do to his father, Linhardt knows Hubert's relationship with him was likely terrible. He's never mentioned his mother before...but...]

...Her Majesty...she must be like family to you, isn't she?

[He's not sure if he wants to ask, or if he's overstepping his bounds--he does look away after saying that much, but. He supposes he is curious.]

[He nods at the first part, but Linhardt's question afterwards...

There isn't an easy way to explain what Lady Edelgard is to him. There are very few in the world who could probably understand their situation, and even then that would require one of them actually talk about it. Normally he would brush it off, but he finds himself talking about it anyway.]

I wouldn't call her family, no. That would be an insult.

[...well, judging from that alone it's probably pretty obvious that his family situation is. not a good one???]

Her Majesty is not someone I could call a friend either. She is entirely too far above me for that. I am her retainer, her supporter, and her ally, but I could never consider her to be something that close. It has nothing to do with our places in the world, but rather the path she cuts. Her Majesty is a leader, and I am nothing more than a guide to ensure her path remains clear.

She is my world.

[It's delivered in such a straightforward manner that it's probably jarring. It's obvious to anyone who has spent more than two minutes around them that Hubert cares deeply for Lady Edelgard, but he usually doesn't put it into words in such a way. His tone carries devotion, respect, and admiration. It wouldn't be wrong to say he loves her, because he certainly does.

...It wouldn't be entirely accurate to say that he's in love with her, though.]

[...Ah.

He doesn't know why that makes him feel some...vague knot in his gut. He doesn't really know what it is, either--the way he speaks of Edelgard, so reverently, it shouldn't surprise him anymore, should it? Hubert is her right hand, her most trusted adviser. It makes sense, considering he would do anything she asks of him.

Why is it bothering him now?

Linhardt's outward expression doesn't change, despite the inner turmoil. He can deal with that tomorrow, if needed...]

I'm glad that you have someone like that. It sounds like she has given you much, and you've given her a lot in kind.

[Mmmmmm don't like how that's making him feel vaguely weird, so let's avoid that--Linhardt winds up yawning just a bit, bringing Nyx closer to him in the process.]

...I should probably get to sleep soon. I should be well rested for the meeting tomorrow, after all.

[He nods at that, looking pleased. Linhardt may not fully understand it, but he's seen enough of them at this point to know just how important his relationship with Her Majesty is.]

Of course. I imagine your trip left you tired.

[Even though he slept on the way here...]

Come with me. Your room is nearby. If you need anything, I'll likely be in here for some time.

[He stands and gestures for Linhardt to follow him before leading him off to one of the bedrooms nearby. It's a nicely-furnished room, the sort of place that's comfortable enough for a military base, though still preferring function over fashion.]

Good night, Linhardt. Try not to oversleep.

[It's a joke, and he smirks as he turns to leave.

Had everything gone according to plan, there would have been a strategy meeting about fortifying the fort's security and the transfer of troops from other regions to bolster security. Losing Fort Merceus would be a devastating blow, and not one Hubert will let happen. If everything had gone as he hoped, the meeting would have been relatively quick and he would have spent the remainder of the day organizing soldiers, handling paperwork and letters to the nobles in the area for their support, and otherwise securing the region.

Things often have a way of falling apart right when they really shouldn't, however. Before the meeting can happen, reports of an attack are circulating and Hubert - operating on less sleep than he would have liked - is already roused and ready to take the front lines himself. It's easier to command when he has an idea of who the enemy is, after all.

And besides, Linhardt is here. It would be unacceptable to put him in harm's way. The enemy must be eliminated, and quickly. Preferably before Linhardt wakes.

Hubert is able to ascertain that the rag-tag army isn't bandits, as reported to him, but rather a group of rebels. They aren't exactly a threat; their numbers are far too low to deal any significant damage and they seem disorganized, as though led by someone without much experience in commanding. Despite their flaws there is one thing very wrong with this situation.

He can't pinpoint their leader. While he's out raining dark spells on the enemy, their leader has already slipped by Hubert's usually exceptional defenses. In his rush to secure the fort and ensure Linhardt's safety, he's completely managed to miss the leader sneaking in.]

[Unfortunately for everyone involved, things have a habit of not working out when they're unexpected.

Linhardt had managed to fall asleep quite easily in the fort, despite the feelings churning within him. If this were a better day, he'd likely sleep until Hubert inevitably had to come try to wake him up, due to Linhardt sleeping like a log for the most part. An easily disturbed log, but a log none the less. For most of the fight, he's blissfully asleep, the sounds of battle but an echo in his dream, if even apparent.

That all falls by the wayside the second that the enemy leader manages to find his room, and Linhardt wakes with a horrific start as he barely dodges a lance to his chest by rolling out of bed, undignified and still clutching Nyx until he realizes just who the wielder of said lance is.

He's surprised to find Caspar on the opposing side; they've never fought against one another a day in their lives, after all, and Linhardt does everything he can to try to fend off Caspar with Nosferatu. Caspar's gotten incredibly good at fighting, and even moreso at staying quiet; they both talk while they fight, Linhardt wondering even why this is happening, and he can barely even register Caspar's reasoning. He wants Caspar to stand down, to put his lance down and talk, to be able to convince his friend to join his side so he won't have to kill him--

Caspar gets the upper hand, when the fight is forced into the hallway outside of the room he was staying in. Linhardt trips over his own nightclothes onto the floor, and he's pretty sure he dropped the damn bear at some point because he feels both of his hands go up to try and protect himself when Caspar attempts to land the finishing blow.

It doesn't come.

It doesn't come, because Linhardt casts magic in an attempt to protect himself, and Cutting Gale is an exceedingly potent spell. It's excessive; excessively forceful, excessively windy, excessively against everything that Linhardt stands for, and yet it's only short of Bolganone and Excalibur in terms of his lines of defense against an enemy.

Caspar's sent flying, and there's a sickening crack as he hears his friend hit the wall at a pace that shouldn't even be possible, and Linhardt makes the mistake of opening his eyes to see Caspar's body falling off of the wall, peeling off like old paint. There's, perhaps thankfully, not as much blood as there could be, but it's still there, coming from his head where it hit the wall, and--

Linhardt doesn't know when it became so hard to breathe. He's not sure if he's hallucinating footsteps that are going in the opposite direction--he's not sure if they're friend or foe. He's not registering anything except the sight of his friend's dead body on the ground, and it's clutching his chest and crushing him alive with shock.

What has he just done?]

[The report of an intruder comes surprisingly quickly, and were this any other day and any other situation, Hubert might actually be impressed with his own soldiers. Well, their ability to be quick about getting him information, at least, not so much literally anything else.

A lone intruder can't do much damage, but when the soldier finishes the report by saying that the man was spotted heading in the direction of the war room... Well, Hubert's thoughts probably aren't where they should be. One man cannot take down a fort, no matter how powerful, and waltzing into the enemy's stronghold would only mean his death. His priorities should be on fending off the remaining rebels, but it isn't. There's only one thing he can focus on.

Linhardt.

Hubert is by no means the quickest fighter, and certainly not the sort to go sprinting across the battlefield for any reason when he could just use long range attacks, but he quickly gives orders to the others and takes off back toward the war room. His heart pounds in his throat the entire time and all he can do is hope that he's not too late.

Stupid, stupid, stupid; how could he make a mistake like this?

He doesn't arrive in time to see Caspar hit the wall, he only arrives after all is said and done. He recognizes the blue hair - how could he not? - but he doesn't care that Caspar's dead. He would have gladly killed his former classmate himself if he'd been presented the opportunity. No, he's more worried about...]

...Linhardt.

[He doesn't sound as out of breath as he actually is, and he's quick to close the rest of the way between them, standing between Linhardt and Caspar's body. It isn't a particularly gruesome sight, but given the scene, he's got a good guess what happened.]

Are you hurt? Can you stand?

[They aren't comforting words, but they're questions he needs answered so he can figure out how to proceed from here.]

[Linhardt doesn't really even register Hubert at first; he registers footsteps, perhaps frantic ones coming towards him, or just someone coming in to finish the job, but he doesn't even seem to think to look at Hubert when he asks his questions. He doesn't really even register that there are questions at first, all Linhardt can do is stare at Caspar's lifeless body. His friend, his damn friend.

He did this. He killed Caspar. He took his friend's life, and there's no escaping from that, and the scent of blood, and everything about war that makes his skin crawl--

Linhardt winds up standing and shaking his head, after a solid amount of time has passed; a likely concerning amount to Hubert. His gaze doesn't leave Caspar's body, and words...well, words aren't happening right now. His whole body is shaking something fierce, but the worst Linhardt looks is roughed up some.]

[Linhardt has never liked fighting. He pursued Faith magic because he never wanted to kill, and now...

Caspar lies dead, and there is nothing that can be done for him now. Whatever happened that led to this, it ended in Caspar dying and that is something Linhardt will never be able to forgive himself for - assuming he's even able to process it to begin with.

He can't say he understands, but he knows enough to know that Linhardt can't be here right now.]

Come with me.

[It's an order, firm and resolute. He doesn't wait for Linhardt to respond, instead he grips the other man's shoulder firmly. He'll turn Linhardt around and pull him close. That hand doesn't move from Linhardt's shoulder as he marches them both forward and away from Caspar's body. It doesn't matter where they go, they just need to be as far away from here - and the battle - as they can get.

There aren't any words. He doesn't have any that could comfort Linhardt and he's not sure the other man is registering much right now anyway.

Hubert brings them to a stop once they've reached one of the fort's towers. This one is empty right now, and the thick stones muffle any sounds of a clash still ongoing outside. They won't be found here for awhile yet, and he can deal with the reports and finishing off the rest of the rebels then. They should all be killed, not routed, but he can't focus on that right now. He can't deal with the things that probably should be his top priority, because Linhardt is...

Well, Linhardt isn't doing much of anything, is he?

Hubert doesn't let go of his shoulder, or try to move away. It's nothing so intimate as a hug, but it's close proximity and for now that's the best he can offer.

Now if only he could keep his hands from shaking.]

[He's moving.

That's all Linhardt can register, really, is that he's moving. He's moving away from the body (Caspar's body), and his mind is playing through every version of the scenario in his head as they walk, replaying the moments again and again, every single thing Linhardt tried to say to get Caspar to stand down and put his lance down, everything that lead up to that sickening crack and the realization that he just murdered his friend in cold blood.

He doesn't even know why they're in the tower when his vision starts to blur, and he comes...well, not back into reality; not yet, at least. It takes a solid several minutes for Linhardt's eyes to not be so wide, practically unseeing, before his expression settles into that weird, unreadable calm that is more concerning than anything, usually. His eyes seem almost...dead, in a way they're usually not; dulled significantly, and looking like they're gazing a thousand miles away.]

...Caspar's dead. He's gone.

[Linhardt's tone is calm, free of any hitches of breath or wavering. It's perhaps unsettling to see, or perhaps a prelude of what's to come as he feels his vision start to blur again, his eyes beginning to shine with a telltale sign that he's about to break.]

Edited 2019-08-14 06:40 (UTC)

[He moves a bit, so he can get a better look at Linhardt's face with those words. It isn't the first time he's seen someone so shellshocked from killing, but it never gets any easier. Usually he'd leave that to someone else, someone with more compassion and empathy, someone who can understand and address the problem—

No, someone who can help.

He doesn't have the luxury of that now, and even if he did, he couldn't bear the thought of leaving Linhardt with anyone else right now.]

Yes, he is.

[That's not comforting or helpful. But he sees no reason to shield Linhardt from the truth either.]

Linhardt, what happened was... [necessary] ...an accident. Do you understand?

[It isn't your fault, he wants to say. You did what you had to. Neither of those are helpful.

He never should have had to fight Caspar. He never should have gotten in, or found Linhardt, or forced him into this situation to begin with. He could have killed Linhardt. This shouldn't have happened, he should have never let this happen...

But just as before, the apology he needs to deliver doesn't come. His grip tightens on Linhardt's shoulder.]

Edited 2019-08-14 06:50 (UTC)

[Linhardt registers the grip tightening, and he's at least registering words; he's not really doing anything that isn't just shaking like a leaf and attempting to process everything that happened (the hammering thought in his head "it's all your fault, it's all your fault, it's all your fault" playing over and over again) but he's...trying, if that can even be called that.

Linhardt gotten so used to the idea of killing others if it was necessary. He'd made his peace with that, with the knowledge that he'd be killing others, but that it would be worth it when the empire's dream came into fruition.

He didn't realize that he never mentally prepared himself for the thought of killing his friends.]

...No. It wasn't an accident.

[There are those calm, even words again. Linhardt blinks and his vision unblurs ever so slightly as a tear falls down his cheek.]

Caspar had gotten into the room where I was sleeping. I don't know how he got in, but he had managed it. It was by luck alone that I avoided him driving a lance into me while I slept.

[...]

I tried to talk to him. I tried to convince him to lay down his weapon. To talk to him and try to get him to back down, so this didn't have to come to bloodshed.

It was the first time we had ever fought. I had hoped he would listen to me.

I tripped. I fell backwards onto the floor, and he intended to finish me off then and there. I raised my hands to defend myself, and...

[...Well, he doesn't have to go much further than that, does he? Honestly, he doesn't even clearly remember the situation, and it's...actually kind of terrifying to him, that one second Caspar was there, and then the next, he was peeling off the wall.

The tears are coming down even harder as Linhardt's gaze goes down to his shaking hands, and he's...never felt this lost before in his life.]

locked to darkseal

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject