kenoslogs | open | a merry meri mingle

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open | a merry meri mingle

Who: Meridians new & old!
What: Cookout mingle
Where: Alenroux
When: Mid-March, after Vander's rescue
Warnings: Potentially alcohol consumption and violence, for the rowdy

After the initiation of Springstar's invasion plans for Alenroux, tensions among the Meridian-aligned might be a bit strained. The move comes as a surprise even for many of the shard-bearers within the faction itself, to say nothing of those whose livelihoods depend on the farms here. It's not yet clear what Highstorm's response will be, but one will certainly be coming; when that happens, someone is going to come out on the bottom, and their blood will be at least partially on Meridian's hands.

At times like this, the importance of maintaining morale can't be understated. A call goes out to the newest generation of those harmonized with Meridian's light: it's time to have a party!

PREPARATION:

Those who can are invited to help with the set-up. There are drinks to procure, foodstuffs to acquire and prepare, canopies to erect for shade, entertainments to organize. It's not meant to be a grand affair — the gathering is private, intended to foster camaraderie among the shard-bearers after long days and nights of work — but it will be a comfortable one, with edibles and enjoyments to offer to those taking solace in the company of their fellows.

It takes one of Alenroux's long days to make all the necessary arrangements — and then, late the following morning, after the night's monsters have slunk back into the woods, things are made ready. All that's left is for the guests to arrive.

THE EVENT:

Spring is still in the midst of taking hold over Alenroux, so a tall bonfire at the centre of the gathering place offers a toasty place to linger and chat throughout the day. Hot drinks and a variety of fire-roasted foods are on offer, including an entire deer helpfully supplied and prepared by Liem. Logs and stumps provide simple seating, and nearby canopies provide shade around the tables of food and drink. A little further away, sturdy tents provide more private gathering places for those wishing for a break from the hubbub.

And there will be hubbub. To break the ice between unfamiliar faces, a variety of contests have been set up over the course of the gathering. These range from simple arm-wrestling competitions, to three-legged races, to friendly sparring matches for those so-inclined. Gathered Meris are encouraged to spectate and bet amongst themselves on contest outcomes — and better yet, to volunteer to participate themselves during the next round.

For those who have already had a chance to relax and let off some steam, the gathering is a perfect opportunity to get to know one's fellow sect-mates a little better, and to reaffirm why Meridian called to them in the first place. Those gathered are encouraged to take the chance to tell a few tales about the place they came from, and to share the visions inside their Sunbeam with those from other worlds. A favourite place, a cherished person, an unkept promise, even an old enemy: all could be worth revisiting for a moment with new comrades in arms.

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I see.

[He did not see. With that deadpan delivery, Byleth lowered the heavy crate he'd been hauling about without a single care in his head. With the crate now a table for his soon-to-be masterpiece, Byleth rummaged about in the satchel clipped onto his armoured corset until he pulled out a very rumpled piece of paper. It was one of his wanted posters of the three missing Shard-bearers, and Set may have a glimpse of what lay in his future when Byleth unrumpled it before slapping it down, blank side up, on the crate.]

Allow me to educate you on the characteristics of a borzoi.

[With that, he pulled out the greatest invention he had stumbled across since coming to this land: the biro pen. Armed and equipped, Byleth put pen to rumpled paper, and beneath his hands a borzoi (??) began to form (???). Once finished, he turned the paper around for Set to observe his highly accurate and detailed sketch:]

As you can see, it has a very long snout and small ears. Like your helm. This, of course, increases its cute factor by a magnitude of ten. It also likes to lick things.

[...Byleth paused to peer at Set. Did you like to lick things, Set...]

[ Actually, the art of one of the missing individuals does pique his interest. For a moment, he leans forward on his toes as if to pick up the edge of the parchment and flip it over, only to be forced to watch Byleth draw,

um,

that.

Immediately following a long, weighty moment where he takes in the goofy looking thing, he reaches out to grab Byleth by the cheeks. His eyes peer out from under the edge of his mask, bright and ( comedically ) unamused. The atmosphere crackles with mildly-insulted-yet-easily-riled intensity. Dryly, he questions: ] "Cute factor"?

[ BYLETH, ARE YOU CALLING HIM CUTE? HE IS A MAN. ]

[Byleth was unfazed by the deathgrip on his face and oblivious to the warning signs of impending comical rage. He blinked very slowly at Set, his blank "Wii shop music is playing in my head, voiding any and all thoughts" stare unyielding.]

Yes?

[...oh! Byleth understood what Set wanted.]

Don't worry, you benefit from the inherent cuteness of the borzoi due to your similarities to them. However, you lose points because you lack fur.

[The fluffiness is key.]

So, you'd rank... number twenty-two in the cuteness rating board. The borzoi is number twelve.

[ NUMBER TWENTY-TWO???? UNDER A DOG??? ]

Were you damaged as a child!?

[ It is the only thing that Set can manage, confused and irritated by the absolute buffoonery that spills from Byleth's mouth at any given time. He is concerned(?), perhaps aghast, at the thought that one of his own presumptive allies may be suffering from some degree of handicap. ]

Every time you open your mouth, it is nonsensical! Borzois, cute factors and ratings? The idea that I am in some illicit relationship with Manon — I am married! To my wife!

[ Probably not anymore, but he'd always wanted to marry Nephthys and he's always going to have a hard time letting her go. :C ]

['Is your wife named Manon,' Byleth barely stopped himself from asking. The first question was far more pertinent.]

Yes.

[True, technically. Being stillborn, having a Crest Stone implanted into him to resurrect him, and whatever else Rhea had done to his body as a babe... that did probably come under 'being damaged' and was likely the reason for his various oddities... though, Byleth had no idea what that had to do with Set's place on the Cute Rankings. Was Set dissatisfied with his placement? It was higher than most people were, since the top thirty were mostly animals, so Number Twenty-Two was quite respectable.]

But that's irrelevant information. You're one of three humans in the top thirty of the rankings, so your position isn't something to be disappointed about. There's no need to be upset.

[ Well. That explains everything. Were Set not deeply selective with his sympathies, he might be more apt to take pity on Byleth and attempt to understand him better. Being that he was, in fact, deeply selective with his sympathies meant that he'd carry on — irritably, but with a little bit more knowledge that 'oh, okay, byleth is perhaps not MOCKING him so much as this is just how he is'. ]

Haa?! Watch your mouth, I am not a human!

[ TOP THIRTY?????

He yanks Byleth a little closer, because he has yet to relinquish his hold upon the man's cheeks. ]

You are so irritating. You come to conclusions where you ought to be asking questions to confirm your thoughts, did no one teach you how to communicate?

[ SAYS SET. WHO CANNOT COMMUNICATE EITHER, but is feeling fucking paternal right now in a very weird way ]

[Byleth just stared at him, like this.]

Not really.

[Was this not common knowledge already?! Perhaps Byleth was doing well enough that on first impressions, he came across as socially able! Byleth felt tentatively pleased about this, entirely unbothered about Set clutching his face between his claws. His hands were warm, so it was fine. Also Byleth could just stab him if he tried anything else.]

As a child, learning how to survive was more important than effective communication. You don't need to communicate to sever someone's femoral artery in their groin, after all.

[Then, abruptly, as if the Rube Goldberg machine that was Byleth's brain had just finished processing it and cannonballed it to the very forefront of his mind:]

You're not human?

[ la creatura...... ]

That. Is sensible enough, actually.

[ So, what Byleth is saying is that combat ability > communications. Set's irritation levels out a bit, humming moreso than burning; after all, he is very much the same manner of man: one who values violence over diplomacy, war over peace. Learning the most powerful way to deal with invaders at the borders was more important than trying to talk them into surrender. A swift show of force would always triumph. ]

And no, I am not. I am a god, not a human being. We look nothing alike!

[The hilarious thing was: Byleth had an inherent disdain for killing, being a rather kind-hearted soul, but living a life where everything was out to kill him had helped him compartmentalise away that gentle side in favour of self-preservation. "Survive at all costs", was what Jeralt had told him, and that was an order Byleth will follow until it was impossible. His father would be sad if he was left all alone, after all.

But he said none of that, oblivious as he was to Set's thoughts. Instead, he seemed incredibly intrigued by Set's response. As well as he could with his head held firmly in place, he peered downwards, from Set's tippy toes to the very top of his borzoi mask, lacking any awe one would expect when told their face was being held lovingly (??) by a divine being.]

.........oh. That explains it.

[Explains what, Byleth. Explains what.]

You're like Sothis.

[Ah.]

[ Explains WHAT, Byleth.

At least he answers, in short measure. ]

Sothis? Is this a god of your world, then?

Allegedly.

[Since Sothis had been baffled when she realised that the Goddess the Church of Seiros worshipped was her... and quickly frustrated when Byleth had lacked any answers for her when she had interrogated him. No, he didn't know the scriptures, no, he didn't know how they portrayed the Goddess, no, he didn't know why her daughter was the archbishop of said religion...]

She calls herself 'The Beginning', as she's some form of progenitor. Our souls are tied, so I know her quite well. You both act similarly.

[Haughty. Prideful. Tsundere.]

How can she be an alleged god? Either she is, or she is not. There is a very distinct line that divides a pretender from the true divine.

[ While he understands that many lands have different forms of hierarchical structure, and many different types of god that are revered or forgotten, there is a distinct divide that he believes in: either one is a god, or one is not. Even if, in some world, someone were to aspire to reach divinity, they were not a god until the moment they achieved it, no matter how strong they were.

In Egypt, no gods were born of mortal men. Only the divine beget the divine. ]

Like my grandmother, Ra. She is the first among us, from which all of the Ennead and gods of Egypt descend. How do you mean, 'our souls are tied'? Are you a priest to her? A promised virgin?

...though I'm a virgin, I'm not promised to her. She's the equivalent to my great-grandmother.

[If one were to follow conventional family trees and sort of ignore how the method of procreation from Sothis to Rhea and Rhea to Sitri were... not how humans conceived children, then yes, Byleth was essentially Sothis's descendant.]

In any case, following your definition of 'god', then yes, she's a god. She created the people of Fódlan and the divine beasts, and has a religion devoted to her, though I don't know much about it. Also, our souls are tied as she no longer has an earthly body, so she rests in mine instead.

[While he normally omitted the whole "I have a goddess inside of me" with most people, it was usually because the topic never came up, and because he was aware - even with his poor social skills - that he'd sound utterly insane. Set was a god, however, and was taking the whole thing in stride, so Byleth decided to be blunt and straightforward in turn.

Besides, Byleth knew one of his deep dark secrets, being married to Manon. It was only right he'd give one in exchange.]

You do not need to admit to it, then.

[ Byleth, please. ]

Then, you are a god as well. As I am, as Quetzalcoatl is. To be born from a divine lineage is to be divine, not by standards or definition, but as factual information.

[ Regardless of origin, he believes Byleth. Set is not the kind who mistrusts the way people represent themselves — call it a failure of his typical social position, at the apex of the hierarchy, where even if someone were to lie, he would not be concerned with the consequences. Now, though? He would have to be, yet still he did not expect to be lied to, not about blatantly weird things. Just the little ones, maybe. ]

She is within you, though? Is that the damage you incurred as a child, maybe?

...

[Byleth's expression, as bland as it was, became impossibly shuttered. There was a distinct air that they had boldly leapt into waters turbulent with complicated emotions, and it had Byleth on the defensive backstep.

Because... technically, it was how he had incurred that damage. Yet, there was a lot he didn't know or understand about what had occurred. Jeralt had only been there for the aftermath, and what little Rhea had told him ("Sitri had begged her to give you the Crest Stone, because you were stillborn-") shed little light on what she had actually done. Did Sitri actually offer her heart to Byleth, or had Rhea sensed opportunity? Had Byleth actually been stillborn, or was that the excuse Rhea used to instigate the 'life-saving experiment'? Was Byleth's birth a happy coincidence, or had Rhea banked on his conception happening when Sitri and Jeralt fell in love? Was Byleth's existence solely because Rhea wanted a better vessel for her long-dead mother?

There was a lot. Most of it he had no idea how to process or think about, so he simply didn't. He pushed aside the large chunks he couldn't understand, and offered the small grains of information he did.]

...yes. I was stillborn, and Sothis's heart was given to me to resurrect me. That's why I am... the way I am.

[Strange. Bizarre. Alien. Lacking the ability to emote or understand his emotions in turn. No heartbeat. There were many nights where Byleth would contemplate the ceiling and wonder if he was resurrected or reanimated. Where was the line between those two distinctions?]

[ Here's the thing. Set is stupid, and he is undeniably brilliant at the same time. Insightful, in a way that might border on — dare it be said — supernatural, even though he is not a god graced with the wisdom to comprehend others, nor the ability to discern prophecy from the natural world. The brutish way that he interacts with people and his environment, however, sometimes plunges him into the heart of the matter. The mystery he yearns to unravel, the experience he wishes to have. So, in this moment, he finds the one thing that will rattle Byleth, and it is without truly meaning to.

Once he has it between his teeth, however, he is quick to pursue. A step in, towards that fathomless mind and the questions swimming within Byleth, unwittingly brushing along them — sandpaper along a raw injury. ]

Annoying as you are to me, there is nothing wrong with the way you are.

[ Set, please. ]

You may have the heart of a god, but you are your own person. You could be endangered — or perhaps, gods from your world could be, by this research, too.

[Byleth just stared at him.

It wasn't his dead-eyed stare of an alien mind built in the form of a Rube Goldberg machine. It wasn't his blank stare of incomprehension either. Neither was it his absent stare of wondering, where he concocted outlandish reasons for the behaviour of others. It was an utterly normal stare of mundane surprise, which in and of itself was bizarre on Byleth's face, as he rarely showed such plain shock in such a normal way.]

...oh.

[Delayed, but no less gut-punched out of him. Abruptly, he found Set a little overwhelming in a way that went beyond words - probably not helped that they were still having this conversation while Byleth's face was held captive between Set's hands. The grip wasn't gentle, but neither was it overly harsh, but it kept him in place, his gaze locked onto Set's, while his mind kind of took a backstep, and another one before it sat down, bedazzled that for once, someone who was aware of the freakish oddity that he was just bluntly said "there is nothing wrong with the way you are" and meant every word.

Even Jeralt who loved him thought there was something wrong with him. Even Claude, who accepted him, gave him askance looks, like he wasn't quite sure.]

Set. You're...

[But with the ruthlessness that had kept him alive and sane throughout childhood and into bloody adulthood, expertly stuffed those complicated emotions into a box and kicked it under the figurative bed. Byleth's expression smoothed out into placid blankness once more.]

Your hands are cold.

[ shit byleth, you just got set'd. ]

They are not.

[ Tone scathing, he scowls through sharp teeth and tugs his hand back from where it has been pinching Byleth's jaw between his fingers all that time. His hands are never cold, that is the point of him - he is fever-warm, Discord-burning, sands that have been warmed by the sunlight - not cold. Though, he has been cold to the touch before; in Isis's temple, he recalls being ill, weak. Clammy and chilled, as Horus had tended to him so persistently.

( He does not bring up the sudden vulnerability in Byleth's face to him, but holds the memory in his mind's eye. Honestly, he did not know that the young man was able to wear such an expression. ) ]

You had best go and eat up, before the next round of would-be saboteurs and spies come sneaking in to examine our work. Get.

[When Set released him, Byleth took half a step back for extra measure and turned away to pick up the heavy crate he had been manhandling before Set had snagged his interest. His skin felt feverishly hot where Set's fingers had been wrapped around his jaw.]

It's alright. I can go days before I need to eat.

[And the others were far frailer when it came to calorie intake, he had noticed. Better for Byleth to endure a few days of harmless hunger pangs than potentially lowering the combat effectiveness of his comrades via weakness brought on by hunger. He readjusted his grip on the crate, and gave Set a... not a smile, because they weren't that close yet, but his blank expression was far softer around the edges than they usually were.]

Thank you for your kind consideration, however. It's nice, how you look out for your comrades.

[Set truly is tsundere... outwardly prickly and quick to call you annoying, but also reminding you to eat and telling you how you're not a walking abomination... what a nice person....]

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open | a merry meri mingle

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