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Entry tags:
- !event,
- baroque: koriel xii (dextera),
- bastard!!: dark schneider,
- black butler: sebastian michaelis,
- ennead: set,
- expanse (the): amos burton,
- fire emblem: byleth eisner,
- fire emblem: claude von riegan,
- fire emblem: dimitri a. blaiddyd,
- genshin impact: tartaglia (childe),
- genshin impact: zhongli,
- granblue fantasy: eustace,
- jinba: hayame,
- legend of zelda (the): link,
- made in abyss: bondrewd,
- magnus archives (the): the archivist,
- marvel: gamora,
- oc: liem talbott,
- star wars: cassian andor,
- star wars: jyn erso,
- trigun maximum: vash the stampede
The Seeds of Unrest: the Iconoclast Oracle
RUNNING OUT THE CLOCK
The situation is bleak.
The Blight - and the massive labyrinth of roots tearing both cities asunder, spreading deadly flowers wherever they penetrate - have progressed to a point beyond catastrophe. People are dying in rapid numbers. Bearers are having difficulty keeping up with the spread of infection - even among one another. The collapse of Kenos seems inevitable; a cure will not come in time. You can do nothing but watch as each new day brings further disaster, ticking down the seconds until it all falls apart.
And then, you feel something seize your Shard. As if physical fingers have wrapped around it, as if it is being clutched through you by invisible hands, you feel invaded. You feel wronged. But before you can panic, a voice enters your mind through Communion.
“Excuse the dramatics, but there isn’t much time for pleasantries. The Trees are about to hit the point of no return. But there's still work to be done. The Tree of Life will take you where you can find it: the Oracle and the creature causing all this mess. Fix this when you find them. However you'd like.”
Have you heard Aetos’ voice before? Perhaps it is the first time; perhaps it is familiar to you. Either way, the last thing you will remember is a confusing jumble: a spell of immense and incredible power, one utilizing the Tree’s strength to shelter you. The sensation of every cell in your body coming alive, yet seeming to break apart and render you into billions and billions of tiny pieces, all hovering in different times and places across all the different iterations, timelines, and realities in which you have ever existed. A voice that speaks not through words asking your forgiveness, unspeakably sad.
And then, there is nothing.
The Blight - and the massive labyrinth of roots tearing both cities asunder, spreading deadly flowers wherever they penetrate - have progressed to a point beyond catastrophe. People are dying in rapid numbers. Bearers are having difficulty keeping up with the spread of infection - even among one another. The collapse of Kenos seems inevitable; a cure will not come in time. You can do nothing but watch as each new day brings further disaster, ticking down the seconds until it all falls apart.
And then, you feel something seize your Shard. As if physical fingers have wrapped around it, as if it is being clutched through you by invisible hands, you feel invaded. You feel wronged. But before you can panic, a voice enters your mind through Communion.
“Excuse the dramatics, but there isn’t much time for pleasantries. The Trees are about to hit the point of no return. But there's still work to be done. The Tree of Life will take you where you can find it: the Oracle and the creature causing all this mess. Fix this when you find them. However you'd like.”
Have you heard Aetos’ voice before? Perhaps it is the first time; perhaps it is familiar to you. Either way, the last thing you will remember is a confusing jumble: a spell of immense and incredible power, one utilizing the Tree’s strength to shelter you. The sensation of every cell in your body coming alive, yet seeming to break apart and render you into billions and billions of tiny pieces, all hovering in different times and places across all the different iterations, timelines, and realities in which you have ever existed. A voice that speaks not through words asking your forgiveness, unspeakably sad.
And then, there is nothing.
AWAKENING
Your eyes open, gritty with the feeling of a long, deep slumber.
Perhaps it takes a moment to shake off the heavy veil of exhaustion, to recollect what you were doing before you fell into this state of hibernation - but as soon as you do, you feel an immediate sense of foreboding around you. It is thick in the air, oppressive and pervasive, and you aren’t left long to wonder at its source. You lay beneath the branches of the Tree of Life, but as your bleary eyes focus… you see it. The Tree is all but bereft of life. Its bark has withered down to gnarled wood, the soft lichen dried up, and the grass that should be alive beneath you is long dead and gone. There is not so much as a single leaf on its decaying branches.
It has been this way for a long, long time... you realize this with a feeling of intense dread as you see it - the beautiful expanse of stars, of the cosmos, of universes scattered like starlight above the tree's boughs, gone. In its place hangs a sickly, ominously low-hanging, and dying sun ready to sing the end of everything.
You can't help but wonder how long Kenos has been in this state, but a sense of gratitude fills you as you realize that the Tree expended the last of its energies to protect you, the Bearers, during your state of rest. Had Aetos worked with the tree to see you sent here?
The next question comes quickly: how much time do you have left…? And can you find the Oracle before that time expires?
Perhaps it takes a moment to shake off the heavy veil of exhaustion, to recollect what you were doing before you fell into this state of hibernation - but as soon as you do, you feel an immediate sense of foreboding around you. It is thick in the air, oppressive and pervasive, and you aren’t left long to wonder at its source. You lay beneath the branches of the Tree of Life, but as your bleary eyes focus… you see it. The Tree is all but bereft of life. Its bark has withered down to gnarled wood, the soft lichen dried up, and the grass that should be alive beneath you is long dead and gone. There is not so much as a single leaf on its decaying branches.
It has been this way for a long, long time... you realize this with a feeling of intense dread as you see it - the beautiful expanse of stars, of the cosmos, of universes scattered like starlight above the tree's boughs, gone. In its place hangs a sickly, ominously low-hanging, and dying sun ready to sing the end of everything.
You can't help but wonder how long Kenos has been in this state, but a sense of gratitude fills you as you realize that the Tree expended the last of its energies to protect you, the Bearers, during your state of rest. Had Aetos worked with the tree to see you sent here?
The next question comes quickly: how much time do you have left…? And can you find the Oracle before that time expires?
ABANDON HOPE (DAYS 1 & 2)
The cornerstones are still active and will take you to whichever city you wish to see.
Highstorm and Springstar sit like empty monuments to the cities that were once filled with life - yet the first thing you will notice is they are strangely absent the signs of the Tree’s overgrown roots, the Blight, the catastrophic damage that you can recall all too easily. Instead, each city sits as those they were summarily abandoned overnight, leaving nothing but their shells behind. There is a stillness in the air that is unnatural and unsettling. Despite the lack of any sign of the citizens of either city, you cannot help but feel… watched.
Something terrible happened here. Best you find the Oracle before something terrible finds you, instead.
The burning of a dying sun beats down on you wherever you go, unbearable heat sending waves off the aged cobblestone streets. Perhaps it is your instinct to seek refuge in the shade - but linger too long about the shadows and that feeling of eyes on your back, of being unable to breathe, of your world closing in around you will grow untenable and drive you back into the light. If you hope to explore the ghostly shell of your city in search of the Oracle - or to sate your curiosity, some problem-solving might be in order.
And while you acclimate yourself to your circumstances, you cannot help but note you feel wrong inside, somehow…
Highstorm and Springstar sit like empty monuments to the cities that were once filled with life - yet the first thing you will notice is they are strangely absent the signs of the Tree’s overgrown roots, the Blight, the catastrophic damage that you can recall all too easily. Instead, each city sits as those they were summarily abandoned overnight, leaving nothing but their shells behind. There is a stillness in the air that is unnatural and unsettling. Despite the lack of any sign of the citizens of either city, you cannot help but feel… watched.
Something terrible happened here. Best you find the Oracle before something terrible finds you, instead.
The burning of a dying sun beats down on you wherever you go, unbearable heat sending waves off the aged cobblestone streets. Perhaps it is your instinct to seek refuge in the shade - but linger too long about the shadows and that feeling of eyes on your back, of being unable to breathe, of your world closing in around you will grow untenable and drive you back into the light. If you hope to explore the ghostly shell of your city in search of the Oracle - or to sate your curiosity, some problem-solving might be in order.
And while you acclimate yourself to your circumstances, you cannot help but note you feel wrong inside, somehow…
EXPLORATION
- If your characters choose to explore previously unreachable areas, please use THIS TOPLEVEL to report when they get there in the thread! We will get back to you with what is discoverable in that location.
- The following areas are off limits for exploration: below Yima’s Manor; below the Church of Heliopolis; Alenroux; Kowloon.
- The Great Trees of both Highstorm and Springstar are in a similar state to the Tree of Life and will not respond to Communion.
- Generally speaking, items will be of poor quality. Most will look as though they’ve aged thousands of years. Others will be in half-decent shape, but sparingly so. Oddly enough, it doesn’t seem like the whole city has aged at the same rate, so especially diligent rummagers can find worthwhile supplies. Please consider this should be rare and don’t go overboard!
NOTES
Here are some prompt reminders - see the full thing at the OOC Summary!- Characters will have a diluted connection to the Zenith or Meridian.
- There will be periods powers are weakened or non-functional during days 1-2 (up to player discretion).
- The sunlight results in scorching; the shadows cause claustrophobia and fear while outdoors.
THE RITUAL (DAYS 2+)
The place you started your journey to Kenos is also where it seems it will end. As soon as the first Bearer makes contact with the Iconoclast effigy, you are collectively drawn to the roots beneath the Tree - like a pang sent through your Shard. Your objective has been found. The Oracle awaits.
Trusting Aetos seems like a fool's errand, but you must put your hope in the Tree. What choice do you have left? It's time to find what lies at the end of this.
Bearers descend, your steps echoing in the dark, cavernous space. Once brimming with life and vitality, the roots are now dried and brittle like the bones of some ancient leviathan that died long ago. As you make their way deeper into the earth, the deadened roots twist, leading you to a vast chamber deep within it; the air here is thick with the smell of decay, and the faint glow of luminescent fungi and mosses barely illuminates the space.
To your left, the Bearers will notice what has drawn them here - and the object of their search.
An effigy sits on the ground between two darkened tunnels. The effigy is made of gnarled, dead branches woven together in a humanoid shape; its hollow, empty eyes are sightless, yet you cannot help but feel it is watching your every move. Branded on its forehead is the Iconoclast symbol carved into the rough wood.
Once all Bearers are present, the Ritual will begin. Your means of exit have been sealed off, and you are trapped, slowly deteriorating together…
Trusting Aetos seems like a fool's errand, but you must put your hope in the Tree. What choice do you have left? It's time to find what lies at the end of this.
Bearers descend, your steps echoing in the dark, cavernous space. Once brimming with life and vitality, the roots are now dried and brittle like the bones of some ancient leviathan that died long ago. As you make their way deeper into the earth, the deadened roots twist, leading you to a vast chamber deep within it; the air here is thick with the smell of decay, and the faint glow of luminescent fungi and mosses barely illuminates the space.
To your left, the Bearers will notice what has drawn them here - and the object of their search.
An effigy sits on the ground between two darkened tunnels. The effigy is made of gnarled, dead branches woven together in a humanoid shape; its hollow, empty eyes are sightless, yet you cannot help but feel it is watching your every move. Branded on its forehead is the Iconoclast symbol carved into the rough wood.
Once all Bearers are present, the Ritual will begin. Your means of exit have been sealed off, and you are trapped, slowly deteriorating together…
NOTES
- Bearers will have access to the Ritual Chamber which is a very wide, open space with the effigy situated against the far wall from the entrance. Several smaller tunnels off-shoot from the Ritual Chamber. They all run to dead ends; some are very small or narrow. This may afford you meager privacy away from the group.
- Once a Bearer steps into the Chamber, they can no longer head back out the way they came. They’ll find themselves automatically walking back into the Chamber as if of their own volition.
- For brevity’s sake we won’t list them out again here, but the complete description of effects Bearers will experience days 2+ is available in the OOC Summary.
- The effigy is impervious to damage.
- It Is Watching You.
- In a dead-end root tunnel attached to the Iconoclast’s Chamber is the Blighted statue of an Otter that may be familiar to some… Please see THIS TOPLEVEL for more information!
THE PURGE (DAYS 5+)
The sap has festered in your veins for what feels like days. It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed; this place has no sunlight. The effigy watches as you remain trapped, huddled together around it, unable to leave as you find yourself sick with the affliction of the Meridian, Zenith - or both.
And then… something finally gives.
Though it does not move and speaks no words, you feel the effigy offering you guidance. Knowledge. Much like the Tree speaks to you in impressions and feelings, you are conveyed wisdom you did not have before: a way to take what you want and rid yourself of what you do not. A way to make your convictions known to all who would hear them. A way to be known. To write your path in blood, be it yours… or theirs.
When all is said and done, only one force - Zenith or Meridian - will gain its favor.
Show it who you are. Show it what resolve looks like to you - and what you are willing to do to attain it.
And then… something finally gives.
Though it does not move and speaks no words, you feel the effigy offering you guidance. Knowledge. Much like the Tree speaks to you in impressions and feelings, you are conveyed wisdom you did not have before: a way to take what you want and rid yourself of what you do not. A way to make your convictions known to all who would hear them. A way to be known. To write your path in blood, be it yours… or theirs.
When all is said and done, only one force - Zenith or Meridian - will gain its favor.
Show it who you are. Show it what resolve looks like to you - and what you are willing to do to attain it.
NOTES
Here are some prompt reminders - see the full thing at the OOC Summary!- You can Purge your alignment through various methods: Trading, Corrupting, or using the Effigy itself.
- All characters will understand the end goal is for everyone to Harmonize; the alignment with the higher rate of Harmonized Bearers alive when time’s up wins the Oracle’s favor.
NOTES
- A reminder that the Harmonization tally will take place on Friday, the 19th and be open through Monday, the 29th. The results will be released on Wednesday, the 31st OOCly.
- Don’t forget to submit any deaths to the Death Tracker, with a gentle reminder characters will remain dead until the event conclusion!
- Reminder to fill out the SETTING POLL ASAP if you haven't already!
- Have some MUSIC if you'd like. LYRICS here!
- HAVE FUN!!
no subject
[Byleth mulled over his next words, unsure on how to properly phrase it. He wasn't the best with social etiquette, this was true, but he prided himself on his keen observation - you didn't need to know the ins and outs of the unspoken rules of social interaction to decipher if someone was an immediate threat, a slow-burning threat, or trustworthy enough that they won't stab you in the back the second you show your flank. The only time Byleth had ever misjudged someone had been with Shez, but even that had been... an outlier.
And while Claude was an enigma to him, Byleth felt like he had him pegged pretty well too. It was a contradictory claim, but he felt the need to both explain his actions and maybe commiserate with Hayame.]
I think he believes he's genuine when he claims friendship. I don't sense any deceit from him on that front. But he's too afraid to properly meet you halfway, so the friendship feels a little too one-sided at times. He wants to know everything about you and your troubles, but will never share any of his own. I don't think he realises that this makes it difficult to fully trust him and his intentions.
[Or perhaps Claude did, and continued to be a squirrelly little bastard anyway. Byleth stood by his blunt assessment either way - actually, it was kind of nice to get this off his chest, because it had been frustrating him, yet he never had an outlet to state it to anyone who knew Claude like him. There was Dimitri, of course, but... he might tell Claude what he told him, and also:]
He's a noble, so obviously he'll convolute everything unnecessarily. It's what they do. And... pondering it, being a noble actually explains why he may've been offensively neutral regarding Vern...
no subject
Then that is not a friendship.
[She pretends, likewise, that she understands what it is to be a friend- something she has never had and never pursued. The closest Hayame had ever known was hearing the occasional ballad or epic tale of warriors who were brothers in arms, because there was no room for weaknesses such as that in the breeding stable she had been raised in, but in the stories... they were equal, were they not? "Friends".
And it was true that despite how much he'd seemed to try and know about her... No, there had been that moment in the stables when he had hinted at something, but beyond that... he was all smiles and jokes, not what she would call honesty. (Not that she could talk... but she wasn't the one trying to claim people as friends.)
What he reveals so casually, though...]
- a noble.
[She repeats it to herself disdainfully, her lips pursing thin. She knew what nobles were like. The men who showed up for Exhibition and Auction Day, lounging as others hurried around to tend to their every whim, simpering and subservient. The ones who used the Armless behind the stables to "sample" what they might purchase. The ones who leered and ran their hands over her body to inspect her teeth, her hooves, her accursed womanhood.
It explained his silver tongue, but-]
Of course he is a noble.
[Her thin lips curl into a sneer, her poor opinion of such people (the people she had been raised all her life to eventually serve) grown obvious.]
Something he conveniently forgot to mention. But perhaps you are right. Men of such means do so enjoy each other's company.
[And she is offended enough by his silence to spitefully entertain the belief that such a bond might mean that Claude felt some sort of kinship with the foul elf she now called Vern.]
no subject
If he didn't truly know Claude, or understand him or even felt connected to him beyond the superficial...
Byleth wasn't sure, and he didn't know how to ask Claude without potentially offending him. The simple fact was as much as their relationship frustrated him, he didn't want to lose it either. This closest thing he had to 'friendship' here in Kenos, even at the edge of existence where their lifespans were probably measured in days at most, he didn't want to say or do the wrong thing and lose it. Byleth was fearless in battle, but in matters of the heart, he was fragile.
So, he let that topic slide by the wayside, fixating instead on the disdain that spread across Hayame's expression at the word 'noble'. Byleth understood. Nobles were a diverse breed, and many of them venomous. Even with the buffer of Jeralt who mostly handled their job acquisition, Byleth understood that many nobles were selfish and backstabbing, high on their superiority due to bloodlines and Crests. They were, in Jeralt's ever wise words: self-cannibalising weasels. It drew a strong mental image - and a strong emotional response.
But Claude wasn't just a noble, and he wasn't selfish or greedy like most of them. He moved to try and clear up the potential misunderstanding he may've caused.]
I don't think Claude harbours any empathy or kinship with Vern. I meant it more that... considering his position as the leader of Leicester - a nation in Fódlan - he's used to managing conflict within his ranks using diplomacy. Unlike kings or emperors, his rule is far more susceptible to the currents amongst the other nobility. He has to make concessions to keep otherwise odious allies on his side, rather than against him. I believe that was his intention with Vern... he's part of Meridian, and thus likely felt he cannot be harshly reprimanded in case this caused damaging conflict within the faction as a whole.
[Byleth ducked his head slightly.]
...however, this is just a theory. I am a simple mercenary, so I can't claim full knowledge on how the courts of the ruling elite function. It, of course, doesn't excuse Claude's... behaviour in certain aspects, but it may explain things.
no subject
Her distaste for them is strong. The things she had long overlooked and born as her lot in life have become things she actually has the freedom to express distaste over. And Claude-
- Was what now? Hayame does a double take when she registers that Byleth had just implied (er, said) that Claude wasn't just a noble, but the leader of a nation? Was she hearing things? She must be. What leader of that caliber would not proudly proclaim it? Especially since Claude had been involved in more than one debate in which claiming such lineage or rank would have lent weight and experience to his position. So-]
No, it does not excuse it.
[That's the bottom line. That's what matters to her.]
At least you realize the limits of a mercenary's knowledge.
[The line is not spiteful, but it is sharp, even though, in her own way, it is almost supposed to be praise. She appreciates people who understand their capabilities. And she doesn't want to listen to Byleth defend Claude much more than she wants to listen to half her so-called allies defend Voryn Dagoth. Still... she had engaged him to thank him, and so she belatedly attempts to... soften it.]
I assume you are a good one?
[... That'll do it.]
no subject
[Byleth obligingly let the topic of 'Claude' drop, understanding Hayame's lack of will to discuss it further. Honestly, he wasn't in the mood to continue gossiping about his... possible friend either. He felt curiously guilty about it, like he was doing something bad. Was it allowed to whisper behind a friend's back? Byleth wasn't sure.]
If you mean by skill and success rate, then yes, I am 'good'. I've rarely been defeated in battle, and I fulfil my contractual obligations to the letter. I don't disobey my orders.
['To a fault,' Jeralt would sigh. 'Kid, sometimes you gotta be imaginative with your mission objectives.' But Byleth never fully understood what his father meant with this. Jeralt was the one who decided what their mission truly was anyway, so Byleth didn't really think too deeply about it... something which was biting him now, since he was on his own in a strange, incomprehensible world...
Well, it's going to end soon anyway, an increasingly pessimistic side of him said, so it's not like it's going to be an issue to care about in the near future.]
But I'm also widely feared by my peers. While this can be an advantage, it gets tiresome when most would rather flee than engage with me. Most assume things of me that aren't true, as my reputation paints me as something monstrous. From that perspective, that doesn't make me 'good'.
[And it was lonely too, but he wasn't so far gone that he would admit that to a near stranger.]
no subject
(Everything else...)]
What else could I mean for the measure of a mercenary?
[Skill and success rate, obedience... that was simply what one measured both mercenaries and warriors by. Though she viewed mercenaries as inherently lesser for their lack of honor in favor of coin, unlike the fantasy of serving a lord she had imagined for herself... there was no denying that the similarity was there.
He says he had been feared... but Hayame, someone who had never possessed her own power, who had never been free and could only dream of it... couldn't see the power that came with fear as anything but "good". Life was lonely. For someone like her, unable to reach out, it would surely always be lonely, so why not be feared as well? He speaks of reputation, and-]
You are incredibly strong for a human.
[She'd learned that in Alenroux. She'd acknowledge it.]
But that is a good thing.
[Because to not be strong was to be nothing.]
no subject
[That was the fine balance he had needed to walk - to become powerful enough that job security was never an issue, but not so strong that they were deemed as a threat needing to be exterminated - or worse, to draw the eye of the Church. Rhea was someone to be avoided at all costs, and even allying with the Kingdom Forces had been cutting it too fine for Jeralt. Byleth had to do the equivalent of diving into bushes whenever he saw Church uniforms at the encampment...]
Or be dehumanised...
[Ashen Demon, he was called. Coldhearted, unfeeling, monstrous. He had never understood the accusations. He struggled to express himself, but there was nothing unfeeling about him. But perhaps, he wondered, perhaps some animal instinct in them realised there was something wrong with him, that understood he was not like them. Humans would be prey to the likes of Sothis - they could probably sense it in him too, however subconsciously.]
Not that I was very human to begin with. As I told you in Alenroux, I'm only half-human at most.
no subject
Then she has no particular desire to address it.
But he brings up again that he is not fully human, no matter how human he happens to look, and Hayame fixes him with a long, silent look. In Alenroux she had not asked him what he was, because she assumed that if he wanted her to know what the other half is then he would have announced it. This time, though-]
I thought there were only humans in your world.
[Of living beings that could be counted as "people", anyway. ... She knows about wyverns now.]
no subject
[He paused fractionally, a hint of uncertainty tinging his expression. He remembered when Sothis had finally sat him down and explained things beyond what crumbs Jeralt had fed him - once her simmering rage and confusion had settled into something that was less likely to scorch him.
Sothis had terrified him initially: this ancient, furious being, rousing from the depths of him and tearing his body from his control like he was nothing more than an afterthought. She had... not-apologised for that, once the crimson had faded from her vision, and while he had come to rely on her for guidance and comfort, that sliver of fear remained. First impressions were difficult to shake.
But she told him. She told him the truth of the world, the other half of his origins, and why she despised humanity so, no matter how many times Byleth had told her that not all of them deserved her contempt. She had been betrayed too many times, her open hand slapped away. Even he understood her disdainful apathy.]
In my world, there exist two races: humans and Nabateans. The Nabateans are also called 'Divine Beasts', and only assumed humanoid forms to better walk amongst humanity. Their true forms tend to be... large and bestial, which humans found frightening.
["You would have thought I was there to eat them, not aid them," Sothis grouched irritably, while Byleth felt very sorry for the early humans Sothis had encountered.]
The Nabateans also had unique abilities that humans didn't have, such as extreme longevity or access to Crests, a power that is passed on through their bloodlines and Crest Stones. Apparently, humans coveted these powers, and...
[There was no way to slice it, what was done was inexcusable, actually downright evil. It was only a theory from Sothis's side, but the few details Jeralt had let slip - "the dark truth behind this world" his father had sighed tiredly - and the false scriptures had only confirmed it. Why the few Nabateans left could be counted on one hand, why those Hero Relics possessed the bones and hearts of Sothis's children...]
There are barely any Nabateans left. The majority of them were slaughtered by humans, to steal their Crests and craft their corpses into weapons called Hero Relics. The modern day humans are unaware of this history, though. And I'm...
[A pause.]
I'm of Nabatean blood.
[It was the first time he had ever said this so frankly, or even admitted it aloud instead of the more vague "I'm not fully human". He had Nabatean blood - Sothis had confirmed this. He wouldn't have synchronised so effectively with her Crest Stone if he hadn't. But what did this mean? He didn't feel the same fury Sothis did towards humans, because he grew up amongst them. He loved his human father, and the few human allies he had had done no wrong.
But at the same time, he was distinctly not human. He was strange by their standards. Weird. Not truly one of them. He was stuck in a halfway spot, but there was nothing to be done about it.]
This grants me the same advantages most Nabateans have in terms of strength and endurance, but... it's not something I would tell a human from Fódlan. For... obvious reasons.
cws: sa, slavery, forced amputations
Hayame listens quietly throughout his speech. Despite how guarded her expression is, though... there is no denying that the look in her remaining eye grows darker the more he says. Jinba didn't live any longer than humans- in fact, their lifespans were slightly shorter. But the difference in power... that was undeniable. The fact that humans, the more numerous race, had coveted that power...
Most hunts came up empty-handed these days- the number of free jinba was decimated by now. Humans might not use their corpses for weaponry, but they fed upon the meat as if they were no different from cattle. The only true difference... was that humans preferred their jinba live. Broken, armless, enslaved shells of their true selves (or ones like her, raised by hand to think they were better, that loyalty and obedience could earn the path to freedom)... but alive, and usable for battle, breeding, riding, or fucking.
- But what does she say? Empathy is not one of her skills, nor is communication in general, a consequence of being raised in an environment where human masters preferred not to hear anything from her but "yes", "I apologize", or "I will see it done". Sharing information about herself is not a particular skill of hers either. The silence stretches too long to not grow awkward before finally,]
Obvious reasons, yes.
[Lamely, she repeats his own words as her agreement.]
If you require it, I will hold my tongue around your compatriots.
[Claude she knows best (whatever "best" was when she hadn't even known he was a-), but she is passingly familiar with the blonde man as well. If they did not know...]
no subject
He never knew how to feel, acknowledging his origins and the fact that he likely numbered the very last of a lost people, as muddied as his blood was. A part of him felt that it changed exactly nothing: as far as most were aware, he was just a freakishly strong and very weird human, granted the title of 'demon' for his prowess on the battlefield. The term 'Nabatean' wasn't even known anymore, replaced with 'Divine Beast' and elevated into religious tales and superstition. He had no solid connection to the Nabateans outside of his blood and surrogate heart, so cultivating an emotional attachment to that identity was pointless.
But a part of him still wished... he wanted to ask questions. He wanted to know if other Nabateans lacked a heartbeat too. He wanted to know if magic came to them as easily as breathing too. He wanted to know the secrets of unlocking their divine forms to see if he could take wing amongst the sky. He wanted to know if he was weird by their standards, or if they, like him, also struggled with human expressions and human emotions. He wanted to know if he would've belonged better with them.
These were foolish wonderings, he knew. Pointless to ruminate on. Sothis had told him as such when he'd mustered the courage to ask, her bitterness making her tongue as sharp as any blade. With that door firmly shut on him, he had to content himself with only just achieving 'passably human', folding up these unanswered questions and taking them with him to his grave.
As for Claude and Dimitri... they already knew his debatable humanity, but what was the point in discussing this with them? They wouldn't understand his feelings on the matter. So, after a silence that was equally as long and awkward as the one Hayame had drawn between them, Byleth simply said:]
I'd like that, thank you. I know they'll not mind the truth of my origins, but... it's not a discussion I want.
[And, while they were on this topic, and while his thoughts were turned towards the existential curiosity of one's near-extinct race...]
I'm sorry if you've mentioned it before and I've forgotten but... what's your race called?
no subject
But something like a sense of sameness, somehow. She had always locked such useless thinking away, knowing nothing good came of curiosity in a breeding stable mare, but once she had become a captive in that hidden village in the mountains, surrounding by free members of her kind (even if they were mostly children and infants)... Had she not begun to wonder what it was like? The life of a jinba born into the field or the forest. What it was like to be raised by jinba parents who desired you as a daughter, and not by human grooms investing in your future sale price? Would she have learned the same things Matsukaze had from his father, who learned from his father, who learned from his father? Could she have grown to worship the Great Mountain as they did?
... It was pointless to consider now. She would never know, because even if she could return to her world... she would die within a day.]
I understand.
[She certainly has plenty of things she'd rather not discuss.
But she would remember the word "Nabatean". As a courtesy. And she would discuss herself just enough to answer,]
... I am a jinba.
[It feels almost wrong to say "we are".]
no subject
[Byleth repeated the word slowly. It was a foreign word to him, but still, he ensured to memorise the exact pronunciation. Jinba. Not 'centaur' as Fodlan tales would've called her. He didn't bother raising this pointless bit of trivia, though - she had already told him the correct name for her people.]
Thank you. [He exhaled quietly - not quite a laugh. It was too wry a noise.] For indulging me and listening. I'll be sure not to forget your name or race for as long as time permits.
[He usually had an excellent memory, but tended to be a little sketchier with names - no point remembering them in general when most of his interactions with others tended to be fleeting, either due to travel or because they were on the business end of his sword. Meridian, as well, he only exerted effort in learning the names of those who were of interest in some way... and Hayame was now securely in that camp, shuffled from the clinical label of "ally by necessity" to simply: "ally".]
no subject
Likewise.
[She did not say "thank you" easily, that was likely already evident. But she implies it, with a little bow of her head that sends the long waves of dark hair in her high tail pooling over her shoulder with a dry rustle from the vines now coursing through the strands.
There is more she could say. There is more, perhaps, that someone kinder or softer than her would say.
But Hayame has done what she meant to accomplish. Before the sense of understanding between them can risk becoming something foul or wrong, like so many of her attempts ended up...]
- Take care not to let Zenith affect you until we can finish this.
[That is all she says before she finishes passing him in the dirt tunnel and disappears back into the dark.]