middaeg | [Closed] To sleep: perchance to dream

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[Closed] To sleep: perchance to dream

Who: Sylvain and Those planned with (contact me if you'd like a memory!)
When: During the April dream event
Where: The Hall of Mirrors, various memories
What: Memshare memshare memshare
Warnings: Depictions of child abuse and attempted child murder, self-loathing, suicidal ideation, trauma related to the events of war, and allusions to csa. More warnings will be added if necessary, but please mind the warnings on thread toplevels!

[Tonight, the hall of mirrors looks uncharacteristically... alive. Gone are the dusty, simple frames, gone are the clouded glass surfaces, most now appearing bright, shining, alluring, perhaps.

And perhaps one mirror in particular draws your attention. The frame is black lacquer, with the occasional detail in bright, striking red. Unfamiliar individuals will see a banner, emblazoned with a peculiar crest, hanging from the protruding spikes of a pair of crossed lances on the top of the mirror. More familiar individuals will notice that the lances are held in the jaws of a lion and a beast (top), which are also holding the sides of the mirror itself in their claws. Those especially close to him - friends and bonded alike - will notice that the frame has a pattern like rough-hewn stone, with the odd streak of red, resembling a hand dragging blood downwards, and the base of the mirror is a couple, laid out mid-coitus. The male figure looks bored and uninterested at best.

To anyone, the mirror itself looks to be clouded, but in the way that a window will cloud with frost on a particularly cold day, and should it be touched, it will feel as cold - or colder - than it looks.

Perhaps notably - the owner of the mirror is not present to guard it from touch.]

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[ this mirror is no doubt sylvain's, judging by the lances and the lions on its frame. lance already feels like he shouldn't look inside. he shouldn't peek despite his curiosity -- this is sylvain's mind and it should only be his and nobody else's. yet, something...something calls him and pulls him in. he steps inside, and immediately regrets his decision.

he's already frantically trying to avoid attacks that will never hit him -- soldiers running his way run right through him even as he braces himself for impact. he's aware this is a memory, but he can't help himself. suddenly, there's a loud neigh beside him, and he turns to see sylvain himself plunging his weapon into an enemy soldier. it's bloody. it's...

it's war. that's what this is. this is what sylvain was talking about. this is his past and the world he came from before showing up in aefenglom.

then, he hears sylvain's voice again to his other side. lance lets out a surprised gasp as he turns to face the friend he knows now, and his eyes are wide with terror. ]

[This is war. Chaotic and messy and steeped in blood, but without it... then what? Were they to kneel and submit to conquer? Unlikely. Impossible. He hadn't given the Empire hell for five long, grueling years to give up now.

The memory-Sylvain carries on without so much as a pause as the enemy soldiers are engulfed in magefire, dying quickly. He knows it's surely an awful way to go, but... spells burn hotter than conventional flame, kill quicker, and one can't spare a thought for the enemy, when it's kill or be killed.

The Sylvain of now doesn't give the scene a second thought either. He's seen it, after all. He remembers it. But it's war. He's seen the same scene on battlefield after battlefield already, and the sentiment held in the location isn't enough to make him pause now. Especially not with a terrified Lance standing in front of him.]

Hey, it's... alright. I'm here.

[But he also knows what's coming. He knows it's something Lance shouldn't see, but... how can he stop him, when their own advance is quick and ruthless, headed by a Dimitri that Lance surely wouldn't recognize - older, larger, feral, tearing through enemy troops with lance and by hand, crushing heads and tearing out throats. Gruesome, but efficient in his singular goal of reaching Edelgard as quickly as possible, little more than a bright red spot on the other side of the field, for now.]

[ terrified is...almost an understatement for what lance feels right now. he's part of a war. he understands, somewhat, the meaning of sacrifice and needing to do what has to be done to protect those who need it. but seeing it like this? bloody and brutal -- especially when the one with the blonde hair starts tearing and ripping people apart with his bare hands -- at least sylvain let those in his magefire go quickly.

god. it's so much.

lance has to look away, eyes squeezing shut when the man tears his way through enemy troops. he can't watch this. it's too much.

he looks over at sylvain. ]

This...is where you came from?

[Sylvain might be used to all this, but he still wouldn't wish it on anyone. Lance is... about the age many of his classmates were the first time they found themselves in a real battle, sure, but that was against bandits. It still involved a lot of death in close quarters, but... it wasn't this. It wasn't three large armies of highly trained soldiers fighting and dying in the mud.

One, two, three arrows zip by. One, two, three enemy soldiers fall into the mud, never to get up again. A crackle of lightning and a scream from a heavily armored unit marks a Thoron spell finding its mark.

And a large ballista bolt punctures clean through the chest of a soldier wearing Faerghus blues.

And Sylvain wraps an arm around Lance's shoulders, pulling him close against his chest, so he can avoid watching more easily. So he has someone solid, reassuring, to hold on to.]

It is. Felix was brought to Aefenglom right after this battle. I'm... from... a few months later, but this is how wars are fought in Fodlan, Lance.

[No space battles or guns or range further than a longbow, unless you're allied with Those Who Slither In The Dark.]

[ space battles were hard enough. being thrown into a war he never asked to be a part of was a lot, too. but he couldn't have imagined what war must have been like during a time like this. to hear so many screams, so many cries of agony...

he wants to get out. of course he wants to learn more about sylvain but -- not like this. he can't handle this, and he almost feels like he should be able to because who knows what's going to happen in the future once he gets back home, right?

he doesn't have much time to linger on that thought, though, because suddenly an arm wraps around him and sylvain's chest. normally, lance would pull away and insist he's fine. in a place like this, though, he's clearly not fine at all. he doesn't really think about it too hard -- sylvain's a warm, steady presence through all the chaos. he needs this. even if all he can do is put his hands over his ears to try and drown out the screaming. ]

[By now, after so long, Sylvain has grown used to it. That's war. That's life. Kill or be killed. Fight like you want to die, like you have nothing to lose. It's got him through so far.

It's gotten him berated time and again, for taking blows that were intended for friends. He'd take every last one again in a heartbeat, just like he'd do anything to shield Lance from all this better than he is able to already.

Especially when Edelgard's voice rings out clearly over the battlefield.

"Those fools who went up the hill will pay with their lives... in the crimson flames!"

And the wooden battlement on the hilltop bursts into flame a moment after she gives the order. The army of Faerghus had gotten too close, and she intended to keep control of the ballista at the top... by any means necessary.

Any means necessary - as evidenced by a surely-familiar voice following immediately after the sudden influx of heat and light. That's Bernadetta's scream. That's her manning the ballista, her skill and sharp aim that made approaching to take it a necessity.

If the Adrestian forces couldn't keep it, then neither the Kingdom, nor the Alliance could have it, either.]

[ there's something about the way that scream sounds and hits him that makes him want to turn around. it's the sound of someone being burnt alive, and there's something that makes him just take one peek --

and immediately, he regrets looking. he wasn't ready to see one of his dearest friends being met with a gruesome, horrifying death. he'd only peeked for a moment, and as soon as he'd recognized what was happening he turned away again, forehead touching sylvain's chest as he ducks and shakes his head. his eyes are wet with tears. he wasn't ready for this. ]

Get me out of here!

Working on it.

[There has to be a way out of this, without waiting for the memory to finish... right? Even if there isn't, Sylvain does shift to scoop Lance up so he doesn't have to do anything other than focus on... well, not focusing on anything.

"Ingrid!"

Sylvain's voice again - the him from the memory, shouting into the sky, because someone - anyone - needs to put Bernadetta out of her agony. They needed to stop the ballista anyway. Unfortunately, this is enough to make it safe enough for a pegasus to glide in and out without being shot down. Quick. Easy. Comparatively painless.

"I'll end this quickly!"

And, true to form - she does. One strike and it's over, and not a singe on the pegasus's hair or feathers.

"Wish I could've at least died at home... not in this big, stupid field..."

It would seem that that is what the mirror deemed appropriate for Lance to see. Already, the memory is fading away, but not before Dimitri reaches Edelgard, not before their exchange can echo across the space, and draw the attention of most people present. Their King. Their Emperor.

"Stab your chest, break your neck, smash your head... I will allow you to choose your own death."

"I'm not interested in methods of dying. All that matters is when death takes place, not how. And I have no intention of dying today."

"I'm sure all of the people you've slaughtered so far thought the same!"

There. The exit mirror shimmers back into view as Ashe shoots down a heavily armored soldier that was blocking the sight of it, and Sylvain is quick to both get them over to it - and through it - before the memory can fade out and fade in to something else. Perhaps something worse.

The silence in the hall of mirrors is nearly deafening, after the chaos.]

...Lance? We're out.

[ he'd protest about being lifted up, but at this point, he doesn't care. he just wants to get off of this battlefield and somewhere safe. he can't look as ingrid deals the finishing blow -- he should be grateful that they spared bernie from burning to death, probably -- but it's too much to bear. hearing this, and then the conversation that follows after with that woman... lance just wants out.

and sylvain gets them out indeed. it's quiet all of a sudden, the only thing breaking the silence being sylvain's voice. lance plants his feet on the ground. his breaths are audibly shaky as he tries to fight back tears. ]

...Why -- Bernie, she --

[ he needs a moment. sorry, sylvain. ]

[Yeah. He gets it. He knew this would be hard for Lance to see, but... he'd seen it, and there was nothing else he could do, past being there for him, keeping his hands on his shoulders when Lance sets his feet back on the ground, making sure he stays steady and has someone to cry on, if he can't successfully fight the tears back.]

In my timeline of events... she never joined the Blue Lions.

[And... that's really all there was to it. She'd stayed with Edelgard, she'd been dragged into the war, and she'd died on her orders.

That's war.

That's an awful thing to see, for a friend.]

[ he appreciates it. he can't vocalize it right now, but he appreciates present sylvain being here for him. he wipes at his eyes, shoulders shaking. this is what sylvain meant when he said that he and bernie were on opposite sides, and...

...you know, even though he's crying, there's something that grabs his attention. lance blinks his eyes open and looks at sylvain. he never thought that it'd feel so nice to be in a house of creepy mirrors again. ]

Your...timeline?

[ alternate realities, weewoo. ]

[He'll be there for as long as he needs him to be - and... he'll even provide a diversion, in the form of talking about alternate realities, if necessary. He doesn't know many details, but... there's enough that he's learned since coming here that it's more than a little unsettling to think about.

Mostly about the alternate-hims that left Dimitri's side. At least the him in Petra's memory stayed.]

Mhm... Since getting here, I've... found out that our world's... history... varies, depending entirely on which of the three houses our professor decided to teach when they first came to the monastery. Some people apparently even switched houses so they could be taught by him... or her. It's... not pleasant to think about, honestly.

[Weewoo weewoo]

[ ... ]

Okay, I'm gonna have to calm down before I can wrap my head around this.

[ listen. he's tired from all the crying, and he's still trying to stop his sniffles. he gets the gist of it, but wow, uh. alternate realities. he's not surprised they're a thing...and he'd have a better reaction to this if it weren't for everything that happened earlier.

he will take that moment to calm down though. and once he does, he looks up at sylvain tiredly. ]

...Bernie didn't deserve what happened to her.

Yeah it's...

[It's a lot. He can still barely wrap his head around it himself, but... it matters less, here, and that's the important part. Bernie is alive. Lorenz is alive. Dimitri is... young, and, yes, has already been through so much, but... not as much as he could have been.

But once Lance looks up at him, he sighs softly and ruffles his hair, just a bit. It's okay. It's... okay.]

She didn't.

[ he's a little surprised at the hair ruffle, but he doesn't quite show it because he's tired from all the crying. his head hurts, and he's still shaken up from what he'd seen. the gesture, though, does visibly get him to relax more.

he lets out a deep sigh. ]

Well...she's here now. All we can do is make sure she'll be okay, regardless of what version of her this might be.

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[Closed] To sleep: perchance to dream

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