I've no plans with anyone else tonight, not to worry. Your ears are safe.
[ certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd done it, if only because there are certain habits that are safe and easy and comforting, even if he's not the type to stay the next day, or ask them to stay. sylvain has needs, perhaps some people would call them faults, but he has them nonetheless.
he hands him the bottle of wine. it's not the best, given the circumstances, but it's what he's got and he's not about to complain when some of their men are literally sleeping in the dirt. gone are the days when he can rely on certain comforts for a lot of things. edelgard's project means that his name, and the presence of his crest, will long fall to unpopularity and obscurity with her might. ]
Thank you for thinking of me. But it wouldn't be the first time. [ he has, however, yet to drag his darling face right thru the mud and for that, he is grateful for his own luck. ] That being said, now that we have their favour, it's time to start looking sharp again, isn't it.
[felix accepts the bottle and takes a swig. he makes a face.]
This is awful.
[But he takes another sizeable sip anyway before he hands it back.]
I don't care if it would be the hundredth time. If we get ambushed and you're too hungover to defend yourself, I'm not stepping in to save your hide.
[that's a lie, and sylvain probably knows it. but it makes his point, he thinks.
then he scoffs.]
I couldn't care less about what they think of me. I don't need or want their approval. Praising us for being willing to--...do our jobs, it's such hypocritical bunk. Empty words. I'm not changing a thing.
[ at least not now. sylvain takes the bottle of wine from him and sighs as he takes a sip and sets it down. he can't drink himself out of his mind if felix is here preaching responsibility. he'd feel guilty otherwise, in a day, a month, an entire year, half a decade of balancing guilt with responsibility. ]
... our jobs. Well, I don't know if we're good at it or bad at it.
It was awful. Dedue - [ and that's as far as he goes; sylvain is quiet again, thinking of miklan, thinking of so many things not wanting to be said, and he drinks instead. ]
[it's an empty jab, lacking real venom. he watches sylvain put down the bottle and wonders how long that will last.]
We're good enough to get it done. That's all that matters.
[ah. not long, apparently.]
...I know.
[felix is thinking of miklan, too, and of the desperation he used to feel years ago, when he tried to goad dedue into opening his eyes and seeing what he was enabling. felix finds that being right is almost never actually satisfying. especially when everyone he could say 'i told you so' to is dead.
and he's thinking about dimitri. because apparently, no matter what he does or who he cuts down, he can never stop thinking about dimitri.
he huffs a sharp chuckle with no mirth in it and motions for sylvain to give him the bottle back again when he's done with it.]
I suppose we've finally become the haunted ones. How pathetic.
It's not selfish, Sylvain. Selfish would have been to bury our heads in the sand and pretend everything was fine. Pretend Dimitri was still in there somewhere.
[he has to force the name out without hesitating, but he refuses to wallow over it. the sooner they get used to talking about the...the dead, the sooner it will become just another topic of conversation.
(Sure, because Glenn ever became just another topic of conversation. Whatever.)]
He wasn't. And he couldn't be trusted to rule. Especially not with Rhea pulling the strings. There would have been no point in continuing to torture ourselves for an unworthy cause.
[he says it like he firmly believes it 100%, but his eyes say he's convincing himself as much as he's trying to convince Sylvain, and so do his actions when he takes the bottle back again and sips generously.]
Mm. ...I never thought it would be the boar haunting me. Or my old man. Or Ingrid. I used to tell Dimitri over and over that the dead don't haunt anyone. They're gone. There's no one left to care. But perhaps I was a fool, even if I was right. The dead don't haunt us, but it seems we let our memories do it in their stead.
[felix doesn't want that. doesn't want regrets. doesn't want the past to dog his steps any more than it's already done for half his life. if there were a way to just forget the last ten years, he thinks he would take it. he raises his head to glance at Sylvain.]
Faerghus was choked with them. Memories. This is what's best. Once the war is won, Edelgard will reshape Fodlan until it's unrecognizable, and we'll be rid of the past once and for all.
[ and the fact that it's comforting. he's not being snide about it, he's grateful that felix is here because he doesn't know how to address it otherwise by himself. then again, perhaps the point is that he really shouldn't be isolating himself when this is happening.
it's true, though, and perhaps that's why it's disappointing: in his younger years he had thought that things will change once dmitri was put on the throne, and had downplayed or ignored felix's words about his friend.
and it's foolish to think of but he does have hope in edelgard's future. because if the past can be erased then perhaps they can move on to something better, no longer haunted by who they were, and will be able to look back at their childhood in a gentler way, as opposed to right now, where everything still hurts at the memory.
sylvain takes a last swig from the bottle and sets it aside. ]
I'm sorry. I should've listened to you more carefully. [ especially when they were younger. felix almost always seemed to have the accurate measure of the man. ]
[felix isn't sure what's so strange to sylvain about anything he's said, but he supposes he has changed since they defected. maybe his friend is seeing something he can't.
maybe it's just strange to hear felix try to get over dimitri after spending so many years attempting to convince everyone. talking about him all the time. he's got to find a way to put it all behind him for good, or he'll never stop seeing that dead-eyed violence in the mirror.
ugh. he's got to stop navel-gazing, too.]
Yes, you should have. Everyone should have. But I don't know how much of a difference it would have made in the end. He was a stubborn, foolish boar to his last breath, and no one would have gainsaid him back then. Not their perfect prince. 'Loyalty' and 'duty' always came first.
[he sneers, but it still hurts. the way everyone he cared about put useless ideals above their own lives and the lives of others. let themselves be blinded by them. everyone, he supposes, except sylvain.]
I don't think it was just that ... we were friends, too. We were close, or as much as he would allow in his position.
And he was lonely, I think, though I highly doubt the Archbishop helped in that regard.
[ tormented by duscur and turning to the church for aid, he really didn't think that helped matters for dimitri, because it turned the situation into something that hinged on the promise of salvation, if only certain conditions were met, if only there was the opportunity for power, if only. he can't fully condone edelgard's methods even now, but he can't say he disagreed with her anymore considering what lead to his choices to this day.
he'd turn his back on his family only once. ]
... not that that saved us any heartache in the end. [ because as bitter as felix sounded, he was hurt, too. he wasn't impervious to such emotion. ]
...whatever. It doesn't matter anymore. He's dead.
[it still doesn't feel quite real, that dimitri could be dead.
despite his dismissive words, felix frowns.]
Though sometimes...I wonder. If there was something else I could have done. Then again, perhaps it was already too late.
[felix doesn't fully condone edelgard's methods either, but what other choice did they have? he's come to terms with it all too quickly - the bloodshed, the chaos. his life was meant for battle one way or another, and what power he had to change anything another way, he threw away when he left Faerghus. war or no war, fighting and sylvain are all he has left.]
[ he gives a short laugh at that. ] Don't let Hubert hear you say anything of the sort.
[ he feels like that's wrong, too. like the sentiment is wrong and he shouldn't be dead and that they should continue to fear their inevitable meeting still. on the other hand he's gone, well and truly gone, edelgard had seen to that and he can't bring himself to thank her. for what? he doesn't know.
instead, he says, in all seriousness - ] We should have a funeral.
[he's never made a secret of how little regard he has for edelgard's melodramatic, scheming lapdog.
he looks a bit startled at the suggestion, before his expression falls into distaste. glenn's funeral was awful, and ever since then felix has planned to never attend one again, let alone hold one.]
[ being haunted, being in pain about someone they thought would be better. they don't have dimitri's body but they can pretend, they can have a mound for him somewhere and pay their respects there. ]
In any case it's just ... for us to be able to say things we couldn't, before, and to get it out entirely.
... I know I'm not making sense. I've probably drank too much. [ a soft laugh. ]
[felix lets himself think it over after his initial reaction. if it's just the two of them, there won't be any pretentious fanfare or empty speeches from people who couldn't give less of a damn. and sylvain's got a point, maybe, that if they condense all their thoughts and conversations into one event, it might keep them from weighing on their minds quite so heavily the rest of the time.
maybe this is how he'll finally succeed at emptying himself out so he can start over.
sylvain starts rummaging through his shelves until he finds one of his better wines, unopened, and sets it aside. he continues to look through the shelves, muttering here and there - "i know i still have it, where is it ..." - until he finds what he's looking for: some memorabilia from their school age years.
in his case it's a whetstone, for a dagger. and an owl feather. ]
... this was his, I'd planned to return it a long time ago and I just forgot.
I don't think I have anything of Ingrid's .... oh no, maybe I do. [ he produces a blue ribbon.
that'll do, for their funeral. ] If you have anything you want to add, feel free to do so. After that, all we need is a box.
[felix's lips press together into a thin line, seeing this nostalgic display, but he stands too.]
I...might have something. I'm going to look.
[he ducks out of sylvain's tent into the pouring rain, just long enough to get soaked all over again before he enters his own. not until the flap is closed behind him does he sigh heavily and rub his face with both hands. are they really doing this? torturing themselves with mementos on top of everything else?
yes, he supposes they are. he reaches underneath his cot for the wooden box he keeps there, tucked away out of sight in a corner. he'll never in a million years admit that he carries this around wherever he goes.
he opens it up and tries to be methodical about this instead of letting each item dredge up more memories. he shifts the black iron spur aside along with a few pieces of parchment and a book that ashe once gave him - no, it's just a book - until he finds what he's looking for. perhaps it's maudlin of him to keep these things, anyway.
when he returns to sylvain's tent, he's holding three things: an old horseshoe (from ingrid's favorite horse; she gave it to him for luck, a long time ago), a folded letter (from dimitri, sent to him days before the royal family and glenn left for duscur), and a silver brooch (bearing the fraldarius crest, which rodrigue gave him years ago for formal functions).]
Here.
[he thrusts them into sylvain's hands unceremoniously, glaring a little as if daring his friend to ask questions.]
[ he smiles at him, doesn't linger at the mementos because it's a private thing for him, too, entrusted to sylvain even as they're in his hands. they burn with feeling. sylvain sets them all carefully in a pile and starts rummaging for a serviceable box, a wooden one with a latch that he was using to store his inkwells in; he can figure out a way to store them in other ways, he thinks, setting the small bottles aside as he empties the box.
the letter has to be folded a bit more in order to fit, but the rest of it otherwise manages to do so. the latch is small, and for extra durability, he finds a piece of leather twine he can wind around it. ]
That should do the trick.
We'll borrow a shovel, and then ... well, if we find flowers along the way we can put something on top of it as a proper grave. Otherwise, I think we've done all that we can.
[ he looks at him as he takes the good wine with him, as well. ] You ready to go?
[ they step out. it's still a cloudy sky, the wind making it chilly as the festivities have died down to little more than a murmur amidst drunken voices. several people congratulated them along the way, a mix of half-hearted glasses raised to the proper snap of a salute. sylvain nods and thanks them where it's necessary but it's nothing that he needs, let alone felix; they borrow a shovel; they make their way into the dark.
the trails are dark and slippery. sylvain's thankful he didn't drink too much that it'd make traversing it too difficult; in any case he's not looking to go too deep into the forest anyway. when they get into a clearing, the soil soft and mossy underneath their feet, he stops. ]
[felix ignores the congratulations and greetings entirely. he doesn't even bother looking over at them. he's starting to think pulling out those mementos was a bad idea. it's like they're...calling to him, from the box in sylvain's hand. accusing. dragging his thoughts into the past against his will.
sylvain said they would speak at this little funeral of theirs. say things they couldn't say before. but felix has no idea what he wants to say, or what he even has to say that hasn't already been said. he hates talking about these things, anyway. it's so much easier to just try to bury them. though sylvain seems to think they'll have to talk before they can bury, and what does felix actually know about moving past grief? evidently, not nearly as much as he thought.
but he follows sylvain through the darkness and into the trees until they stop where the ground is spongy and soggy. his night vision is decent, but even he can barely see anything, here. he'd taken the shovel so that sylvain would carry the box, so he wastes little time in moving past sylvain and poking at the ground in a few places before he finds what he thinks is the best spot and starts digging.
it's good to have something physical to do, so he's not just standing around with his stupid thoughts.]
I guess ... deep enough so animals don't accidentally dig it up?
[ if some thief tries to unearth it, he hardly thinks there's anything in the box worth of value that they'd be able to sell, but he's more worried about burrowing animals that could accidentally ruin it for them.
sylvain takes piece of branch and breaks it, sharpens the end with a dagger. this will be their marker. ]
[felix begins to dig. he lets his mind blank with the repetitive motions and the sounds of the forest at night, the rain pattering on the leaves. this is easy. this, he understands. a task that needs doing, and so he does it, and it's simple. like battle is supposed to be.
he pauses every so often for sylvain to check the depth with the marker he made, until they deem the hole deep enough. felix tosses the shovel aside and folds his arms. he hopes sylvain doesn't expect him to say much. or go first. or...pray, or whatever.]
[ he doesn't really know what else to do, if there's some sort of ceremony involved with these things. but for what it's worth, he takes out his handkerchief and wraps the small box in it, and places it carefully in the hole that felix has dug.
he sits cross-legged on the dirt, and thinks about what to say. finally, he settles with, ]
I guess I'll go first.
To Miklan, whom I never got along with, you are always in my thoughts along with all of the regrets I've had since we were children.
.... to Ingrid, I wish you listened to me. [ a mirthless laugh. ] I guess it doesn't matter now. Whatever compelled you to stay, I ... I hope it made you happy in the end. Even if it's hard.
... Dimitri, you - [ his voice catches, and then he starts crying.
it's awful. he wasn't expecting it. it just wells up in him like a storm; first like lead, then bile at the back of his throat, the experience frustrating, and humiliating. ] - you would've made a good king. And I still believe that. It didn't have to be like this, but -
[ but nothing. he had lost. they won. what other excuse does he have.
he didn't realize it was going to be this hard, and he doesn't finish his eulogies. sylvain wipes his face with the back of his hand and is quiet for a while as he whimpers like a child, because he doesn't know what else to say. ]
[felix doesn't sit, at first. he doesn't intend to, either. he listens to sylvain and feels his old hatred for miklan simmer back just under the surface. he listens, and doubts that anything made ingrid happy anymore. he listens, and then there's nothing more to listen to but the sound of tears and rain.
that's when he sits beside sylvain in the dirt and speaks quietly.]
...Ingrid. You never figured out how to get over mourning Glenn any more than I did. I think you stayed for what you swore in his memory, and I think it was stupid and self-destructive, and you should have come with us. You should be here with us. ...but I suppose you'll see Glenn before I will. And who knows, maybe that was the point.
[he stares into the hole where the little box sits, so innocuously judging him. a part of him wants to retrieve it and smash it to bits. he doesn't.]
Father.
[he pauses there to will the ice he built around his heart when it came to Rodrigue to stay frozen firmly. sylvain isn't the only one who didn't realize it was going to be this hard; but felix fears that if he does start, he'll never stop, just pouring a decade's worth of rage and misery and spite into the hole until it's overflowing.
he goes on anyway.]
You...tried to kill your own son. For living and fighting for what I believed in. All that time you wanted me to fall in line and be a good little knight for you, you never saw me at all. You saw the Glenn-shaped child you wanted and you tried to mold me to fit. I never would have, even if I had stayed. So you...
[his breath hitches and his throat tightens and he knows what comes next, because it used to happen to him all the time. it's almost painfully familiar. he pulls his knees up close to his chest and wraps his arms around them, staring into the darkness of the makeshift grave and letting the tears spill over even as he fights to keep his voice even.]
You wrote me off in favor of Dimitri and washed your hands of me. And I suppose that's why you were prepared to run me through. I had become just another...another duty to you, another family mess for you to clean up. Well, there is no more family now. There's just me.
As for the boar...
[he shakes his head, swallowing that insult along with his pride. he was foolish to think he had nothing left to say; to think he wouldn't find the words. he suspects now that he could speak forever and still never run out.]
Dimitri. When we were children, I would have done anything for you. I was ready to walk the Fraldarius path, training for the day when I could happily give my life for your sake. And now here I am, blubbering like a saints-damned fool, for your sake. No matter how far I run from Faerghus, no matter how many people I betray or oaths I break, or how much blood I spill, you still won't leave me be. I can't--I refuse to live in your shadow anymore. You're dead, so...just...just stay dead and let me live in peace, you bastard.
[he sniffles, just once, and in the silence that remains he turns his face up to the rain and closes his eyes.]
[ all of those words, from a man who never liked funerals nor talking, and sylvain feels like his mind is unspooling ever so slowly under grief.
even felix is affected, and how can he not be? this is the only way the two of them can say good bye now. there's something cowardly about it to him. but how else would they say such words to the people they care for? it's already too late now and it was still too late then when they were in battle and have seen each other with fear in their eyes as if meeting each other again for the first time, and it was too late to save anyone.
are they free? who knows what that means now. sometimes sylvain wishes he was with the knights of seiros, because at least, if they die, someone can sweetly lie to them that there was a version of peace they can believe in no matter how brutal the war is.
barring all of that, all they have is dirt and suffering. sylvain wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and grabs the shovel. if there's nothing else, he'll do the honours and bury the box. it's his turn now. his hands are shaking and he feels numb. this was a mistake, he thinks; and he was hoping, foolishly, that he'd feel lighter. better. guilt-free. but he doesn't, his heart is heavy and his head aches and he digs. ]
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branchandroot
no subject
Date: 2021-06-05 01:13 pm (UTC)[ certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd done it, if only because there are certain habits that are safe and easy and comforting, even if he's not the type to stay the next day, or ask them to stay. sylvain has needs, perhaps some people would call them faults, but he has them nonetheless.
he hands him the bottle of wine. it's not the best, given the circumstances, but it's what he's got and he's not about to complain when some of their men are literally sleeping in the dirt. gone are the days when he can rely on certain comforts for a lot of things. edelgard's project means that his name, and the presence of his crest, will long fall to unpopularity and obscurity with her might. ]
Thank you for thinking of me. But it wouldn't be the first time. [ he has, however, yet to drag his darling face right thru the mud and for that, he is grateful for his own luck. ] That being said, now that we have their favour, it's time to start looking sharp again, isn't it.
[ and what a pain that was. ]
no subject
Date: 2021-06-05 08:54 pm (UTC)[felix accepts the bottle and takes a swig. he makes a face.]
This is awful.
[But he takes another sizeable sip anyway before he hands it back.]
I don't care if it would be the hundredth time. If we get ambushed and you're too hungover to defend yourself, I'm not stepping in to save your hide.
[that's a lie, and sylvain probably knows it. but it makes his point, he thinks.
then he scoffs.]
I couldn't care less about what they think of me. I don't need or want their approval. Praising us for being willing to--...do our jobs, it's such hypocritical bunk. Empty words. I'm not changing a thing.
no subject
Date: 2021-06-06 07:11 pm (UTC)[ at least not now. sylvain takes the bottle of wine from him and sighs as he takes a sip and sets it down. he can't drink himself out of his mind if felix is here preaching responsibility. he'd feel guilty otherwise, in a day, a month, an entire year, half a decade of balancing guilt with responsibility. ]
... our jobs. Well, I don't know if we're good at it or bad at it.
It was awful. Dedue - [ and that's as far as he goes; sylvain is quiet again, thinking of miklan, thinking of so many things not wanting to be said, and he drinks instead. ]
no subject
Date: 2021-06-07 05:38 am (UTC)[it's an empty jab, lacking real venom. he watches sylvain put down the bottle and wonders how long that will last.]
We're good enough to get it done. That's all that matters.
[ah. not long, apparently.]
...I know.
[felix is thinking of miklan, too, and of the desperation he used to feel years ago, when he tried to goad dedue into opening his eyes and seeing what he was enabling. felix finds that being right is almost never actually satisfying. especially when everyone he could say 'i told you so' to is dead.
and he's thinking about dimitri. because apparently, no matter what he does or who he cuts down, he can never stop thinking about dimitri.
he huffs a sharp chuckle with no mirth in it and motions for sylvain to give him the bottle back again when he's done with it.]
I suppose we've finally become the haunted ones. How pathetic.
no subject
Date: 2021-06-11 02:51 pm (UTC)[ he heaves a heavy sigh as he thinks about dimitri, and rather bitterly, drinks a bit more of the wine. ]
We are allowed to make such decisions. This might be selfish, and they certainly didn't have to like it, but it's not like we did it for fun.
I'm willing to be haunted. It's all I've ever known, since Miklan. [ a bitter laugh - ] I'm just upset, I suppose.
no subject
Date: 2021-06-12 03:22 am (UTC)[he has to force the name out without hesitating, but he refuses to wallow over it. the sooner they get used to talking about the...the dead, the sooner it will become just another topic of conversation.
(Sure, because Glenn ever became just another topic of conversation. Whatever.)]
He wasn't. And he couldn't be trusted to rule. Especially not with Rhea pulling the strings. There would have been no point in continuing to torture ourselves for an unworthy cause.
[he says it like he firmly believes it 100%, but his eyes say he's convincing himself as much as he's trying to convince Sylvain, and so do his actions when he takes the bottle back again and sips generously.]
Mm. ...I never thought it would be the boar haunting me. Or my old man. Or Ingrid. I used to tell Dimitri over and over that the dead don't haunt anyone. They're gone. There's no one left to care. But perhaps I was a fool, even if I was right. The dead don't haunt us, but it seems we let our memories do it in their stead.
[felix doesn't want that. doesn't want regrets. doesn't want the past to dog his steps any more than it's already done for half his life. if there were a way to just forget the last ten years, he thinks he would take it. he raises his head to glance at Sylvain.]
Faerghus was choked with them. Memories. This is what's best. Once the war is won, Edelgard will reshape Fodlan until it's unrecognizable, and we'll be rid of the past once and for all.
no subject
Date: 2021-06-12 10:36 pm (UTC)[ and the fact that it's comforting. he's not being snide about it, he's grateful that felix is here because he doesn't know how to address it otherwise by himself. then again, perhaps the point is that he really shouldn't be isolating himself when this is happening.
it's true, though, and perhaps that's why it's disappointing: in his younger years he had thought that things will change once dmitri was put on the throne, and had downplayed or ignored felix's words about his friend.
and it's foolish to think of but he does have hope in edelgard's future. because if the past can be erased then perhaps they can move on to something better, no longer haunted by who they were, and will be able to look back at their childhood in a gentler way, as opposed to right now, where everything still hurts at the memory.
sylvain takes a last swig from the bottle and sets it aside. ]
I'm sorry. I should've listened to you more carefully. [ especially when they were younger. felix almost always seemed to have the accurate measure of the man. ]
no subject
Date: 2021-06-13 12:04 am (UTC)[felix isn't sure what's so strange to sylvain about anything he's said, but he supposes he has changed since they defected. maybe his friend is seeing something he can't.
maybe it's just strange to hear felix try to get over dimitri after spending so many years attempting to convince everyone. talking about him all the time. he's got to find a way to put it all behind him for good, or he'll never stop seeing that dead-eyed violence in the mirror.
ugh. he's got to stop navel-gazing, too.]
Yes, you should have. Everyone should have. But I don't know how much of a difference it would have made in the end. He was a stubborn, foolish boar to his last breath, and no one would have gainsaid him back then. Not their perfect prince. 'Loyalty' and 'duty' always came first.
[he sneers, but it still hurts. the way everyone he cared about put useless ideals above their own lives and the lives of others. let themselves be blinded by them. everyone, he supposes, except sylvain.]
no subject
Date: 2021-06-13 12:10 am (UTC)And he was lonely, I think, though I highly doubt the Archbishop helped in that regard.
[ tormented by duscur and turning to the church for aid, he really didn't think that helped matters for dimitri, because it turned the situation into something that hinged on the promise of salvation, if only certain conditions were met, if only there was the opportunity for power, if only. he can't fully condone edelgard's methods even now, but he can't say he disagreed with her anymore considering what lead to his choices to this day.
he'd turn his back on his family only once. ]
... not that that saved us any heartache in the end. [ because as bitter as felix sounded, he was hurt, too. he wasn't impervious to such emotion. ]
no subject
Date: 2021-06-13 01:00 am (UTC)[it still doesn't feel quite real, that dimitri could be dead.
despite his dismissive words, felix frowns.]
Though sometimes...I wonder. If there was something else I could have done. Then again, perhaps it was already too late.
[felix doesn't fully condone edelgard's methods either, but what other choice did they have? he's come to terms with it all too quickly - the bloodshed, the chaos. his life was meant for battle one way or another, and what power he had to change anything another way, he threw away when he left Faerghus. war or no war, fighting and sylvain are all he has left.]
no subject
Date: 2021-06-13 01:31 am (UTC)[ he feels like that's wrong, too. like the sentiment is wrong and he shouldn't be dead and that they should continue to fear their inevitable meeting still. on the other hand he's gone, well and truly gone, edelgard had seen to that and he can't bring himself to thank her. for what? he doesn't know.
instead, he says, in all seriousness - ] We should have a funeral.
no subject
Date: 2021-06-13 01:56 am (UTC)[he's never made a secret of how little regard he has for edelgard's melodramatic, scheming lapdog.
he looks a bit startled at the suggestion, before his expression falls into distaste. glenn's funeral was awful, and ever since then felix has planned to never attend one again, let alone hold one.]
Why? I hate funerals.
no subject
Date: 2021-06-13 01:59 am (UTC)[ being haunted, being in pain about someone they thought would be better. they don't have dimitri's body but they can pretend, they can have a mound for him somewhere and pay their respects there. ]
In any case it's just ... for us to be able to say things we couldn't, before, and to get it out entirely.
... I know I'm not making sense. I've probably drank too much. [ a soft laugh. ]
no subject
Date: 2021-06-13 02:33 am (UTC)maybe this is how he'll finally succeed at emptying himself out so he can start over.
he makes a disgruntled noise, but he nods.]
Fine. We'll have a funeral. Just us, no one else.
[he pauses.]
Not just for him. For my father and Ingrid, too.
no subject
Date: 2021-06-13 03:03 am (UTC)[ he stands up.
sylvain starts rummaging through his shelves until he finds one of his better wines, unopened, and sets it aside. he continues to look through the shelves, muttering here and there - "i know i still have it, where is it ..." - until he finds what he's looking for: some memorabilia from their school age years.
in his case it's a whetstone, for a dagger. and an owl feather. ]
... this was his, I'd planned to return it a long time ago and I just forgot.
I don't think I have anything of Ingrid's .... oh no, maybe I do. [ he produces a blue ribbon.
that'll do, for their funeral. ] If you have anything you want to add, feel free to do so. After that, all we need is a box.
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Date: 2021-06-13 04:04 am (UTC)I...might have something. I'm going to look.
[he ducks out of sylvain's tent into the pouring rain, just long enough to get soaked all over again before he enters his own. not until the flap is closed behind him does he sigh heavily and rub his face with both hands. are they really doing this? torturing themselves with mementos on top of everything else?
yes, he supposes they are. he reaches underneath his cot for the wooden box he keeps there, tucked away out of sight in a corner. he'll never in a million years admit that he carries this around wherever he goes.
he opens it up and tries to be methodical about this instead of letting each item dredge up more memories. he shifts the black iron spur aside along with a few pieces of parchment and a book that ashe once gave him - no, it's just a book - until he finds what he's looking for. perhaps it's maudlin of him to keep these things, anyway.
when he returns to sylvain's tent, he's holding three things: an old horseshoe (from ingrid's favorite horse; she gave it to him for luck, a long time ago), a folded letter (from dimitri, sent to him days before the royal family and glenn left for duscur), and a silver brooch (bearing the fraldarius crest, which rodrigue gave him years ago for formal functions).]
Here.
[he thrusts them into sylvain's hands unceremoniously, glaring a little as if daring his friend to ask questions.]
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Date: 2021-06-13 04:04 pm (UTC)the letter has to be folded a bit more in order to fit, but the rest of it otherwise manages to do so. the latch is small, and for extra durability, he finds a piece of leather twine he can wind around it. ]
That should do the trick.
We'll borrow a shovel, and then ... well, if we find flowers along the way we can put something on top of it as a proper grave. Otherwise, I think we've done all that we can.
[ he looks at him as he takes the good wine with him, as well. ] You ready to go?
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Date: 2021-06-13 07:18 pm (UTC)I am. Let's get this over with.
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Date: 2021-06-13 10:09 pm (UTC)[ they step out. it's still a cloudy sky, the wind making it chilly as the festivities have died down to little more than a murmur amidst drunken voices. several people congratulated them along the way, a mix of half-hearted glasses raised to the proper snap of a salute. sylvain nods and thanks them where it's necessary but it's nothing that he needs, let alone felix; they borrow a shovel; they make their way into the dark.
the trails are dark and slippery. sylvain's thankful he didn't drink too much that it'd make traversing it too difficult; in any case he's not looking to go too deep into the forest anyway. when they get into a clearing, the soil soft and mossy underneath their feet, he stops. ]
This seems like a good place for it.
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Date: 2021-06-14 11:40 am (UTC)sylvain said they would speak at this little funeral of theirs. say things they couldn't say before. but felix has no idea what he wants to say, or what he even has to say that hasn't already been said. he hates talking about these things, anyway. it's so much easier to just try to bury them. though sylvain seems to think they'll have to talk before they can bury, and what does felix actually know about moving past grief? evidently, not nearly as much as he thought.
but he follows sylvain through the darkness and into the trees until they stop where the ground is spongy and soggy. his night vision is decent, but even he can barely see anything, here. he'd taken the shovel so that sylvain would carry the box, so he wastes little time in moving past sylvain and poking at the ground in a few places before he finds what he thinks is the best spot and starts digging.
it's good to have something physical to do, so he's not just standing around with his stupid thoughts.]
How deep do you want this hole to be?
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Date: 2021-06-15 01:08 am (UTC)[ if some thief tries to unearth it, he hardly thinks there's anything in the box worth of value that they'd be able to sell, but he's more worried about burrowing animals that could accidentally ruin it for them.
sylvain takes piece of branch and breaks it, sharpens the end with a dagger. this will be their marker. ]
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Date: 2021-06-16 06:39 am (UTC)he pauses every so often for sylvain to check the depth with the marker he made, until they deem the hole deep enough. felix tosses the shovel aside and folds his arms. he hopes sylvain doesn't expect him to say much. or go first. or...pray, or whatever.]
Your turn.
gomen work killed me
Date: 2021-06-18 09:10 pm (UTC)[ he doesn't really know what else to do, if there's some sort of ceremony involved with these things. but for what it's worth, he takes out his handkerchief and wraps the small box in it, and places it carefully in the hole that felix has dug.
he sits cross-legged on the dirt, and thinks about what to say. finally, he settles with, ]
I guess I'll go first.
To Miklan, whom I never got along with, you are always in my thoughts along with all of the regrets I've had since we were children.
.... to Ingrid, I wish you listened to me. [ a mirthless laugh. ] I guess it doesn't matter now. Whatever compelled you to stay, I ... I hope it made you happy in the end. Even if it's hard.
... Dimitri, you - [ his voice catches, and then he starts crying.
it's awful. he wasn't expecting it. it just wells up in him like a storm; first like lead, then bile at the back of his throat, the experience frustrating, and humiliating. ] - you would've made a good king. And I still believe that. It didn't have to be like this, but -
[ but nothing. he had lost. they won. what other excuse does he have.
he didn't realize it was going to be this hard, and he doesn't finish his eulogies. sylvain wipes his face with the back of his hand and is quiet for a while as he whimpers like a child, because he doesn't know what else to say. ]
no worries!
Date: 2021-06-19 09:25 am (UTC)that's when he sits beside sylvain in the dirt and speaks quietly.]
...Ingrid. You never figured out how to get over mourning Glenn any more than I did. I think you stayed for what you swore in his memory, and I think it was stupid and self-destructive, and you should have come with us. You should be here with us. ...but I suppose you'll see Glenn before I will. And who knows, maybe that was the point.
[he stares into the hole where the little box sits, so innocuously judging him. a part of him wants to retrieve it and smash it to bits. he doesn't.]
Father.
[he pauses there to will the ice he built around his heart when it came to Rodrigue to stay frozen firmly. sylvain isn't the only one who didn't realize it was going to be this hard; but felix fears that if he does start, he'll never stop, just pouring a decade's worth of rage and misery and spite into the hole until it's overflowing.
he goes on anyway.]
You...tried to kill your own son. For living and fighting for what I believed in. All that time you wanted me to fall in line and be a good little knight for you, you never saw me at all. You saw the Glenn-shaped child you wanted and you tried to mold me to fit. I never would have, even if I had stayed. So you...
[his breath hitches and his throat tightens and he knows what comes next, because it used to happen to him all the time. it's almost painfully familiar. he pulls his knees up close to his chest and wraps his arms around them, staring into the darkness of the makeshift grave and letting the tears spill over even as he fights to keep his voice even.]
You wrote me off in favor of Dimitri and washed your hands of me. And I suppose that's why you were prepared to run me through. I had become just another...another duty to you, another family mess for you to clean up. Well, there is no more family now. There's just me.
As for the boar...
[he shakes his head, swallowing that insult along with his pride. he was foolish to think he had nothing left to say; to think he wouldn't find the words. he suspects now that he could speak forever and still never run out.]
Dimitri. When we were children, I would have done anything for you. I was ready to walk the Fraldarius path, training for the day when I could happily give my life for your sake. And now here I am, blubbering like a saints-damned fool, for your sake. No matter how far I run from Faerghus, no matter how many people I betray or oaths I break, or how much blood I spill, you still won't leave me be. I can't--I refuse to live in your shadow anymore. You're dead, so...just...just stay dead and let me live in peace, you bastard.
[he sniffles, just once, and in the silence that remains he turns his face up to the rain and closes his eyes.]
Re: no worries!
Date: 2021-06-20 12:05 am (UTC)[ all of those words, from a man who never liked funerals nor talking, and sylvain feels like his mind is unspooling ever so slowly under grief.
even felix is affected, and how can he not be? this is the only way the two of them can say good bye now. there's something cowardly about it to him. but how else would they say such words to the people they care for? it's already too late now and it was still too late then when they were in battle and have seen each other with fear in their eyes as if meeting each other again for the first time, and it was too late to save anyone.
are they free? who knows what that means now. sometimes sylvain wishes he was with the knights of seiros, because at least, if they die, someone can sweetly lie to them that there was a version of peace they can believe in no matter how brutal the war is.
barring all of that, all they have is dirt and suffering. sylvain wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and grabs the shovel. if there's nothing else, he'll do the honours and bury the box. it's his turn now. his hands are shaking and he feels numb. this was a mistake, he thinks; and he was hoping, foolishly, that he'd feel lighter. better. guilt-free. but he doesn't, his heart is heavy and his head aches and he digs. ]
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