[OPEN] who will I be when the empire falls?

[bladeascent]

Who: Vildred & you :)
What: Unfortunately, it's a canon update
When: Early March
Where: Around the Grove, specific locations will be mentioned in prompts
Warnings: war depictions/mentions, general violence mentions, more tba


i. and i play discordant days on repeat [OTA]

[Vildred stumbles, trips, and catches himself on a tree at the edge of the Grove, the melting snow soaking into the ends of his pantlegs. At some point, he'd wandered off into the woods and he isn't sure when or why, his memories of "being in the Grove" and "being back in the Grove" missing their connecting point. Like the frost itself, he now dons white, the once-gold making up the insignia that sits upon the knot of his tie now gleaming silver and sickly purple. That same purple reflects now in his eyes, the prior bright gold shifted alongside his humanity.

The blood splatters on his hands were not there when he died, he recalls, but he recognizes their shape — they're the very same that had coated his palms after he'd assassinated, murdered Queen Diene. An action he thought was worth something then, now a sick joke staining his palms as a reminder. Similar splatters soak into his coat and undershirt, marks left from where wounds would be, had the Forest or some other force not seen fit to heal him.

For all intents and purposes, he deserved to die. To stay dead. To atone for all he'd done to Ezera, to Orbis, to Ras himself, the least he could have done was stay dead and buried. So many people believed in him. For seven fucking reincarnations, people had put faith into him as Ras' most devoted. Diene certainly had, and he'd killed her and made her son an orphan. Ran always had, spending several iterations of Orbis teaching him how to wield a sword. Kise, Ruelle, Victorika, Krau, Rinak, Robin — a single reincarnation cycle ago, they were his friends, comrades in arms, people he used to joke with and mourned when they fell in battle. Even Aki had believed in him, for all their arguments in the fifth world, for all the times Aki had called him a brat and refused to acknowledge Vildred's worth in some regards. A tentative allyship, but one nonetheless.

One Vildred had easily scorned, just as he'd scorned and made an enemy of the other deceased Heirs of the prior timelines, as easily as he'd let Kayron trick him in the newest world and cast Ras out as well.

"Ras Elclare's most loyal."

Vildred doesn't deserve the title, the claim, or what love Ras had reached out to him with in his final moments before death. And now, the Forest has taken it upon itself to give Vildred life anew, knowing that the man has no home to go back to, that he'd destroyed a chunk of it in some ever-so valiant thought he was saving it. He's not sure if he should consider it a fitting end, or if he should walk back into the woods and ask to be put out of his god damn misery before he fucks more things up for everyone. Worse still is the fact he can feel the Archdemon's power still flowing in his veins, as if it had never left him or waned at all, which will make him functionally immortal. Again.

Fuck.

Okay.

The mental breakdown is still ongoing — regret clouds his steps as he walks forward, making the bold choice not to run off into the forest forever and become a hermit simply because he knows people will come looking for him. He has to face the music eventually, though Vildred finds himself wishing that more people here cared enough about Orbis as a whole to give him a good hard punch for all he'd done, tricked by the Archdemon's lackeys or not.

So he stumbles and trips his way into the Grove. The resurrection he wasn't supposed to have, pulled from back home, weighs heavy. The snow does little to wash the blood from his hands or clothing, and as Vildred pulls himself back to his feet, his eyes meet yours.

Uncharacteristically, he doesn't smile and wave. He simply turns away, looking haunted.]

ii. until the tape runs out on me [CLOSED to Ras]

[The first person he needs to talk to is Ras.

By now, at least with the distant thrum of magic in his pulse, he imagines Ras must be starting to wake up. Funny how sour a taste the thought of Ras ever sleeping again leaves in his mouth; had he only woken up twenty years earlier on Orbis, Vildred might not have been tricked. In the end, it all worked out in Kayron's favour; separate the most devoted from the vessel, and hell breaks loose. In any other timeline, despite Vildred's deaths, there really was no stopping him and Ras if they were together. Ras, who had loved Vildred absolutely, and Vildred, who had stood dutifully at Ras' side and died for him every single time.

He wants to ask if the Archdemon was ever properly dealt with again after he perished that seventh time, but he knows Ras is from prior iterations of Orbis. He wouldn't know. That makes this harder; he has to fess up that he never deserved the kindness offered to him, that he was angry Ras never told him anything and that all it would have taken was one single statement to keep Vildred's non-communicative ass from going off the deep end, that he made mistakes that endangered the world and that he shouldn't have the blessing of air in his lungs or even be allowed in their goddamn home. And, of course, this happens in the timeline where it could have simply ended. No reincarnations, no world resetting. They could have made good on their promise to travel together. Vildred could have grown old at Ras' side. Could have tried, like he'd joked once, to ask Diche if he could maybe possibly sort of be made into something greater so he could spend eternity at Ras' side.

What a goddamn joke of a man he is.

He stumbles into their home, violet eyes locking with Ras', and he freezes. What the fuck is he supposed to say? "Hi, I fucked up" doesn't seem good enough. "I'm sorry I'm not as good of a person as you thought I am" gets closer. "Turns out there are seven total timelines as far as I can tell and I don't know how the seventh ends because I ruined it" is a good start, too.

But he clams up, his gaze dropping to the floor instead.]

iii. come up for air and choke on it all [CLOSED to Wolfwood]

[Several conversations and mental breakdowns later, Vildred makes his way to the bakery in search of Wolfwood, because if anyone will listen to him bitch and moan and fuel his anger, it's definitely him. He'd vented about the world resets and the Archdemon's bitch party enough to the guy, but now he has what is essentially the full fucking tea and is going to go fucking off. He deserves that much, he thinks.

Of course, the upstairs of the bakery is relegated to staff only, and Vildred isn't quite rude enough to let himself in. He does knock on the door, hard, a couple of times, crossing past the countertop to do so.]

Wolfwood? Are you here today?

iv. no one else knows that i've got a problem [CLOSED to Lodi]

[And somewhere else, Lodi is getting slammed with visions. Oops!

In another world entirely, in a battlefield smelling strongly of dust and blood and carnage, the skies are tinted a deep purple-red, and something looms ominously in the background, but that isn't at the forefront of what Lodi will be seeing. Instead, he'll see Vildred as he remembers him last — golden eyes, but without the scar over his face — facing off against another man. Vildred calls him "Kayron" in a shout angry enough to have shattered a window with the sheer magnitude of his rage, and in the centre of the battlefield, their blades clash. They push against one another, shove each other back. Clash again.

This occurs several more times, but even to the untrained eye, it's obvious who the victor will be. For as fast as Vildred is, Kayron far outspeeds him, is far more agile, and clearly more trained. A downwards swing of his blade slashes Vildred across the face and blinds him with his own blood, forcing the knight on the back foot. The whites of his eyes are just barely visible, searing a furious red, stinging, and through the hand clutching his face to stay the bleeding, Vildred can only manage a glower as he uses his blade for support.

The second blow comes swiftly enough to end it all, and the knight collapses into the dirt.]

Comments

[divinechains]

[ Ras should have also prepared something to say when he found Vildred. Mostly because he has been awake now. He's been helping to clean the mess of the woodcrawlers, while patiently waiting for Vildred to get home at night, where he'd sit in the bed and stay sitting upright. It's been only a few days - any more and Ras would've raised Hell and gone full scorched Earth to look for him. It doesn't come to that, fortunately. He doesn't immediately recognize Vildred's differences, hopping up from his spot where he's brushing Clawde. His steps do slow a moment when the changes hit Ras, but he doesn't seem to care much to stop fully.

He doesn't... quite know what it means. Maybe corruption? Maybe Suri got a hold of him? They might have to talk to Zahliya, then, and Ras can go fucking tear into a Fallen Bitch God, but for now he's immediately relaxed in seeing Vildred home safe. Er...

He reaches his hands out to gently take Vildred's, looking down to make sure he isn't the one hurt here, then gently curls his own fingers around them when he concludes he's alright. ]

G... good morning...! [ Oh, Ras, is that the first thing you can think to say? ] Or... no. Welcome home. [ Better, but still no- ]

...You look tired.

[bladeascent]

["Tired" is a good way of putting it. Who wouldn't be exhausted after waking up from death?

Vildred wants so badly to pull away from Ras. The way his fingers curl says it's instinctive, but unlike before he died back home, Vildred remembers everything — multiple resets, his time here, the way Ras makes him feel. None of that forgotten, and that, in the end, is what makes him reach out to wrap the other man in an embrace.

He doesn't deserve Ras' love, yet he takes it anyway.]

...there are seven resets. [He whispers.] You're not going to like what happens.

[divinechains]

[ Ras does not hesitate to return the embrace, though he does try to crane his head back and look at Vildred to do his best to study his face. There’s something… emitting from him that Ras can see. Something that he has not ever seen from Vildred. He doesn’t immediately put it together because he does not associate such an aura with Vildred. Has not. Has never.

But when Vildred says that last line, he pieces it together quickly. Acolyte.

…

Ras stops trying to look at Vildred’s face, and instead reaches up to cradle him downward. Vildred is much taller than he is, but he still invites him to use Ras as a support as much as he needs to. His touch is still soft, still delicate. Atonement, in its own right. ]

…Is it something you want to tell me now? [ Oh how the turn tables. ] If not, I would hope you may find some peace in rest and my arms. Whatever it may be, you are always more important, and I will always wait.

[bladeascent]

I really never deserved you.

[This is muttered against Ras' shoulder, Vildred's weight against him a heavy slump. He tries to avoid the other man's gaze as best he can, knowing that his purple eyes must be hideous now. They are to him, and that's the least-hideous part of him as far as he's concerned.

He's quick to let go, walking off to the bedroom. He needs to sit down, and as soon as he does, he rubs his face.

All he has to do is talk. All he ever had to do is talk. Why is it so difficult for him to just say something?]

Ras, I...

...I remember all of my lives with you. I remember Aki, and all the heirs before him. ...Kayron showed me.

[divinechains]

[ Ras frowns, clearly disagreeing with the sentiment that he's something to be "deserving". He doesn't like that word. He doesn't like that he cannot just be.

He does not voice these opinions, however. He simply follows Vildred and gently sits next to him. He does not touch Vildred, unsure if that would make things worse or not. He does offer his hand out to him all the same, though. There if Vildred wants, and only if he wants.

Though, he does falter slightly at that reveal. ]

... I... [ For a brief moment, he glances away. He knows Kayron. He knows how much he hates Vildred, and knows that the motherfucker knows all the right ways to make sure Vildred suffers. It would be just like him, wouldn't it? To show him the past. Ras would put fucking money on it that Kayron conveniently omitted the parts where Vildred and Ras were an inseparable pair. ] He... manipulated you. [ A statement, more than a question. ]

Whatever guilt clings to your heart right now is not yours to carry, Vildred. That is what the Acolytes do. They twist people.

i

[lovelyredthread]

[ Pavlova would say he knows the people of the Grove decently well. Vildred maybe wasn't one of the ones he talked to often, but he knew his heart well enough. He remembers reading over the several lifetimes worth of pining over Ras, and so the changes to his heart are what stick out, even more than the physical changes or the blood.

Vildred averts his eyes, Pavlova's expression doesn't waver. ]

... we should probably get you cleaned up before Ras finds you.

[ A soft suggestion, but with the weight of knowing it was only a matter of time. ]

[bladeascent]

[Internally, Vildred recoils from the thought. Facing Ras after betraying him so thoroughly, reaching out, and then dying for it is more than he deserves. He still thinks he should have walked off into the woods and died out there, and stayed dead, and in the end that would be less agonizing than having to admit to Ras he's permanently fucked up.

It's selfish to think only for himself in that regard, but Vildred has very recently become a selfish person. The thought doesn't even strike him as unnatural in the slightest.]

Probably. It's... old. I'm not hurt.

[lovelyredthread]

[ Frankly, from looking at him he doesn't think Vildred would care all that much if he were injured, but the assurance means one less thing to search for.

The young man's robe seemed to glide across the ground as he led the way. ]

No one's home right now. Do you want tea?

[ Still no question over where all this blood came from. He imagines Vildred... might need some time to breathe before he's ready to talk. ]

[bladeascent]

...sure.

[Might as well. Tea is normal. That's probably the most normal thing to ask, even, and Vildred clings to that sense of normalcy as he follows after Pav.]

Anything works. I'm not picky.

[lovelyredthread]

[ He hums in response and leads Vildred to the Cookie house. It always smells sweet here, between the scents of fruit, vanilla and flowers, it was probably one of the more relaxing places he could be. The tea he makes is spiced apple, sweet and citrusy, but warm.

He'd give Vildred new clothes, but he himself needs a new wardrobe given he's shot up a fair amount in height. None of his clothes would fit either of them. That being the case he focuses on cleaning up what he can. He beckons the man to the sink with a wing while he handles the tea so he can wash the blood from his hands and anywhere else it might've gotten on his skin. He could probably use the shower once they've had tea and... eased him down from whatever he's come from.

Funny how easily patterns like this came back from managing new arrivals to the Garden. ]

I'll work on getting that out of your coat. Magic's still being kind of iffy, but I can clean your shirt with it so you don't have to take it off.

i

[ofboreas]

[With the cloud that had mired this strange new world finally having lifted, Varka has been trying to make the best of his new accommodations. And with him being a Mondstadter, born and bred, that generally means getting to know the local spirits. He's presently ambling about outdoors with a pilfered mug, savoring some wine or another when he spots, well. Vildred.

As a knight, Varka has been apart of many campaigns, both as a foot soldier and a leader. He learned from a relatively young age what wounded, shell-shocked soul looked like. Whoever this guy is, he exhibits all the signs of a man haunted.

Considering his gait, it takes only seconds for him to cross the distance separating the two of them. He doesn't try to make contact, not right away at least. That was just as likely as it was to statle as it was to soothe. Instead, he shoves his mug forward.]

Drink. [Varka's tone is firm, bordering on commanding. They've never spoken before, so Vildred would likely not recognize the shift from his usual demeanor.] You're gonna need something to ground yourself with. Trust me.

[bladeascent]

[Vildred's brain in this moment is so thoroughly trauma-fried that he instinctively recoils, registering the blonde hair as that of Krau's. An old friend in one timeline and an enemy in the one he just left, and Vildred counts his blessings that said friend-scorned isn't actually here when he realises that this is a different person. Totally different facial structure and levels of douchebaggery and everything.

Man. He wants to go back to the time where Krau being kind of an overly-horny feisty asshole was the biggest of his problems.

The way this man speaks, though, tells Vildred that he has to be some sort of military commander himself. He knows better than to sag his shoulders in front of a fellow commanding officer, but...]

I don't...

[He starts, but huffs and decides not to saddle a perfect stranger with his self-loathing. The mug is taken, and he takes a slow sip.]

[ofboreas]

There we go.

[Drinking was a good first step, but Varka was working on an admittedly long checklist. Getting a hearty meal in him was going to be step two, but that would have to wait a moment. He'll bypass it in favor of step three, making sure the guy knows to loosen up a little.]

Listen to me, okay? [Gradually is tone shifts back, easing into something more companionable. Softer.] I don't know what you saw, or what's going on, but nothing's going to happen to you. You're in good company.

[Only now does Varka lay a hand on Vildred's shoulder. It's firm, but not restraining. If Vildred truly wants, he'll be able to shrug the hand off just as easily.]

What you need right now is a little food, and probably a lot more to drink. There's a bar not too far from here. Sound good?

[bladeascent]

I know where the bar is, [he snaps, his tone shockingly bitter before he breathes a sigh and reminds himself to reel it in. Despite all his mistakes in his last life, anger is still an uncommon feeling to him, no matter how furious he'd been at the time.] ...Sorry. It's a long story. I don't mean to snap at you.

Sounds good.

[He might as well eat. It's not like he got a last meal. He'd grown so despondent after a while on Orbis that eating became secondary to his listless wandering and the goals he thought he had to achieve.]

[ofboreas]

[Varka is quick to lift his arms, a placating gesture beneath that fury. The short temper is probably to be expected. He won't hold it against Vildred. He's always been adept at rolling with the punches — that remained true in situations like these.]

Sorry, sorry! You just looked a little like me there for a minute, lost and unsure where he is. Figured you might have been a newcomer yourself.

[Since Vildred seems to know where he's going, Varka opts to walk beside him, rather than being a complete mother hen. They both know the way.]

Now, I'm not going to give you the whole "talking about it makes it easier" speech. You don't really know me, and I don't know you. I just know the look on your face. I saw it on my knights plenty of time over the years.

It's the prompt for me

[lupusxylem]

[Wolfwood is here! He's not being a very good host, per-say- laying sprawled across the couch with his legs hanging over the armrest- but he's here. He recognizes Vildred's voice, so he pulls the sucker he'd been eating from his mouth so he can call out:]

It's open. Come in, m'here.

[bladeascent]

[Great. Vildred is letting himself in, climbing the stairs to the second floor, and then he's going to stand over the couch like hi.]

I need to vent. [Also his eyes are purple.] Do you remember how I was telling you about Orbis and the Archdemon and Kayron?

[lupusxylem]

[Hello-

Wolfwood blinks up at Vildred as he looms over him, using his elbows to push himself upright just a bit.]

Yeah...don't tell me one of those assholes actually showed up?

[bladeascent]

No, fuck no, [weird that he's cursing suddenly, huh, when he barely used to just because he didn't want Ras to repeat the words even though Ras knows Krau and has, in fact, parroted the words.] Luckily.

I. ...I walked off into the woods for a couple days and remembered some mistakes I made.

Also that I've died seven times.

[lupusxylem]

....ookay, uh. You...wanna sit down?

[Like Jesus Christ dude-

Wolfwood is going to sit up properly and scooch over a little to make space for Vildred, at least.]

Vague emetophobia -

[ninelines]

[ The entire, nebulous month that had passed since he had arrived in the Grove had been one nearly entirely without feedback from the Nine. Their presence had been a taste on the tip of his tongue rather than all-commanding and all-consuming; in many ways, this hint of existence in his overall periphery reminded him of the days before they had pulled him from his time to hundreds of years in the future.

When that sensation begins to grow ever-stronger, saturating his limbs and his nerve endings, it isn’t quite the sensation of being dropped into an ice bath that he had experienced during his first real brush with Them. He supposes he should be grateful he has the time to feel grateful about it being gradual before the first vision slams him upside the head.

It’s far different than the prior two he had received in his time at the Grove. Those were flashes of images, so short-lived and confusing that he had hardly been able to get a grasp on them. Even the flickers of glimpses of corpses had not been nearly this actualized.

Lodi recognizes Vildred far before he realizes what is happening. He is a bystander on a battlefield he does not recognize, steeped in blood and gore and the lingering sense that something terrible is about to happen. When Vildred is cut down, Lodi rouses abruptly from the vision with a stinging between his shoulders and the taste of ashwrought fury still heavy on his tongue. The precipice of flame still licks at his heels. ]

Jesus.

[ His voice is hoarse, like he’d been screaming. Was this vision from the Nine? The Forest? Was he to be tormented with visions of the deaths of the people here? He presses a hand to his mouth and does his best not to vomit onto the floor of the inn.

Surely he had to find Vildred. Something was – wrong. And surely it isn’t purely coincidental that he stumbles out of the inn and… there he is. Like the calling card to an omen that Lodi had seen. Altered, somehow, in a way that he can only guess at.

There is the nagging sense, at the back of Lodi’s cosmic-addled brain, that this was not the first time something like this had befallen Vildred. It makes him feel sicker to his stomach than he already is. ]

I –. Did you – die?

[ Great start, Lodi. ]

I Saw. What happened to you.

[bladeascent]

[Re-adjusting to life here, knowing he certainly can't go home ever — what a nice dream that had been — has been a process. Yes, he's being impatient with said process, simply willing things to feel normal again having come off of maybe one day of realising that he's a massive fuckup. Things take time and Vildred is not having it.

So he's outside occupying himself by cleaning his blade, frowning at his reflection in the cool metal. He can't believe his mentor trusted him with this sword and he's gone and used it to be the worst man on the planet, possibly all of the planets, and——

Lodi's voice and question completely throw him. He snaps his head up to look at the other man and squint, questioning, but ultimately yields to answering instead.]

Yes. Which death did you see — or, I guess, what specifically happened? There are seven of them.

[ninelines]

[ Lodi’s fucked up chuuni eye—not that he would know what the hell that is—is pulsing in time with the pounding of the blood in his ears. Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. He can hardly arrange scene before him into something that makes sense; the images he had seen in his vision are overlaid atop one another, fringed with the taste of iron in his throat. Vildred looks at him and Lodi sees a face cut through looking back for longer than he would like.

He has to swallow a few times. Rub both hands over his face to regain his bearings. ]

Which – which one? I – I only saw the one. I’m sorry. They – it wasn’t intentional. I wasn’t trying to –.

[ Okay, back up. Answer the question, Lodi. Better to share the information first and then ask for forgiveness after. ]

You were – fighting. In this place that was streaked with blood and ash. You were… so angry. There was a man named Kayron and he, killed you. The sky was this violent almost-purple and there was this huge thing in the distance but I – I couldn’t make it out. Seven?

[ What does he even say? He’s witnessed things like this accidentally before, but never with such vivid clarity, and never something so… he inches closer, trying not to look as thrown as he feels. ]

For what it’s worth, I am sorry.

[ For the vision or Vildred’s fate? Probably both. ]

[bladeascent]

[Vildred vaguely motions to a clear patch of grass nearby, an offer to sit down with him while he cleans and re-cleans and re-re-cleans the sword off. The sword his mentor gave him, when he was just a stupid kid that Ran saw promise in.

What a god damn mistake he is.]

That could be any but the seventh and fifth. [Vildred's laugh is thin. Forced.] You probably saw the Archdemon. That's... what we were all fighting against. Kayron works as an Acolyte under it. It makes it sound like a job title, but it's more like a cult, I guess.

You don't have to apologise. It's a long, long story, but Orbis has been destroyed by the Archdemon six times, and Diche reset it back to what it was after every loss. Ras was created to stop it, and as you can imagine, he's failed six times. I was there for all of them, always fighting at his side.

[...]

Until the seventh iteration, which I imagine is the last. We defeated the Archdemon, and I went and messed it up for everyone.

[ninelines]

[ After a moment of warring with himself and whether this was the proper way to go about discussing a vision of this magnitude, Lodi seats himself where Vildred has indicated. The repetitive motion Vildred is engaged in, the act of cleaning his weapon ad nauseam, reminds Lodi enough of the motions his more haunted comrades in arms would engage in to self-soothe. Taking something apart and putting it back together, the familiarity of going through the motions, the mindlessness of it… if they were closer than they were, and if he knew the depths of Vildred's torment, Lodi might have reached out a hand to stop him.

As is, he keeps his hands to himself. He valiantly does not wince at the tight sound of Vildred's laughter, but he does grimace. In a way, he understands. He might not know the circumstances beyond what he had Seen, but he understands.

Lodi has come to understand, through both circumstance and retelling, that a sizable number of the people here had… more or less, gone through hell. Vildred being among their number after the kindness he had shown Lodi is… heart-wrenching, yes, but equally embittering. Empathy spears something akin to righteous anger in Lodi's heart and roots it firmly there.

He does not know the specifics. A large part of him is convinced he does not need to. The way Vildred spoke about it all was if he had resigned himself to an understanding of the events that seemed misaligned with what Lodi knew of his character. And though he scarcely knew Vildred, he liked to think, in his heart of hearts, that he was a decent judge of character. ]

First of all: I am sorry that you were forced to endure all of that. If you don't mind me asking, when you said you went and messed it up, what exactly do you mean?