PCs with Gerome

[swordhandled]

[ some threads are nsfw ]

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Week 1, Monday

[swordhandled]

[ Sometime after the announcement, Owain is on a Hunt for Gerome. There are things they need to talk about. ]

[maskarang]

[ It's never too hard to find Gerome. Except when it is.

After the announcement, he went to sit in the furthest corner of the courtyard. He's right next to a lit firepit with Minerva. ]

Week 1, Tuesday Morning

[maskarang]

[ As previously mentioned, it's never too hard to find Gerome (except when it is). Usually, you need only look for the wyvern practically glued to his side or head to the most isolated spot you can think of. This morning is no different. He's hanging around the forest. Not deep enough to get dragged into the resort, but he figures just loitering around here will ward off most people.

Especially since it's so early. ]

... Seems everytime we meet, we do nothing but argue. [ Considering how harsh his tone can be, this is... quite soft. ] Was it always this way? Perhaps I never thought to notice, before now.

[ Too busy trying to push everyone away, too busy throwing himself into a war. He looks down at Minerva with an unreadable expression. ] No, it may be that I never even gave him the time of day. And he, me. Our views have always been at insurmountable odds—that was true even before we came to the past. Surely if we spoke at camp, it would have only wrought unnecessary conflict. Just as it does now. [ When Minerva does nothing, he looks around at the trees. ] ... I do not regret keeping my distance, at least. Still, I must wonder if things would be smoother between us if I had not.

[ Many others picked up the slack for him when it came to conversations and planning. And now Owain asked him to help plan, to help be a unit again. ] And when Lucina played the part of our leader. None of us are a replacement for her, though I would not wish this madness upon her. She has endured too much on her own. I... could not bear it if she were here. The burden of knowing Cynthia and Owain are with me is almost too much already.

[ He sighs and takes two steps forward before crossing his armored arms again. ] ... "Mafia"...

[swordhandled]

[ In spite of all their arguments, Owain still wishes that they can have some sort of conversation that doesn't end with them walking away from one another angry. While not especially close, Owain does know Gerome well enough to at least have some sort of idea of where to find him. It takes far longer than he would have liked, but Owain eventually comes across the section of forest that Gerome is currently brooding in. He sees him before he can hear him, but he can at least tell that he seems to be... talking to something?

Or someone, really. He's pretty sure both Gerome and Aunt Cherche would kill him if he referred to Minerva as a "thing". But either way, it's enough for Owain to stop and reconsider his original plan to call out to Gerome. Would... it be rude to listen in? Perhaps. Most definitely. But Owain wants this insight into how Gerome is when there's no one else around him. He slows down his pace, instead stepping lightly in the snow as he walks closer, like how his father taught him. He's careful as he makes his way closer and closer until the only thing keeping Owain from being seen is the tree that stands between them.

He gets there too late to hear the start, but he hears enough to know that Gerome is talking about him, talking about them. Owain pokes his head slightly out to watch Gerome as he continues to speak to Minerva. He's... not used to hearing him speak like that. Even when they're not fighting, Gerome speaks with such a rough voice it's a wonder that he's not hoarse every day of the week. No, it's soft, pensive.

His hand trails along the bark of the tree as Owain speaks very softly: ] Gerome.

Week 1, Thursday Ass o'clock AM

[swordhandled]

[ there's a knocking on your door tonight, Gerome. ]

[maskarang]

[ about a minute later gerome cracks open the door. once he sees who it is, there's the sound of something heavy and metal gently hitting the ground before he opens the door enough for owain to see all of him.

he's, uh, fully dressed and in his armor. and wearing his mask. yeah. ]

What do you want?

Week 1, Saturday After Trial

[maskarang]

[ Does it come as any surprise that Gerome seeks Owain out immediately when the trial lets out? It's probably a mixture of the masks fault and the amount of people around, but he actually loses track of Owain and has to search around for a while. Mainly inside the resort, but eventually he ventures out and tries his hand outdoors.

Where you at, Owain? ]

[swordhandled]

[ owain is sitting out close to the ski area, not on a bench, just straight out on the snow. he's got both his swords on the ground next to him this time and he's just lost in thought as he looks out at the winter landscape.

he's not even turning to acknowledge that gerome is getting closer. he's probably not even going to be aware of him.

you should probably say something if you want to talk to him-- ]

Week 2, Thursday

[swordhandled]

[ he knows he's at a disadvantage here. even though he's using magic, there's no arguing over the fact that lances trump swords no matter what. the pole's reach beats his blade, plus gerome has always had the strength to back up his attacks.

not only that, it's always fearsome to see a brave lance come right at you. owain can't help the hesitation that strikes his body as gerome attacks. the point pierces through his coat, the lack of armor really hindering his defenses here. he's not moving, leaving gerome to make his second attack if he wants. ]

[maskarang]

[ ?! this is immensely concerning, to the point where he almost wants to hesitate and avoid striking a second time. but, no, a levin sword really isn't anything to scoff at. he grits his teeth together and goes for the second strike. he's aiming for the same spot. ] Stay alive!

week 3, monday

[swordhandled]

[ today has been... quite a day. there's no other way around it, but it's still not over yet. he told gerome to meet him in the courtyard that evening, so that's where he's standing.

waiting, hand gingerly coming to his throat, rubbing at the bruise that still remains. ]

[maskarang]

[ tonight is an extremely vague time to give someone. which minerva may or may not have heard him say several times as he debated when "tonight" was supposed to mean (and the sky is all black now, it always looks like night). since asking would have been too easy and would have made him feel like an idiot, he shows up roughly thirty minutes after the sun should've set.

lucky for him, owain is actually here. stiffly coming closer ] ... Greetings.

Week 3, Thursday Morning

[maskarang]

[ after going through his morning ritual he finds the new "gifts" for the week. these baffle him much more than last week. he squints long and hard at the fortune cookie in his hands before cracking it open and reading the message. ]

... A lesson I don't need to learn. [ frowning deeply at it before crumpling in his hands. fully intending to throw it away, he takes a single step forward and then—THUD. ]

[swordhandled]

[ wearily pokes his head up, and looks at Gerome on the floor ]

Did... you trip?

week 3, thursday (later)

[swordhandled]

[ owain has been bathing, spending time in the tub trying to calm down his beating heart. it's only after he's managed to do both that and clean himself. still used to sleeping on his own, he's exited the bath, wearing only a towel as he looks for clothes to wear ]

[maskarang]

[ poor owain. he's a little more used to this now than he was the first time he accidentally caught it, but he's still not completely used to it. lifting his head up from the other side of the bed (yes, he's on the floor) to look at owain and clearing his throat. ]

Week 3, Friday

[swordhandled]

[ sighing as Rean escorts him back to Gerome's room ]

[maskarang]

[ as always, the door is unlocked. gerome is pacing inside waiting for owain to come back. he's sans armor, sans mask, and, surprisingly, sans minerva. ]

Week 3, Sunday (Post Execution)

[maskarang]

[ after about an hour of standing outside owain's door, gerome heads to his room to check on minerva. cue opening the door! ]

[swordhandled]

[ owain is kneeling on the ground in front of minerva, he's got a pleading look in his eyes as he looks into hers ]

Are you sure you don't know where he is? Minerva, please any help you can give me would be great.

week 5, monday

[swordhandled]

[ it was about as much of a restful night as they could have gotten, considering the weekend they managed to survive. nothing will ever lessen the blow of losing cynthia, and gerome is still massively injured. he's stuck on bed rest for the time being and owain has been doing his best to take care of him. it's given him something to do, something to keep his mind off the loss.

it's a fitful rest, owain careful to not cuddle too close to gerome so as to not open any wounds. then, the memory hits and owain can't rest anymore. he's sitting up in bed, tears running down his face and screaming ]

What have I done?!

[maskarang]

[ he doesn't actually move when he wakes. all he does is stay frozen in place, eyes slowly sliding open as his mind struggles to come to grips with what he just witnessed. while his heart is racing, the rest of his body feels completely numb.

the scream quickly jolts him out of his stupor. his eyes move sluggishly to owain, tracing his figure through the darkness. the words make little sense to him but, well, that's nothing new. he doesn't yet know what to make of his despair, of the pain, but perhaps focusing on owain will help. if not that, then his mask. it's always helped him hide his pain before.

slowly, he sits up and tenderly reaches for owain's face. ] Owain?

week 5, pre trial

[swordhandled]

[ owain has currently set up a nice little nest for gerome to cozy up in, getting blankets and pillows for him to cozy up on

and fluffing one of the pillows ] Is this enough?

[maskarang]

[ minerva is absolutely enjoying the nest. she's situated herself on literally half the pillows and is snoozing merrily

gerome is less than enthused, but he knows better than to express it too openly. owain is trying, minerva is happy, and while this is excessive, he appreciates the care. kind of. like, he also hates it? but he appreciates the thought. ] ... It is.

week 5, post trial

[swordhandled]

[ whenever ghost gerome makes his way to their room, he will see that quite possibly a mini-tornado has gone through the place. owain has thrown a lot of stuff around, against the walls. he's made an attempt to clean it up, but there's still... quite a lot that owain needs to get back together. minerva and deirdre are currently napping together.

owain has his manual of justice set up to a blank page, with a pen ready, and a note written on the page ]

"Gerome, let me know whenever you're here."

[maskarang]

[ as if he wasn't there when it happened. he can't say he blames owain for the destruction, nor would he blame owain for being angry with him. this was avoidable—that's the worst part of it. he should have known better, been more calm, more logical. or, failing that, considered how much it would hurt owain to see him perish. how could he have done this to someone he cared about while fully knowing what it meant?

he sits on the bed with his regrets for sometime before noticing the notebook. there's an uncertain, unseen glance between owain and the book before he heads over and brushes his fingers gently against the page. he doesn't press down hard enough for it to leave any significant impression but, if owain's paying attention? he probably does see the page move a little.

after, he picks up the pen and jots down a reply. his handwriting is extremely neat. (but it isn't courier new it's cursive, it's just hard to pick fonts so use your imagination) ]

I can hear you.