swordhandled | PCs with Gerome

[ 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?!

[ 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?

Edited 2018-12-24 07:04 (UTC)

[ for once, owain doesn't seem to be aware of gerome's presence. he's still lost in the memory that he recalled. he jerks away he gerome reaches for him and he can only look at him in horror.

would he-- ]

I'm a monster.

[ ... tears? he squints down at his wet fingertips before focusing on owain again. ]

... Three words are not enough, not this time. Breathe. Calm yourself. When you've done that, explain.

[ he's looking at gerome deeply. part of him wants to run away, not even give him the chance to listen. it's terrible, what he did, but-- he also knows gerome. it takes a moment before he closes the distance between them. he latches on and just

breathes, trying to calm himself.

sorry not sorry that you're getting soaked with tears ]

[ gods—this is the last thing he expected. owain's been so careful with him, to the point of not even holding him too tight, and he's missed deeper contact. more than that? he... in a very real way, he needed this too. so much so that as he hears owain's sobs, feels his tears, and feels how close they are he nearly breaks himself.

nearly, but not enough to shed tears. what he does instead is wrap his arms tight around owain. an embrace is what they both need, which he realizes as his squeezes his eyes shut. ]

[ it felt good, to hold gerome like this once more. owain knows that he should be more careful, that gerome is still injured, but this physical contact is something the both of them desperately needed. he feels gerome's wrap around him he just cries more. he doesn't deserve this love, this affection from him. but he can't pull away.

he cries until there's nothing left inside of him. then, softly, he speaks up, not pulling away from him. ]

I killed them. I sent them to their deaths.

[ the wait is excruciating. he wanted time away from his thoughts—from the memories. but with owain's sobs and minerva's gentle breathing as the only sounds in the air, he can't entirely escape them. cherche's face, hardened and lined with slight wrinkles, haunts his mind. enough so for him to miss when owain first speaks. he opens his eyes and blinks slowly, dimly.

"them"? his first thought is an obvious one: lucina and the rest of the children from the future. ] Who?

Other agents... I don't even know their names.

[ a deep breath before he pulls back to look gerome in the eye ]

The Foundation. They had me lie for them, convince ten agents that they should do anything for them. [ at that, he turns his head to the side ] They had me give a speech.

[ ... ah. he can't say he's glad, exactly (but he is thankful for the distraction. it may even show in the way he very marginally relaxes), but it would be a lie to say he didn't feel some relief hearing it wasn't anyone from their timeline.

he meets owain's gaze as steadily as he can. ] ... A speech. [ he repeats this curiously as he ponders what it means. owain's speeches are—well, they're obviously a mix of tall tales, pride, heroic rhetoric, and entertainment, but... he hasn't ever really considered them at length before. or, truth be told, considered them capable of convincing other people to act.

he may not fully understand, but it's clear owain is ashamed of himself. upset, too. enough to bawl when not even a near-death experience had phased him. uh, like this, at least. ] And that's why you think you're a monster?

I knew they were going to die, either from the creature that was being contained, or from the attack the Foundation was mounting to destroy. They were a distraction, a sacrificial force so the Foundation can carry out their attack.

[ a longer pause, and in the barest of whispers: ] One of them looked like Mother.

[ he hears the whisper, though he nearly misses it. his eyes immediately narrow. ] Hmph. They play a twisted game.

[ a proxy for a mother and his true mother used as pawns. and for what end? perhaps a bit too roughly, he reaches for owain and grasps his chin, forcing their eyes to meet. ]

Listen closely: you and I have both seen a monster. A true one who took nothing but pleasure in inflicting pain and suffering on others. Make no mistake—what you did is not the same. You are not a monster. You were forced to pervert something you hold dear—and made to do it in the presence of a proxy.

Edited 2018-12-24 08:23 (UTC)

--Her screams, Gerome. Her screams... I can still hear them. [ but he's nodding his head slowly at that ]

... I know. [ with just a few words, owain's dispersed most of his anger. this time, his voice is soft when he speaks. he knows well owain wouldn't forget the sound. and even he—

he shakes his head slowly before dropping his hand from owain's face. gently, he begins trying to coax owain back into a close embrace. ] Come. I cannot help you forget, but I can at least hold you until you're ready to face the day. ...Tonight, tomorrow, and every night after.

Edited (it bugged me when i woke up) 2018-12-27 15:15 (UTC)

[ he gently lets himself be coaxed, still being careful with gerome's injuries. ] You do so much for me.

[ tiredly, he leans against owain as much as he can. the contact eases his mind more than he wishes to openly admit. ] You do just as much.

[ a small huff of laughter ] It never seems enough.

Only because you would dote on me endlessly if I allowed it.

You deserve it.

Hmph. No more so than you.

Moreso than me.

How anyone could utter such a ridiculous sentence is beyond me. A face so cute deserves nothing but relentless, unending care and affection.

And a face so handsome deserves every good thing that his fiance can provide to him.

... You provide plenty already. [ leaning in real close so their foreheads touch ] I appreciate all you do, from the way you care so dutifully for Minerva to the silly scribbles lining your notebook.

[ yeah he saw them, what of it ]

There's mo-- [ wait ] You saw that?!

week 5, monday

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