[ Marianne takes a breath, threading her fingers together. ]
... I've been keeping a secret for some time now. If there's a chance of me becoming someone different, now or in the future, I think you should know. That way, you'll be able to protect yourself.
[ Even if she's remained free of Gnosia infection this time, it doesn't mean there won't be another trial in the future, another chance of losing herself. She won't let him be blindsided, because Claude is a dear friend to her and the sharpest person she knows. He'd be able to spot any changes in her. He'd be able to protect himself and others. She trusts him to know what to do, so rather than trepidation, it's with a sense of deep faith that she finally arrives at this moment. ]
It's about my Crest. I don't have an ordinary one.
[ Claude has done a good deal of research on Crests back home -- he had to to understand the basics of Fodlan's polite society, quietly cursing his mother for neglecting him to tell him the very tenets on which her home was built upon. He pauses, wracking his brain for what Marianne's Crest is. It occurs to him that he hasn't got the faintest clue. He'd known she must have a Crest for Lorenz to... well, be Lorenz about it, but no more than that. ]
No Crest seems ordinary to me. But... go on. What's so different about your Crest?
[ She seems to hold the belief that it does something terrible to her. He can't deny that as a possibility, the science behind crests still a strange, archaic thing to him, but even so, he has difficulty believing it.
[ Marianne clasps her hands nervously. It takes her a moment to begin. It's not easy to put words to a long-held secret knowing the truth might change the way Claude thinks of her, hurting their friendship irrevocably, but if the knowledge can keep him safe...she's willing the bear the isolation. ]
When I enrolled at the academy, my adoptive father asked for it to be kept unknown. That's because I possess the Crest of Maurice...people call it the Crest of the Beast. Legend goes that Maurice, once a hero and one of the Elites, became possessed by his Crest and slaughtered innocent people.
[ The current infection digging its claws into people making them do the unthinkable is like a nightmare come true. ]
My blood is a curse that may turn me into a monster. My family was hounded for it and all I could do was isolate myself from people. Maybe I should have stayed that way... That's why you should be vigilant, even of me.
What reason would there be for a Crest to work so differently from one person to another? Yes, of course they all function in different ways - Claude, for example, considers his own to be far worse than Dimitris enviable and nigh unlimited strength - but none change them at the core of who they are. It's an extra power. That's all. He finds himself wishing that Hanneman or perhaps Linhardt were here so that he could pick their brains about such matters, instead of relying on his own admittedly hazy recollection of Crest science.
He can't say that what Marianne is saying is false either. Not after everything he's seen and done. Nothing is too outlandish to be real, at the end of the day. But the look on Marianne's face, the way that he can see her fear and discomfort, makes him want to reassure her.
It also explains a lot about her. Her timidity, her fear, her aversion to people; it's always gone far beyond your run-of-the-mill shyness, though Claude had never truly figured out why. ]
It shouldn't have stayed that way, so enough with any of that talk, [ Claude says promptly. ] Any one of us could wind up doing horrible things, with or without our heads screwed on straight, and that's no reasonto isolate anyone.
[ That's the easy bit. Next is tougher. ]
...you say that legend has it that this Maurice guy went ahead and slaughtered a bunch of people, right? But has this ever been seen to happen in anyone with your Crest after that? It runs in the family. Surely you'd know if your grandmother, or great grandfather had succumbed to that sort of thing.
[ Marianne eventually musters the courage to look back up at Claude. There's no hint of fright or disgust in his expression as she had feared there might be, and for that, she's relieved. ]
I - I don't know. My parents didn't much talk about them, but my father told me it was better for us to isolate ourselves.
[ She can still remember him taking her by the shoulders and telling her solemnly about their family secret. He shared her anxious eyes and reserved demeanor and had wanted only to do his duty and live a quiet life in the countryside. That was, until... ]
Then...one day they disappeared. They were never found, so I always worry, what if...?
[ No notes, no bodies, leaving not a trace except the scar in their daughter's heart. She had prayed to the goddess every day and received no answers. How could she not fear the worst? ]
[ More than anything else, Claude feels a twinge of annoyance at Marianne's parents -- her birth parents, the ones who had gone tragically missing, the ones he knows damn well he's not allowed to say a cross word about. But what sort of parents damns their child with a lifetime of fear of themselves without having any proof? Just fanciful tales and embellishments on old stories, an overreliance on the same damn religion that seems to guide the very fate of Fodlan and certainly guides Marianne's spirit.
He is reminded, unbidden, of the Marianne he had met when the world had twisted around them. He can't shake it. Her fear, her loyalty to her cause, her unwillingness to look outside of it. He can't say for a fact that the same thing is happening here, but the idea of young Marianne locked away, trembling in fear, curdles in his gut. ]
I'm sorry for your loss, Marianne. Truly, I am. And I don't mean to besmirch your parents' memory, but... all I'm hearing is that there is no evidence for it.
[ He crosses his arms. ]
I'd be far more scared of you losing your mind as you are than you turning into a monster. I've seen the sort of things you're capable of on the battlefield. [ He's being wry -- but then again, he's not lying either. Any one of them are arguably more lethal as they are than as the beasts so many had been twisted into, marauding across the battlefield with nothing but brute force at their disposal. ]
[ Her belief in her parents' fate has always been construed from feelings rather than any sort of evidence, and her eyes widen as she considers the new angle. She wants to believe Claude, to feel as certain as he feels. It would be a weight off her chest to know her parents weren't doomed to the horrible fate of wandering Fódlan as beasts. Marianne closes her eyes. ]
I only wish for their souls to rest with the goddess. If what you say is true, I would be relieved.
[ A pause, and then she asks quietly. ]
Are you not...frightened of me? Crest scholars and villagers have hounded my family once they learned of our blood. I can feel it when I'm in battle. The power my Crest gives me also urges me to destroy. Does it not scare you to have such an ally?
[ He speaks so wryly about her battle prowess, but what if that was in part due to her curse? ]
No. No, I'm not frightened of you, Marianne. I'm frightened of people who live their lives without regard for others, who will hurt others on purpose because they wish to, who will reach for a sword before even attempting to wag their tongue. I'm frightened of people who are purposefully cruel, or who will shun others on no basis -- like the fear of a perfectly innocent person on the basis of their birth.
[ He crosses his arms, leaning against the wall as he regards Marianne. To him, this sounds like a neurosis, one hammered in early on in life, a baseless fear, a fairy tale. But he can hear from Marianne's tone that this is nothing of the sort for her; this is a secret she's held as closely to her chest as he holds his own.
Out of fear. Still, she praises the Goddess, even though her and this wretched Crest system is the whole reason behind her suffering. It makes him sick. ]
Why would I be frightened of someone who feels the instinct to hurt, and decides to heal instead? [ He says decisively. ] I don't believe it. I don't believe that you will turn into some monster, nor do I believe that you're cursed. But if you do, Marianne... [ He reaches out, presses his fingers to her wrist, forcing her to look him in the eye. ]
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expiationlogs2024-07-15 08:13 am
no subject
... I've been keeping a secret for some time now. If there's a chance of me becoming someone different, now or in the future, I think you should know. That way, you'll be able to protect yourself.
[ Even if she's remained free of Gnosia infection this time, it doesn't mean there won't be another trial in the future, another chance of losing herself. She won't let him be blindsided, because Claude is a dear friend to her and the sharpest person she knows. He'd be able to spot any changes in her. He'd be able to protect himself and others. She trusts him to know what to do, so rather than trepidation, it's with a sense of deep faith that she finally arrives at this moment. ]
It's about my Crest. I don't have an ordinary one.
no subject
[ Claude has done a good deal of research on Crests back home -- he had to to understand the basics of Fodlan's polite society, quietly cursing his mother for neglecting him to tell him the very tenets on which her home was built upon. He pauses, wracking his brain for what Marianne's Crest is. It occurs to him that he hasn't got the faintest clue. He'd known she must have a Crest for Lorenz to... well, be Lorenz about it, but no more than that. ]
No Crest seems ordinary to me. But... go on. What's so different about your Crest?
[ She seems to hold the belief that it does something terrible to her. He can't deny that as a possibility, the science behind crests still a strange, archaic thing to him, but even so, he has difficulty believing it.
Still. He'll hear her out. ]
no subject
When I enrolled at the academy, my adoptive father asked for it to be kept unknown. That's because I possess the Crest of Maurice...people call it the Crest of the Beast. Legend goes that Maurice, once a hero and one of the Elites, became possessed by his Crest and slaughtered innocent people.
[ The current infection digging its claws into people making them do the unthinkable is like a nightmare come true. ]
My blood is a curse that may turn me into a monster. My family was hounded for it and all I could do was isolate myself from people. Maybe I should have stayed that way... That's why you should be vigilant, even of me.
no subject
What reason would there be for a Crest to work so differently from one person to another? Yes, of course they all function in different ways - Claude, for example, considers his own to be far worse than Dimitris enviable and nigh unlimited strength - but none change them at the core of who they are. It's an extra power. That's all. He finds himself wishing that Hanneman or perhaps Linhardt were here so that he could pick their brains about such matters, instead of relying on his own admittedly hazy recollection of Crest science.
He can't say that what Marianne is saying is false either. Not after everything he's seen and done. Nothing is too outlandish to be real, at the end of the day. But the look on Marianne's face, the way that he can see her fear and discomfort, makes him want to reassure her.
It also explains a lot about her. Her timidity, her fear, her aversion to people; it's always gone far beyond your run-of-the-mill shyness, though Claude had never truly figured out why. ]
It shouldn't have stayed that way, so enough with any of that talk, [ Claude says promptly. ] Any one of us could wind up doing horrible things, with or without our heads screwed on straight, and that's no reasonto isolate anyone.
[ That's the easy bit. Next is tougher. ]
...you say that legend has it that this Maurice guy went ahead and slaughtered a bunch of people, right? But has this ever been seen to happen in anyone with your Crest after that? It runs in the family. Surely you'd know if your grandmother, or great grandfather had succumbed to that sort of thing.
no subject
I - I don't know. My parents didn't much talk about them, but my father told me it was better for us to isolate ourselves.
[ She can still remember him taking her by the shoulders and telling her solemnly about their family secret. He shared her anxious eyes and reserved demeanor and had wanted only to do his duty and live a quiet life in the countryside. That was, until... ]
Then...one day they disappeared. They were never found, so I always worry, what if...?
[ No notes, no bodies, leaving not a trace except the scar in their daughter's heart. She had prayed to the goddess every day and received no answers. How could she not fear the worst? ]
no subject
He is reminded, unbidden, of the Marianne he had met when the world had twisted around them. He can't shake it. Her fear, her loyalty to her cause, her unwillingness to look outside of it. He can't say for a fact that the same thing is happening here, but the idea of young Marianne locked away, trembling in fear, curdles in his gut. ]
I'm sorry for your loss, Marianne. Truly, I am. And I don't mean to besmirch your parents' memory, but... all I'm hearing is that there is no evidence for it.
[ He crosses his arms. ]
I'd be far more scared of you losing your mind as you are than you turning into a monster. I've seen the sort of things you're capable of on the battlefield. [ He's being wry -- but then again, he's not lying either. Any one of them are arguably more lethal as they are than as the beasts so many had been twisted into, marauding across the battlefield with nothing but brute force at their disposal. ]
no subject
I only wish for their souls to rest with the goddess. If what you say is true, I would be relieved.
[ A pause, and then she asks quietly. ]
Are you not...frightened of me? Crest scholars and villagers have hounded my family once they learned of our blood. I can feel it when I'm in battle. The power my Crest gives me also urges me to destroy. Does it not scare you to have such an ally?
[ He speaks so wryly about her battle prowess, but what if that was in part due to her curse? ]
no subject
[ He crosses his arms, leaning against the wall as he regards Marianne. To him, this sounds like a neurosis, one hammered in early on in life, a baseless fear, a fairy tale. But he can hear from Marianne's tone that this is nothing of the sort for her; this is a secret she's held as closely to her chest as he holds his own.
Out of fear. Still, she praises the Goddess, even though her and this wretched Crest system is the whole reason behind her suffering. It makes him sick. ]
Why would I be frightened of someone who feels the instinct to hurt, and decides to heal instead? [ He says decisively. ] I don't believe it. I don't believe that you will turn into some monster, nor do I believe that you're cursed. But if you do, Marianne... [ He reaches out, presses his fingers to her wrist, forcing her to look him in the eye. ]
I'll simply find a way to turn you back.