[ They're hunkered down in the apothecary, two guardian angels with a heavy task ahead of them. Marianne had transparently shared her role with Claude when it all began and breathed a sigh of relief when he had said the same. Still she feels ill at ease, not because she hasn't sat around a war room where they debated battle tactics against people she knew, but because the targets are fellow Chosen, friends and acquaintances and people stuck in a cruel game like them who had no choice but to play. She's hesitant to suspect anyone, being ruthless or pragmatic doesn't come easy to her. Moreover...she's sympathetic to the infected. She thinks she understands how they must feel, to have destructive impulses inside of them they can't control.
To keep her anxieties at bay she focuses on what she can do. Healing the wounded, keeping the animals taken care of, and now brewing a cup of tea to bring to Claude who had been poring over his work for some time now. She had chosen a brew of leaves with an earthy tone that reminds her of Almyran Pine - his favorite, and she now understands why. Perhaps it can provide him a sense of comfort in this time. ]
Um, how is it going? I brewed some tea. Would you like any?
[ Claude turns to her with a wan smile. ] Some tea would be lovely. Thank you.
[ He knows he's not concealing his stress well. In this case, he's not bothering to conceal it at all, foot tapping in impatience on the floor, mouth tight with anxiety. It would be madness to pretend as though this isn't just as distressing as it is. In war, at least fighting against old friends meant that they had willingly signed up for it, had known what was bound to happen either one way or another. But this? Friends with their minds seized from them? It's horrifying.
He closes his eyes as he breathes in its scent, savouring for a moment the warmth against his hand. He opens his eyes again. ]
How are you holding up? It seems like things are still pretty quiet out there.
[ She shakes her head in answer, sitting down across from him with a cup of her own, dark circles under her eyes. She hasn't been sleeping well, the insomnia that had plagued her in the past coming back with full force. It distresses her to see Claude agitated, too. She doesn't think she's ever seen him so on edge. ]
This illness is like none I've ever seen. What I fear is that it will make people start to accuse each other.
[ Traditional maladies could be dealt with using traditional methods, but the Gnos twisted the minds of its victims and pitted people against one another through deception. She knows how suspicion and paranoia can transform a community. So far, no one is knocking on doors naming names and waving pitchforks, but it's a worry always on the back of her mind. ]
Even if I told you I wasn't infected, how can you trust me?
That's what I'm trying to figure out. There has to be some way of deducing it, some sort of test. But everyone appears to be in their right minds, in possession of all of their memories, with no obvious physical changes to be seen. [ Claude drums his fingers against the countertop, thinking. He's admittedly playing directly into Marianne's fears; no sooner than her mentioning those accusations is he trying to consider an angle with which to levy those accusations at people.
But some part of him still believes he can think his way out of this. That there's some physical, mental, emotional cue for what's happening beyond watching someone turn homicidal out of nowhere. If there is one, he hasn't managed to find it. ]
Truth be told, Marianne, I went with my gut. [ He offers her a wry smile. ] Which isn't like me, I'll admit! But we have little else to go off of. I'm assuming that's what you did for me too.
I just...don't think someone like myself has the right to suspect anyone.
[ She's no good at telling truth from lie, and she didn't try. It wasn't gut feeling or anything like that, either. She simply chose to leave her fate in the hands of the goddess.
It frightens her though. For a long time, she thought she didn't care whether she lived or died, but that isn't the case anymore. She wants to live. She wants her friends to live. She wants to trust Claude and for Claude to trust her, no secrets between them... and it doesn't feel right to still be keeping one from him. ]
Even if something were to happen to me, I wouldn't blame you, or anyone. Claude...there's something I think I should tell you.
[ Claude pauses. He knows that Marianne is one of the most self-deprecating people that he knows. No matter what happens, she's somehow able to construe it as something that is her fault, her responsibility, her failing despite all evidence to the contrary. He knows that this is a tendency that runs deep within her, one that he half-suspects has to do with her piety (he has thought quite often of their stint in that other world, though he finds it too painful to linger on overly long), but to say something like that, in a time like this...
This really must be serious. He sets down his cup, brow furrowed in concern. ]
What is it? What's going on?
[ Is she actually Gnosia, and fighting her more base desires? It's the only thing he can think of. ]
[ 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
To keep her anxieties at bay she focuses on what she can do. Healing the wounded, keeping the animals taken care of, and now brewing a cup of tea to bring to Claude who had been poring over his work for some time now. She had chosen a brew of leaves with an earthy tone that reminds her of Almyran Pine - his favorite, and she now understands why. Perhaps it can provide him a sense of comfort in this time. ]
Um, how is it going? I brewed some tea. Would you like any?
no subject
[ Claude turns to her with a wan smile. ] Some tea would be lovely. Thank you.
[ He knows he's not concealing his stress well. In this case, he's not bothering to conceal it at all, foot tapping in impatience on the floor, mouth tight with anxiety. It would be madness to pretend as though this isn't just as distressing as it is. In war, at least fighting against old friends meant that they had willingly signed up for it, had known what was bound to happen either one way or another. But this? Friends with their minds seized from them? It's horrifying.
He closes his eyes as he breathes in its scent, savouring for a moment the warmth against his hand. He opens his eyes again. ]
How are you holding up? It seems like things are still pretty quiet out there.
no subject
This illness is like none I've ever seen. What I fear is that it will make people start to accuse each other.
[ Traditional maladies could be dealt with using traditional methods, but the Gnos twisted the minds of its victims and pitted people against one another through deception. She knows how suspicion and paranoia can transform a community. So far, no one is knocking on doors naming names and waving pitchforks, but it's a worry always on the back of her mind. ]
Even if I told you I wasn't infected, how can you trust me?
no subject
But some part of him still believes he can think his way out of this. That there's some physical, mental, emotional cue for what's happening beyond watching someone turn homicidal out of nowhere. If there is one, he hasn't managed to find it. ]
Truth be told, Marianne, I went with my gut. [ He offers her a wry smile. ] Which isn't like me, I'll admit! But we have little else to go off of. I'm assuming that's what you did for me too.
no subject
[ She's no good at telling truth from lie, and she didn't try. It wasn't gut feeling or anything like that, either. She simply chose to leave her fate in the hands of the goddess.
It frightens her though. For a long time, she thought she didn't care whether she lived or died, but that isn't the case anymore. She wants to live. She wants her friends to live. She wants to trust Claude and for Claude to trust her, no secrets between them... and it doesn't feel right to still be keeping one from him. ]
Even if something were to happen to me, I wouldn't blame you, or anyone. Claude...there's something I think I should tell you.
no subject
[ Claude pauses. He knows that Marianne is one of the most self-deprecating people that he knows. No matter what happens, she's somehow able to construe it as something that is her fault, her responsibility, her failing despite all evidence to the contrary. He knows that this is a tendency that runs deep within her, one that he half-suspects has to do with her piety (he has thought quite often of their stint in that other world, though he finds it too painful to linger on overly long), but to say something like that, in a time like this...
This really must be serious. He sets down his cup, brow furrowed in concern. ]
What is it? What's going on?
[ Is she actually Gnosia, and fighting her more base desires? It's the only thing he can think of. ]
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.