[001] 'Cause you won't rewrite history to commemorate the likes of me

[goldenherd]

WHO: Claude von Riegan
WHERE: The no-good very bad arrival labyrinth, a random side-street
WHEN: July 2nd, or like, whenever really
WHAT: Claude aggressively masks his way through a nervous breakdown
WARNINGS: Violence, discussion of character death and feelings of guilt/trauma surrounding that, racism/xenophobia, jaywalking

1. The Labyrinth

Claude's not really expecting to wake up. He's not a religious man, and even if he were, the faith he grew up with had a lot more to say about returning peacefully to the land than any notions of a conscious, waking afterlife like some sects of the Church of Seiros seemed to believe. And he is dead, he's sure of it. The last thing he remembers is kneeling next to his mortally injured wyvern while Teach stood over him with the Sword of the Creator in hand, raised up like an executioner's axe. That's not the kind of thing a person walks away from.

He shudders, lying in the grass and admittedly a little scared to open his eyes. Raising a shaking hand, he presses it to his shoulder and finds it uninjured, despite distinctly remembering one of Bernadetta's arrows finding its mark there. Huh. Come to think of it, he isn't in any pain at all right now - aside from the fact that he seems to be lying on top of his quiver, which is really more uncomfortable than actually painful. Sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth, he sits up and, bracing himself, opens his eyes to see... a castle?

No, not just any castle. A monastery. Garreg Mach Monastery, in full bloom of spring, as it had been when he'd first set foot there some six years ago. The patch of grass he's found himself in is the lawn outside the classrooms, still decorated with the livery of the Kingdom, the Empire, and the Alliance. He frowns. Hadn't Edelgard started using this place as a base of operations? Had they simply knocked him unconscious and brought him here to be healed, for some reason? He guesses they could be assuming he had some valuable information to give them, on what might be left of the Alliance's resistance, or... elsewhere, but why dump him outside, with no supervision in sight? And, more confusingly, why leave Failnaught lying right next to him?

Frowning, he picks up the heavy, intricate bow, expecting it to judder unsettlingly to life in his hands, but it doesn't. There's none of the lightness and thrum of energy he's accustomed to feeling when he touches it, no subtle red glow or flexing of its spines. He's only just starting to contemplate why that is when he sees a flash of bright pink hair out of the corner of his eye, disappearing into the old Golden Deer classroom.

"Hilda?" He calls out without thinking about it. But no, that can't be her. He saw her fall, helpless to do anything from up in the sky on wyvernback. Whoever it is, though, is the only person he's seen so far, so he gets to his feet and follows after, only to find -

All of them. They're all here. Lorenz, Leonie, Raphael, Ignatz, Marianne, Hilda, Lysithea, standing with their backs to the door but unmistakably themselves. Claude swallows hard, trying to keep a level head. This could be some kind of trick. It has to be. Half of them are dead, and the others are scattered to the winds. There's no reason for them all to be here.

He wants to say something witty. Greet them like it's nothing, like he isn't tearing himself apart wanting it to be real but not trusting it to be. Lorenz speaks, though, before he can come up with anything.

"Disgraceful," he says, still facing away. "I knew you were unfit to lead all along, but this? It's utterly shameful."

Oh. Well. That's to be expected. Claude swallows hard. "Yeah? But tell me how you really feel, Lorenz," he says, but there's no bite to it, no playfulness. Just exhaustion.

"This is no time for jokes, Claude," says Ignatz, reproachful and sad. "If that's even your real name?"

"You lied to us," Lysithea adds before he can cut in, scornfully. "You've been lying to all of us since the day we met."

"We would've followed you anywhere." Raphael's broad shoulders sag, but neither he nor any of the rest of them look at him, all facing the front of the class. "Some of us followed you to the end. And you lied about everything."

"You guys, I -" Claude chokes, unsure of what to say. A part of him knows by now that this isn't real - can't be real, but it's not enough to keep him from feeling every accusation like a knife to the heart. Especially not when Hilda speaks up, her voice colder than he's ever heard it before.

"If I'd known you were one of them -" and the word drips with a visceral disgust as she says it. Them. Lower than the lowest of vermin. "I would've never listened to you." The others murmur their assent, some more hesitant than others but all in agreement.

"You shouldn't have listened to me," Claude admits, quietly. "Maybe you would've lived, if you hadn't. I'm sorry." It feels hollow, saying that. But it's all he can offer.

2. A Random Street

By the time he makes it out of the labyrinth, night has fallen over the city, making it that much more overwhelming to step into suddenly. Claude has never seen this much glass in his life, much less buildings this tall or lights so bright, and he gawks up at the glittering windows against the black sky while trying to make sense of it all. Thankfully the street he's on is a fairly quiet one, because in the process of trying to estimate how tall some of these buildings are he wanders off the sidewalk and into the street.

"What is this place?" he asks himself, squinting up at a distant point of light like a very slow, blinking shooting star as it crosses the sky. He's just craning his neck to watch it as it disappears behind a building when something very fast, very shiny, and very large zips past him, swerving to avoid hitting him and making a loud, terrible noise as it does so. A man leans out the window on the left side and shouts at him.

"Watch where you're going!"

"It's everybody's road!" Claude shouts back, though by then the thing's already disappeared around the corner. He sighs, shaking his head, and wanders over to a nearby stoop, sitting down on the steps and pulling the little glass rectangle and accompanying booklet that he found out of his pocket, propping Failnaught up on the wall next to him. Might as well try to figure this thing out while he's got nothing else to do. The booklet says that to activate the thing - a "phone," apparently, you just have to press your thumb to the surface. Which he does, to... absolutely no effect.

"Huh," he says, brows furrowing slightly.

(It doesn't occur to him yet that his thick leather gloves might be getting in the way.)

Comments

2

[laminae]

Fern likes to wander around the city at night. It's a vast difference from the grassy hills of Ooo, and he thinks it's pretty all lit up. Getting to see a human city that hasn't been ruined by the apocalypse is something he never thought he'd experience, so he wants to make the most of it.

Watching some guy nearly get hit by a car wasn't on his plans for that evening, but it's all good. He looks like he needs some help, and more importantly, that bow is really cool.

So there's one (1) grass kid wandering over, looking curious. "Dang dude, that bow is sick!"

[goldenherd]

By this point Claude's sort of braced himself for some of the weirder denizens of this city, so this time he actually manages to refrain from gawking at the green boy who wanders over to him after the initial once-over he gives everybody. Still, that's definitely something he's going to want to ask about later.

"Yeah? Thanks, it's a family heirloom." To put it one way. "You can take a closer look, if you want. Just be careful not to touch it - it's been acting weird since I got here and I'm not sure what it'll do if anyone who isn't me tries to hold it."

Given that it seems to have lost all of its power and won't even respond to him, it's very probably that nothing would happen, but he doesn't really want to take the chance that it's just gone dormant and is waiting to lash out or something.

[laminae]

The lack of gawking is appreciated. Thankfully, there hasn't been very much of that, since the majority of residents in the city don't see his actual grassy nature.

He refrains from touching the bow, but makes a beeline over to it to give it a closer look since he's allowed to, letting out a low whistle. He's impressed, and he really wants to see this thing in action sometime.

"Really? Whatcha mean by weird?" He asks curiously.

[goldenherd]

It's an impressive, intimidating affair, strangely organic-looking with a red-brown stone set above the grip - a crescent moon design carved into its surface. Claude gives it a slightly worried look, frowning.

"It's a little hard to describe, but it's usually a lot... livelier than this. Glows when I hold it, adjusts to what I'm trying to do as I do it, things like that. Now, though, it's just dead weight. It's like all the magic's gone out of it - which would mean you could probably touch it and be fine," he admits. "Buuuuut, I still wouldn't take the chance. Relics like this can be kind of territorial."

[laminae]

"Hmmm." Fern listens quietly to that explanation. That sounds familiar to him. "When I first showed up here I felt a lot weaker. Like I couldn't do most of the weird grass junk I could back home," he replies, hoping this helps. "It's been coming back, but it's been real slow."

He finally pulls his gaze away from the bow. "Could be something to do with this universe having lame rules."

[goldenherd]

"Could be," says Claude, frowning at Failnaught thoughtfully. Truth be told, the thing's always kind of unnerved him a little - especially after hearing what its cousin, the Lance of Ruin did to Miklan Gautier - but seeing it so still and inert is equally troubling. Hopefully he won't need to call on its powers here any time soon. Or at all, really, if he's being honest.

"I'm glad to hear you're getting stronger again, at least - but do you mind if I ask about the 'weird grass junk'? What sort of things could you do, that you couldn't do here?"

[laminae]

That is an excellent question, and Fern grins at the chance to talk about his cooler powers. Maybe not the shapeshifting (definitely not the shapeshifting), but he's got something else in mind. Holding up one hand, he forms a blade of grass form his palm into a sword.

"I can make swords!" He says happily, slicing at the air. "Usually I can make a ton of 'em, but here I'm stuck with just one. I gotta hope it isn't permanent, 'cause more swords is always better."

[goldenherd]

Always good to see someone excited to talk about this kind of thing. Claude knows the subject of power and magic can be a touchy one, so he's glad to see the kid so excited to show off, and not just because it makes getting answers from him about his powers easier. He jolts a little when the sword grows to full size, but grins, watching the boy's form. He does seem to know what he's doing, to Claude's partially-trained eye.

"That does seem pretty convenient," he says. "Much better than having to haul a weapon around or worry about getting disarmed. Can you make anything else, or is it just blades of grass?"

(He looks maybe a little too pleased with himself for the pun.)

[laminae]

Normally, Fern is thrilled to talk about weaponry. He could do it for hours, and he'd love to talk about the bow that's right in front of him and his grass swords.

But hearing that stupid pun makes him remember his last encounter with his creator, the Grassy Wizard, and what he had said. Why he had made the Grass Sword to being with. All for that stupid, stupid pun.

Fern hesitates, the sword disappearing back into his palm. Lowering it, he rubs his hand. "Just the grass swords. I, um. Used to be a grass sword. So it makes a weird kind of sense that I can still make 'em."

[goldenherd]

That hesitation and sudden loss of enthusiasm isn't lost on Claude, and his expression immediately turns apologetic.

"Sorry. You probably get that one way too often, in that case," he says, though he gets the impression there's a lot more to it than that. As much as he likes needling people, it's no fun if he's pressing on actual old wounds instead of just sore points.

"Anyway, I guess it does. You looked like you knew what you were doing with that one just now, too. I'm not much of a swordsman myself, but I know enough to recognize good form. Where'd you learn?"

[laminae]

"Just once, from a huge jerk," Fern replies sullenly, kicking at a stray pebble on the sidewalk. It's definitely a sore spot, and he knows it's a really stupid sore spot that shouldn't bother him, but he's glad the guy is picking up on it.

"I just kinda grew up with it," he says, happy to change the subject. "I've used a sword for as long as I could hold one. You some kinda bow expert with this thing?" He gestures at the bow. "Where'd you learn?"

[goldenherd]

Must've been a pretty phenomenally huge jerk, to get that kind of reaction. Claude lets it rest, though, not wanting to try to dig too deep before he's even introduced himself. His easy smile returns, and he nods.

"Archery's been sort of my thing as long as I can remember," he says. "It's a bit of a rite of passage on both sides of my family, so my parents were pretty invested in me doing well at it. Thankfully I took to it quickly, though I can't take all the credit. I did have an excellent teacher."

And he thinks of Nader, who he thankfully managed not to get killed in his stupid quest to try to preserve the Alliance. He should be well on his way home, by now, defeated for the first time since Claude could remember. A twinge of melancholy crosses his face as he realizes that Nader will probably have to be the one to deliver the news to his parents, but he gets his smile fixed back in place and hopes that this boy either doesn't notice or doesn't ask.

"Anyway, I should introduce myself. I'm Claude. It's nice to meet you."

[laminae]

"Oh wow, so you're a huge bow guy. That's cool!" He replies, eyes wide. That's some serious archery life right there, and Fern looks very impressed. While his mother always preferred using the crossbow Fern can't say he's an expert in it, and he's already wondering if he could get some archery lessons from this guy.

Fern notices the shift in Claude's expression, and he raises an eyebrow. "I'm Fern. Nice to meet you, too. And I'm guessing you're new around here? You don't usually see people with sick weapons just hanging out on the street."

[goldenherd]

Claude pointedly does not elaborate at that raised eyebrow, pretending not to see it.

"Thanks! And yeah, I just walked out of my labyrinth a few hours ago," he says, shuddering a little bit, for effect. "Definitely not somewhere I'm thinking of visiting again any time soon. But you're right, I've noticed most people around here don't seem to be armed, at least not visibly. I haven't even seen any city guards or knights or mercenaries wandering around, which I'd think would be kind of unusual for a city this size. Maybe we're just in the wrong part of town at the wrong time of night for that, though."

[laminae]

Fern grins at being right, even though it isn't exactly an accomplishment. It's pretty obvious the guy is a newbie. "Nah, this is how it mostly is. They got cops here instead of knights and junk, but that's all. I think people are just really well-behaved in this universe."

[goldenherd]

"Huh, okay," says Claude, brows furrowing slightly as he thinks that through. There must be some kind of reason for there being less need - less want? less availability? - of weaponry for as many people here, but that might be something he has to look into later. "What's a cop, though?"

He can guess well enough from context that it's probably something like a knight, but the word is unfamiliar to him, and he figures it's better to know the specifics rather than just let it slide.

[laminae]

Oh, yeah, that question makes sense. Not everyone is going to be from a world that has those. "Kind of like a guard, but a lot less cool," Fern answers helpfully. "They keep people safe around here, take care of criminals, that kind of junk. They got blue and black uniforms and the cars they drive around in have big lights and sirens, you can't miss 'em."

[goldenherd]

"Makes sense," says Claude, making a note to keep an eye out for blue and black uniforms. Not that he intends to start getting up to anything criminal right away, but it's a good thing to be aware of. "Kind of wonder what makes them different enough from guards that they need a different word, but the answer to that's probably less interesting than I think it's going to be. Anyway, I guess walking around with this," he nods to his bow, "does make me pretty conspicuous, in that case."

Maybe he shouldn't be wandering around heavily armed in the middle of a city? But it's not like he has anywhere to put it that he'd feel comfortable leaving it behind, just yet.

"Hey, quick question," he says, that thought reminding him of something. "A few people have mentioned that there's an organization here that helps those of us who've found ourselves here unexpectedly find places to stay. Would you happen to know anything about that? It's getting kind of late, and I figure I should start figuring that out sooner rather than later. I've had a long day."

What with the losing a war and dying and all.

[laminae]

It's always a smart move to know what law enforcement looks like when you've been dumped into a whole new world. Fern grins and nods a little when Claude gestures towards his bow. "Yeah. Sometimes I get funny looks when I make a sword."

He hasn't gotten into any trouble, but for regular people who see Fern as a regular person, him forming a sword out of nothing is pretty bizarre.

"Oh, uh yeah! Zodiac, or whatevs?" He replies, scratching his head. "I don't really know their deal but I think they got jobs you can do and they'll pay you? I haven't really looked into 'em, but I don't think they're evil or anything."