towerofanimus | 002. ☾ Divisions

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002. ☾ Divisions

Characters: Diarmuid and Cecil
Setting: Floor 39, the gym.
Format: Prose.
Summary: The knights get better acquainted while reacting to the "PSA" passed around by Amberly and Commissar Cain.
Warnings: Diarmuid's blood tears, violence amongst new friends, anger management problems. Yup.

Cecil didn't know anything about the Imperium or who Commissar Ciaphas Cain was, but she got the impression from the flyers hung up around the Tower that they were not exactly the most friendly type, let alone the most forgiving. She supposed the... reservations whoever had put them up made sense to have; was it not an off-worlder who had plotted to take the Blue Planet by force from humans, dwarves, and eidolons alike? She could only guess that that meant these people also had suffered at the hands of "xenos", or what Cecil presumed meant non-humans, before, and she understood that. She did not blame them for that.

Still... it struck her as unwise to create more division among the residents of the Tower, given that everyone was trapped here, regardless of race or species. Wasn't it better to make peace with their differences and band together against the dangers than cause more strife and warring amongst themselves? The paladin thought so.

It didn't help her feel any better that she was stigmatized twice over in this matter. Half Lunarian and a magic-user, she was probably the last person this Commissar Ciaphas Cain and whatever Imperium followers he had present wanted to hear from, even if she meant them no harm. Cecil sighed and let the flyer flutter away from her as she watched it. There was a whole mess of them in any place that was safe, and it made her feel like she had nowhere to go for a reprieve from the oppressive atmosphere of the Tower.

Considering that her last attempt at training had led to an unexpected meeting, the lady knight decided to try again. This time, she chose a more practical space for her purpose and she wasn't disappointed when she came to the gymnasium floor. She didn't understand how one was supposed to use most of the machines that were set up, but it didn't stop her from inspecting them, albeit at a small distance, just in case.

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Cecil is quiet for a moment, mulling over Lancer and his supposed masks. Well, it doesn't seem farfetched to her. Granted, she doesn't know all that Lancer has been through in his life, let alone the details of this pain that Diarmuid speaks of, but if she thinks of him long enough, Lancer does remind her somewhat of a certain flirtatious ninja from home. Edge carried a lot of pain around too...

"That may be," she finally answers at length, "but that is what he has you for, isn't it?"

"I hope so..." Diarmuid suddenly looks unsure and somewhat worried. "I tell him he can talk to me, but I know he worries about me and my mental state. I won't lie. My stability has not been the best since I arrived here. I am trying to make it better, but this place is not very conducive to that kind of thing. I have talked to him about a lot of my problems...perhaps too much."

He suddenly looks away, ashamed, "We are from similar worlds, he and I and he...he was my hero growing up. As a result, I latched onto him perhaps more than I should have. Now he thinks he needs to be strong for me even when he is hurting. I'm trying very hard to make sure he talks to me now that I realize what I was doing. I can only hope it is not too late."

The young woman nodds understandingly. Listening to Diarmuid speak of Lancer in such a way causes her thoughts to wander back home again. She thinks of Rose and how the white mage never gave up on her when she was troubled about the crimes she committed as a dark knight. She thinks of Kain and the dragoon's often silent manner of coping with her emotions. Cecil cannot say it was always the right choice the dragoon made, considering what it led to recently, and so, she certainly knows how Diarmuid worries.

"He told me that he did not think he fit the ideal of a knight. But he was the first person I met here and he was the first person to offer me his friendship. He did not have to. Indeed, it would be easier to not offer friendship to every individual one meets in this tower. Those children you spoke of earlier... the ones passing out those advertisements for the Imperium and this... Commissar Ciaphas Cain, whoever he is, certainly believe so, at least. The fact that Lancer does not think that way in spite of his personal hardships is admirable. I do not think he would listen to you as your friend if he ever thought you were sharing them with him too much.

"He may not lean on you willingly as often as you wish he would or in the same manner that you wish he would, but that does not mean he doesn't depend on you. Sometimes... simply knowing that someone cares for you enough to test the walls you build up around yourself... is all the comfort that you need to continue moving forward."

Just the mention of those people again spikes Diarmuid's anger, but he pushes it back down, with a sharp laugh, "They called themselves heroes. They have no idea what a real hero is. No hero would create such divisions when it's obviously so detrimental to everyone! Maybe it would have been acceptable on their world, but this isn't that. It's not okay here."

He pauses, letting the rest of his anger bleed away. Diarmuid would rather talk about his roommate than those fools anyway. Even if the subject is a difficult one, "He thinks me a much more ideal knight. I...don't agree with him. We both have made so many mistakes and many of them were mistakes we had no control over. The world we come from really seems to enjoy creating heroes so that it can turn around and break them. He and I, we are equal really. We both did many things in our lives and made many mistakes. He won't let my mistakes change how he feels about me. I won't let his change how I feel about him. I really wish I could get him to understand that."

Cecil says nothing as Diarmuid muses over the mistakes he and Lancer have made in their respective lives. She remains silent because from his words, she gathers that those 'mistakes' were not as grave as her sins. Unlike them, she could have controlled the fate of many and yet she chose to follow a corrupt monarch and slaughter dozens in the name of Baron. Perhaps she had done so unwillingly, but still, she was weak and she committed those crimes of her own free will.

"...Give him time," she says finally at length. "He may trust in it one day. Change is a slow process. What matters is that it is a steady one."

"You sound like you speak from experience," Diarmuid looks up and meets her eyes. "Here I am telling you all about my problems but you were upset about something when I came in even if you denied it. After all you have done for me, would you please let me lessen your worries even a little bit? What was troubling you?"

The younger knight looks a little surprised to have the subject changed so bluntly and she sheepishly lowers her eyes to the blood staining the sleeve of her gambeson. Diarmuid doesn't strike her as someone who would judge her for her heritage, but she's still unaccustomed to thinking about herself as anything other than completely human. Now there's an entire legacy she never even knew was possible to have associated with her and the propaganda that upset Diarmuid so much has upset her for these personal reasons.

"I... Well, it was honestly the same matter that had angered you. I didn't see who was putting the papers up around the tower, but I saw the papers, of course. It was... disturbing. It's obvious I am a magic user, but I have also learned recently that my lineage is... more unearthly than I ever expected was possible."

"So they judge you doubly and they don't even know you," Diarmuid sighs and shakes his head. This is why their actions anger him so. So far, Cecil has shown nothing but noble intentions and kind actions yet those two would count her as evil as one such as Ganondorf just because of her magical skill and circumstances of birth.

How is that in any way okay?

"How much did my roommate tell you about what he and I are?"

Cecil is silent, her eyes downward cast. "So they judge you doubly and they don't even know you." It's true, yes, but...

"I suppose I can't bring myself to be very angry with them," she says quietly. "I will not lie and say I do not understand their fears, yet I feel pity for them still. It saddens me that they or their ancestors have suffered so much at the hands of those like myself that such prejudice is instinctive for them."

She shakes her head sadly, but says nothing more, choosing instead to focus on the question Diarmuid has posed to her. "What you are? He did not say anything. He only introduced himself as Lancer."

Diarmuid looks at her, admiration in his eyes, "You are a better person than I am. I cannot feel pity for them or even begin to understand them. All I can do is feel anger at their stupidity and worry for the potential harm that might come from it."

For a moment he falls silent, thinking, but instead of talking further about them he moves onto answering her question, "He and I are magical beings. Originally, we lived and died as heroes of our time. When we died, our souls were recorded onto something called the Throne of Heroes. It allows heroes to be called back to earth during times of great need or great danger. One of the times during which we were allowed to be called back was during a series of wars over an item called the Holy Grail. The Grail is suppose to grant the greatest wish of those who win it, both servant and master," he pauses and looks away for a moment before continuing. "That is not how it worked out. The grail, it's corrupt. And we servants are never meant to be more than tools no matter who we once were. Our wishes mean nothing..."

Or perhaps I am simply too weak... Cecil does not meet his eyes. After all, her own father was murdered by people such as these, was he not? Perhaps she should be angrier. She feels she should be at least...

She doesn't argue with him; she is grateful for the subject change.

"So that explains how you can summon and dismiss your weapon at will," she remarks with a subtle nod of acknowledgement. Now it makes sense to her. "You are a hero of legend and you serve others even in death, then. I am sorry that it seems to be for naught. That is regrettable. You and Lancer both deserve better."

"Yes, my weapons are literally part of me. That is why it was so hard for me to destroy my spear during the war. It was like cutting off one of my arms. However, it had to be done and I don't regret it in the slightest."

Diarmuid pauses suddenly, eyes dropping and voice softening, "I'm no hero, Cecil. Not compared to the others and especially not compared to him. Though not my will, I betrayed my lord. I took from him something that was his. What part of that is deserving of the title hero? None of it."

Took something that was not his? Cecil looks across their legs to Diarmuid and studies his face for a moment. He clearly holds onto a lot of guilt still for whatever it was, and while she cannot say she is entirely free of her own guilt, she wonders if telling some of her own story will ease his shame some.

"Everyone makes mistakes," she tells him. "You obviously are not free from remorse for your actions and I don't doubt that you have done your best since to atone for your wrongdoings. We cannot change the past; we can only change the future. You think me a better person than you, but as I said earlier, I, too, have done things I am ashamed of. You would not think so highly of me if you knew my past sins in detail. I betrayed my country. I failed Baron and her people by following a corrupt monarch."

Edited 2013-04-06 09:46 (UTC)

"I betrayed my lord and set the men who were like brothers to me at each other's throats. Even though I refused to fight any of them, how many died because of me? Because my lord's bride fell victim to my curse?" Diarmuid looks up at her, sadness in his eyes. "And you, you hurt people because you allowed yourself to hope your lord was doing the right things. Why do these things happen to us? Why does fate see fit to hurt us so when all we want to do is be loyal to our people and help them?

"I will not think less of you for what you did. Not when you are so much like me. You wish to make amends too, don't you? You are sorry for what happened, aren't you? You understand..."

"Curse?"

Cecil's brows stitch together as she meets Diarmuid eyes. There is nothing right about murdering innocents. I always knew that. She was loyal to the false Queen of Baron, yes, but it was not fate that harmed Mysidia and Mist. She chose to obey because the thought of betraying the woman who had taken her in as an orphan was too shameful. Diarmuid is a purer soul than she is, but she keeps her thoughts to herself.

"Everything I have done since my last sin has been for atonement's sake," she replies. "But there is no redemption to be found in simply doing what is right. If I could reset the lives I mangled forever, then perhaps I would be worthy of forgiveness."

He nods, eyes dropping away from her, "When I lived the first time, a spirit of youth and beauty gave me a gift. Any woman who sees my face falls in love with me. Here it is mostly inactive, but back then? It was always active and I could not control it. The woman who my lord was to marry saw me and fell in love with me. She placed a geis on me that forced me to take her away from him. I did admire her willingness to throw away her whole life for what she wanted, but at the same time she was forcing me to throw away my life as well."

Diarmuid closes his eyes for a moment as if lost in memory, then shakes his head, "So many people. We are all fighting to make up for those we have hurt during our lives. It make take forever to do, but as long as we try then their lives are not lost and they are not forgotten." He opens his eyes again, locking gazes with her, "There is another I have told this to, but it is no less true for you because of that. Those people may be gone and unable to do the things they might have, but as long as you remember them, they are not truly gone. Find a way to live for them, to do the things they might have done. Perhaps in that, you will find the peace you seek."

Again, Cecil is quiet, but this time, she does take his final words to her to heart. He's right and she knows it, but her soul has yet to agree that this is acceptable. She's lessened the burden her guilt weighs down on her, but she still regrets her war crimes most of all... and losing Kain is also unforgivable as far as she's concerned, even if Rosa never held it against her.

"'All that matters is what's inside us'," she says and drops her eyes from Diarmuid's warm gaze before closing them. His predicament reminds her vaguely of her dragoon friend; Kain also was forced to betray her friends against her will, just like he was. She doesn't see the sense in blaming Diarmuid for anything that happened, but she remembers how well saying so worked with Kain and bites her tongue.

"Perhaps we will find peace."

"We will," He reaches out, gently touching her face hoping it will coax her to open her eyes and look at him again. "Even if it is a long, painful road, if we set our minds to reaching its end, someday we will. And that should be our goal, because if we find peace that means those who we hurt will have found it as well since none of us will be a peace until that is done.

"I think this is why I am fighting so hard to help everyone here. This chance to find peace...it is one I should not have had. Even if this place is terrible, there is a reason I am here instead of having been erased when I died during the war. I will do my best not to waste this chance for I may not get another."

The touch receives its intended reaction and Cecil does meet his gaze again, listening to him intently. She gives a small, shy smile, the emotions in it subdued because of how shaky they are, but she does believe him. She wants to believe him at least and at this point, she can't afford to turn away any hopeful outlook on their life in the Tower.

"I understand," she answers, happy to find she truly does mean it, but she still makes an effort to change the subject: "How are your eyes? Do they hurt in any way?"

"My eyes?" Diarmuid reaches up to touch at his eyes, confused by her question until he suddenly realizes what she means. As he does, his face flushes in embarrassment. His hand drops away and he shakes his head, "My eyes are fine. It's not that they are hurt. They just do that when...when I am very upset or angry. Ever since I was betrayed and lost myself to rage...

"It's disgusting, isn't it? One more sign that I'm not right..."

"No," Cecil replies with a shake of her head. "It does not repulse me. I don't think it is a sign that you are corrupted or warped. I only worry that it hurts you. I can see that it does, but I cannot help with the emotional pain. I can only help with the physical pain and I was concerned that it hurts when the blood passes through your tear ducts."

"The only pain is the emotional pain," Diarmuid brings his hand to his eyes for a moment, before letting it drop back again. "As horrible as it looks, there is no actual pain in my eyes. It is just as if I am crying normally, except that I'm not." He looks at her, confused, "How can it not repulse you? It repulses me. I hate it. It's just another reminder of how I was betrayed... How I failed..."

The paladin shrugs, blinking a little in disbelief at his question. "Because all I saw was a noble man in a great deal of pain," she says matter-of-factly. "How can I find someone else's hurt repulsive? It's too cruel, isn't it? To see someone else's suffering and feel disgust... I suppose I find it heartless to do."

He smiles slightly, "You are right, of course. It is just a shame not everyone can see passed the action to the pain that is its cause. I thank you for that and for all of your help and kindness today. I don't know if I can ever repay you, but I want to try. If you are ever in need of aid, please come looking for me. I will be glad to give it."

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002. ☾ Divisions

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