towerofanimus | You'll turn into a gargoyle at this rate

Entry tags:

You'll turn into a gargoyle at this rate

Characters: ProtoLancer

puppy_lancer and Zero Lancer

oathshackledbird; closed
Setting: Graveyard floor
Format: Prose
Summary: Lancer spent the entire event bumming on the graveyard floor. Time for someone to find him.
Warnings: Angsting, maybe

Lancer had lost track of time as he sat by Ayaka's grave. His days were filled with sitting there staring off into the distance and fighting off the occasional monster. His clothes were torn and his body covered in healing wounds. Maybe he would be able to sit here for the rest of his stay at the tower. Maybe some point some monster would catch him too cut up and exhausted to resist and kill him. He doesn't mind either. He doesn't care. He's just a failed Servant who shouldn't exist anymore, so anything that happens to him doesn't matter.

Now and then, a thought of his brother or his friends enters into the void that is his mind and he almost wants to leave his position to go and find them. But every time, he pushes the impulse away. They all have their own friends or Masters to keep them company. And he shouldn't bother them with comforting him. He can deal with his own failures.

And so he just sits there, immobile.

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"I'm no giving up!"

The words come out in a tone halfway between a growl and a whine.

"I'm watching her. I'll watch over her. And wait for her. Because...isn't that the only thing I can still do?"

"Of course it's not!" Diarmuid's voice is harsh, but low because even upset he is mindful of speaking of the Resistance in a place where the wrong ears may hear.

"You remember what I told you, don't you? Ruana says we have a year now. A year! There is a lot we have to do in a short time if we want to see ourselves freed and our worlds restored. Do you really think Ayaka would want you sitting here and waiting when you could be out fighting with those who are trying to fix things?" Diarmuid takes a hold of his brother's shoulders, a little less mindful of whatever injuries the man might have now and tries to make Cu Chulainn look at him again. "Do you really want to leave her--both versions of her--wandering alone on a dead world or do you want to fight and fix those worlds so that she won't be alone and that you can go back to the one you know?"

"Can we?

He looks up at Diarmuid. For the first time in the conversation, and for the first time for the entire month, his eyes seem to carry some of his old spirit.

However, after a few seconds, he turns his face away.

"No, not me. You can do it. You've been working so hard while I was just slacking off."

"Hey, don't look away from me like that," Diarmuid's voice suddenly becomes softer. He didn't miss that spark of life and he is not going to let it be snuffed out that easily. "Things are just starting. I am sure there are a lot of people who haven't been doing all they could or have wanted to do. The past doesn't matter. I want you to fight next to me. I need you to! There are a lot of people in this group that I don't trust just because I don't know them or their actions have made me questions their abilities. You I do not doubt. Not ever."

"Not...ever?"

He repeats. For some reason, these words bring up a mix of feelings inside him.

Grief, for knowing that he must have already disappointed his brother time and again.

Anger, at himself for being such a failure.

...Joy, for knowing that his brother still loved him and believed in him.

Before he knows it, he's reached out to pull his brother into a hug, never mind the fact that he's covered in blood and dust.

"If you really want that, then I'll...I'll try."

Diarmuid gladly returns the hug. After all, he has been wanting to hug his brother ever since he first saw him looking so forlorn, but he had been worried about hurting him. He doesn't worry about the blood or dust. What he is worried about is his brother.

"I do. I want it more than anything. You have been there for me from the very moment I woke up in this place. If I lost you..." Diarmuid knows he would somehow find a way to continue if this place sent his brother away. He would have to for Waver and how many others, but part of him would be dead inside and would never ever see life again.

Sacrificing your life for them is often not what they need from you.

Cecil had really been right with that one. In trying to destroy himself to prove his loyalty to one person, he had hurt someone else very important to him.

"You won't."

He doesn't even hesitate before making the promise.

He loosens one hand to pat the earth of the grave next to him.

"Can you sit and stay. For just a moment?"

That way, he can protect both his brother and his Master's grave.

Edited 2013-06-30 03:37 (UTC)

"I will sit and stay with you as long as you need me to," Diarmuid shifts and sits closer to the spot his brother has indicated. "However, as much as I know you probably want to stay here, you need to rest. Eating and drinking aren't really the most appetizing right now, but doing those things probably wouldn't hurt you either. At least getting something to drink." He falls silent for several moments before adding, "I don't know how much longer this odd feeling that staying in our rooms isn't safe will last, but maybe I can get you to come with me to Floor 100? I don't know if you visit it much, but it is always a comfort to me. If you would like to sleep for a little while in whatever comforting image it gives you, I will be glad to watch over you."

He shakes his head.

"I don't need it. Servant, remember? And I haven't felt tired either."

At least, not tired enough to sleep.

He clutches Diarmuid a little tighter.

"I don't wanna go up there. I want to stay here. I have to stay here."

Diarmuid holds his brother a little tighter, shifting is a way that can be taken as encouragement for the other servant to rest his head against his shoulder, "You are more than just a servant, brother. You are a person. How many times have you told me that? It's not that you need those things. It is that they will help you feel better.

"We can stay here if you wish, but you know we cannot stay here forever, right? Remember what we just discussed? We cannot fight the administrators by sitting here, and you know as well as I do that she is not here. She is back on her world and she is here." Diarmuid frees one hand so that he can lay it over his brother's heart, "When you go looking for her, you need not look any father than here for she will always be in your heart and in your memories."

He lays his head on Diarmuid's shoulder.

"My memories, huh?"

He runs the fingers of his free hand over the stone of the memorial.

"I remember...saying I would protect her."

He closes his eyes and winces. His numbness is fading, it seems.

"I couldn't do that. I guess my promises...really are hollow."

"Only if you are willing to give up on them that easily," Diarmuid's gaze hardens again, though his voice remains soft. "Do you really give up on your promises so easily, Cu Chulainn? I doubt that somehow. She might not be here for you to physically protect, but that doesn't mean your role as her guardian has ended. If you truly wish to keep your promises to both of them, then you must finish your mourning and move forward again. They may not be here, but they are still depending on your to keep those promises. You are the only one in a position to keep them from having to wander alone on a dead world for the rest of time."

Diarmuid carefully threads his fingers into his brother's tangled hair and tries to make the other servant look at him again, "Listen to me. There are many ways to protect people. Just because you can't do it in the usual ways doesn't mean you can't do it at all."

He opens his eyes to stare at Diarmuid.

"O-of course I won't! I want to protect them! And everyone else."

He gives a humorless, hysterical little laugh.

"But no matter how hard I work, everything only gets worse!"

He pulls away from Diarmuid.

"Look, I'm making you comfort me right now! Even when I was the one promising to protect you!"

For a moment, anger flashes in Diarmuid's eyes and even though he knows that he will regret doing it later--just as he had the last time he'd done it--he reaches out and punches his brother.

"That is enough! I am tired of it being okay for me to seek comfort when I need it, but not okay for you to do the same! You are just as human as I am and have just as much right as I do to hurt and find ways to ease that hurt! I have let you get away with this foolish double standard long enough!" Diarmuid's eyes narrow, "You do me the honor of calling me brother. It is time for me to start acting like one instead of acting as if I am some hero-worshiping fool. And it is time for you to stop acting like a child when you are a hero who never gave up! Do you want to help Ayaka? Then stop letting this place get the better of you and HELP her."

Lancer goes tumbling backwards from the force of the blow.

"Ow!"

He yelps. His face hurts. That punch, unlike everything else this entire month, actually registers in his mind as pain.

"T-the fuck!"

He struggles to get up, and suddenly it's not just his face. Suddenly every wound in his body seems to hurt at the same time. It's an unfortunate side effect of his sanity starting to return.

"Owowowoww..."

He ends up falling over in a whimpering heap.

"Uh...bro? I think I might need some help..."

Diarmuid sighs, but can't help smiling. He's not smiling at his brother's pain, but at how quickly he seems to have come back to himself. Still, Diarmuid is leery. He wants his brother to actually learn this lesson, not just blow it off like he has in the past.

Diarmuid moves over to crouch next to his brother, one arm carefully draped over his shoulders, "Welcome back. What can I do? Do you want me to help you to the infirmary or do I need to hit you a few more times to make sure you have learned your lesson first?"

"You've driven in the lesson well enough, Bro. No more moping around for me."

He looks up and grins.

"Or at least no more moping around when I can move again. Mind dragging me to the infirmary?"

"I hope for your sake I have. I do not like hitting you, but if I must to straighten your head out, then I must," Diarmuid gives his brother a serious look before letting his expression soften into something more amused. "I will not drag you to the infirmary. However, I will carry you. You have the choice of being slung over my shoulder or carried in my arms." He winks at the other servant, "Choose quickly or else I will just go with whatever strikes my fancy at the time."

"...I think I'll go with being in your arms. Don't quite feel like being upside-down right now. Just don't let anyone see, alright?"

Yep, he seems to be back to normal.

"Please. As fast as I am?" Diarmuid rolls his eyes and gathers his brother into his arms, careful to avoid jarring his wounds. "No one will see a thing. Just hang on and don't you dare throw up on me."

Once he is sure his brother is settled safely in his arms, he takes off down the stairs. Diarmuid doesn't bother to hold back his speed knowing that a fellow servant of the same class should be used to it and so it doesn't take long at all for them to make it to the infirmary. Once inside, he walks over to one of the tables and helps his brother sit on it.

Indeed, Cu Chulainn doesn't show much of an ill effect from the sudden speed.

"Alright, you can put me down now. I think I can make it to a bed on my own."

"Forgive me if I aid you so I have fewer wounds to help you with. I know your luck," Diarmuid helps his brother to one of the beds and waits for the other servant to settle before he steps back. "What do we need to deal with first? What are your most serious wounds? I don't suppose your runes might be able to help clean up some of this mess you've made of yourself?"

He sticks his tongue out at Diarmuid from his position on the bed.

"I'll use my runes. And then I'll tell you what I didn't have the energy to fix."

He props himself up with an arm and scribbles runes of healing. There'a pop and a flash and the next second, he falls back to his pillow, looking tired, but a lot more comfortable.

"That's most of the internal wounds taken care of. Legs still feel funny, though."

Diarmuid frowns at this news. Considering how important their legs are to how Lancers fight, this is not good news.

"What do you mean they feel funny?" Diarmuid steps closer again, ready to look over his brother's legs if it comes to that. "Does something feel broken? Are they numb?" His brother had walked a few steps so broken bones don't seem to be a likely answer, but considering the wounds he knows his brother has fought through in the past, Diarmuid is not counting anything out.

"Just pretty numb."

He shakes his head.

"I dunno, maybe I've just been sitting in one position for too long."

If Diarmuid looks closely, he'll be able to see that Cu Chulainn's left leg actually has a swollen ankle.

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