And I To Myself Am A Stranger [Closed]

[glassaxolotl]

Who: Dedue, Giles, Ossie, Erin
Where: Ossie’s cottage, Windjammer
What: Trial aftermath, Dedue making some apologies
When: Early January
CWs: Discussion of suicidal ideation, death, corpses



Dedue is still reeling from Darcy’s words. In that moment, he had realized how much of a hypocrite he was.

Everything he’d said about avenging the dead wasn’t really about that at all. It wasn’t even fully about Dimitri, was it? That didn’t explain the self-destructive actions, the need to push all the friends he’d made away. There’s a deep sense of unease in Dedue’s gut, and he stews more and more on it as he goes about his day. And the more he thinks, the more he realizes he knows exactly what he’d wanted in that moment.

From the second he’d seen Dimitri’s corpse, he’d wished it could be him instead. There was an emptiness that loomed on the horizon, and the only way to avoid facing it was to pursue a target with single-minded destruction. Because that is still all Dedue thinks his life is worth. If killing Skullduggery meant killing the entire crew, himself included, Dedue would have done it. He wanted to go to oblivion in a fight, knowing he had proven himself a useful weapon in the end.

That isn’t how the execution happened, but Ossie and Giles could sense this in him. They were right to be afraid, he now realizes.

Dedue had promised Dimitri that he would stop considering himself an object and start living as a person. That he would not throw his life away again. He has already failed.

He doesn’t want to be like this anymore.

And so, Dedue decides that he has some apologies to make.


Don’t Go To Bed With Strangers, Don’t Play With The Dead [Closed to Ossie and Giles]

There is a knock at Ossie’s cabin door. When the door is opened, Dedue bows low, hands on his thighs.

“I wish to apologize for my behavior at the trial. May I speak with the both of you?”


Always Keep Your Wits Sharp As An Axe Inside The Shed [Closed to Erin]

Dedue approaches Erin at Windjammer. She looks the way Dedue looked back at the start of the previous month. He doesn’t comment on it.

“May I sit with you?”

Comments

[crushed_pearls]

"Weird to say but I miss folks from my homeworld too." Erin's voice is distant, touched with a faint sense of wonder at herself. "Even Vickie for all that she hates my fucking guts. I didn't realize how much I was picking up from them until I got here without 'em."

[glassaxolotl]

“I agree. I did not realize how important they were to me until they were gone,” he says.

“Tell me about Vickie.”

[crushed_pearls]

"Well, speaking of Vickie that candy pile is yours. Be wary of any of 'em covered in dust, they're sour like an old miser. Delicious but it'll hurt."

Erin leans back in her chair. "...Vickie Reeds is a Darkling, someone whose master left a hole in her soul that can't be filled. She helped fight off my last client, and was there when Arthur decided to spare me. Didn't agree and still doesn't. Most folks know her as a lanky thing in love with knives, sharp and angry and deadly, but she's also deeply funny, fiercely loyal, loving in this aggressive way. Girl cooks whether you want her to or not, like some fucking were-grandma, and she's learning to play card games. Heads up the irregular combatants in New Avalon, makes sure they're trained and armed and ready to fight off people like I used to be if they come calling."

[glassaxolotl]

"You miss her but the two of you did not end things on amicable terms?"

He hesitantly takes a bite of the candy and then makes a sour face. "Too sweet," he grimaces.

[crushed_pearls]

"End, start, continue. Vickie Reeds hates me deeply and wishes every ill end fate can conceive on me. Can't blame her any more than I can blame you for not trusting me." Erin's expression goes wistful, and sad. "But she was bonded in friendship to Colors, who trusts me, and to others with more mixed opinions. Part of the community who took me in. She...Vickie values that. Push come to shove she'd fight to save my life and then, when I'm safe, only then, spit on me. I envy such commitment."

[glassaxolotl]

“Hm.” Dedue thinks, then adds, “That reminds me of some people I knew within the Blue Lions. Within battle, we worked well together, but outside of it...” He shakes his head.

“Colors is someone you would consider more of a friend?”

[crushed_pearls]

"...I love her." The admission is in such a small voice. Erin takes the entire sword off her back, sheath and all, and sets it on the table. She pulls about four inches from the sheath, revealing a spatha made entirely from stained glass, depicting great feats of the Aesir on its blade.

"This is Bifrost," Erin continues softly. "Colors used her to help give me back ownership of my body and soul. I dunno if she has feelings for me like I do for her, but...she treated me like a part of the community, when she didn't have to. And I won't ever forget that."

[glassaxolotl]

“She sounds very special to you,” Dedue says in a quiet voice, looking at the sword in awe. “I am sorry you cannot be with her right now.”

[crushed_pearls]

"I wouldn't wish this place on Colors, but...thank you." Erin sighs, runs her hand through her hair. "She had a bad time herself. Fell in with an evil king who exploited her loyalty. But Colors...she got out on her own. And I envy that."

[glassaxolotl]

“How did you get out?” he asks.

[crushed_pearls]

Erin's smile has no joy. "We hit lean times. Got desperate, and took a job we shouldn't have, which we didn't prepare for properly. Got our asses beat concave by a gentleman named Arthur, big guy, very thoughtful, and when he had me at his mercy, he begged me to be different instead of dead. I got lucky. I got help."

[glassaxolotl]

“So you were able to change because you had support?” he asks.

[crushed_pearls]

"Yes. But it started with Arthur seeing me as a fellow victim instead of a soulless monster." Erin looks away. "...I sure didn't see myself that way."

[glassaxolotl]

“You were continuing to do what you did because you believed it was all you were good for,” he says, half-question half-observation.

[crushed_pearls]

"Mmm..." Erin sighs and toys idly with a Jolly Rancher. "You're not wholly wrong, but no. It's all I thought anyone was good for, that I lived in a world of grasping vermin and I was just the biggest and the meanest of them all. Told myself if it wasn't me it'd be someone else, said they'd do the same to me, rejected love and kindness as crutches used to prop up the weak. Miserable way to live. I don't suggest it."

[glassaxolotl]

“Hmm. You are right,” Dedue sighs. “That does sound grim.”

He folds his arms. “Still. With or without help, you were able to break from that way of life. I do not think the fact that you had help makes you weak. It may have been a sign of change. From what you are describing.”

[crushed_pearls]

"Oh believe me, I don't think I'm weak either. My regrets are more about not...not taking opportunities which, in hindsight, were there a lot sooner. I hurt people for a very long time." Erin heaves a heavy sigh. "...So. Where do we go from here, Dedue? Back to our previous state of acknowledged suspicion?"

[glassaxolotl]

“I... I would like to trust you,” he sighs. “Or, to try to. I do find myself thinking of you as a friend.”

[crushed_pearls]

Erin flashes an understanding half-smile, full of sympathy. "Would like to, but I suspect there remain some obstacles. We're already getting personal, lay it on me. There's nothing you can say about me that's worse than what the voices in my head say about me."

(I dunno about that, we're terribly unoriginal.)

...Fuck you too head voice.

[glassaxolotl]

That catches Dedue off-guard. “The... voices?” he asks.

[crushed_pearls]

Erin taps her temple. "My people are...psychotic, in clinical terms; we see and hear things that are not what is actually, objectively there - or, at times, perceive the real reality in an unreal way. It's at its worst in times of great stress and change, but it's never absent. Before I came here the people who were helping me were...working on managing that, and now the little voice in my head that thinks my thoughts for me is three of 'em and one is a major fucking asshole."

(Still you.)

"Which is, objectively, still me."

[glassaxolotl]

Psychotic.

That word came up during the weed party, and he’s hearing it again now.

“The voices... Can they be different things? ...Such as ghosts?”

He shakes his head. “I apologize. We may continue our main discussion momentarily. But this is important to me.”

[crushed_pearls]

"There is no one form of psychosis. It's a condition of the mind, after all, not like any two people are alike. I tend towards auditory hallucinations, part of why my ears are always twitching...but yeah, they can be just about anything." Erin sighs. "People will tell you that crazy people don't know they're crazy. That's bullshit. If I'm looking at a painting and it starts talking to me, I know I'm fucking hallucinating. The trouble is like, if I walk into a library and it sounds like someone's behind me drawing a knife, y'dig? I tend to hear danger where there is none, almost like I lived a violent and dangerous life for ages and ages. Ghosts? Not all that weird as an idea."

[glassaxolotl]

That all sounds painfully familiar.

“Thank you for explaining this,” he lets out a sigh. “In Duscur, we had a word for people who receive visions, but the concept was not as detailed, and there is a romanticizing that does not match the fear and confusion you describe.”

“If you ever need someone to clarify if a sound is or is not there, I can assist,” he offers.

He thinks for a time, then asks, “Does it have to do with living in violent conditions?”

[crushed_pearls]

"Mmm..." Erin wobbles her hand. "It can? Some people are born psychotic, others develop it through trauma. Many people will experience psychosis temporarily for various reasons - a good blow to the head, drugs, extreme grief or stress. My people, we're just like this whether we were before or not, though the trauma certainly doesn't fucking help. We don't respond to medicines meant to treat these symptoms, but that's, y'know, my soul's fundamentally damaged, there's no pills for that. Conventional humans sometimes respond better to treatment, depending on the cause."

She pauses. "...Am I describing something you experience yourself, Dedue?"