[when it's night, and the Temple should be sleeping, that's when Merlin knows it's a good time to train some. it's not like something worse than sickness feels like it will be happening, but he doesn't want to grow rusty - nor does he wants everyone just yet to know his capacity. call it an aura of mystery, call it being contradictory. but the fighting ring is away from the general center of things, so he figures he'll have some time to himself.
his cloak and outer layers he leaves folded up where they won't get dirty, leaving him in his sleeveless undershirt. his staff as well stays there after he withdraws the sword that hides within it. these dummies might not be exceptional opponents, but they fight back, and that's all he needs. alone, he can concentrate, let his blade talk for him. if someone was to see him, they'd see his face solemn in its concentration, his moves quick. this is a man accustomed to handling a sword - someone who fights not for pure joy, but to win. to battle, for life.
if something worse is to come, he'll need to keep his own head on his shoulders.]
he hates sleeping. he always has. his designated purpose here is to protect these people.
or maybe the truth is that the prospect of being forced to witness the world die, bit by bit, just as it did before haunts him.
so he gets up, blade in tow, dressed down to his pants, hair tied up and tightened until it has no chance of sweeping across his shoulders. the iron of his boots sift against the ground. there's a figure, familiar, graceful—
...
nier doesn't speak. instead, he watches. he gets a feel for his movements. there is purpose in his stance. he is firm in how he carries himself, and he can see it flicker in his eyes, the way he envisions an opponent that does not exist, something to concentrate his energy towards.
of course, he's never been much of a spectator. so he enters the ring, arms behind his head. ]
...People make for better practice than dummies do.
[ his features are hard, but he cants his head the slightest bit — like it's a proposition. ]
[Nier's voice cuts through the sound of fighting, registers to him, but Merlin doesn't respond immediately. instead, he blocks the blow that the dummy is sending him and counters, before he holds his hand up.]
That's enough.
[light, but there's not a request in it. instead, it is a command solid enough that the dummies back off, and Merlin can look to Nier.]
...Can't sleep, Nier?
[of course people make better practice. but he has his reasons - he always does. his own hair hangs loose, but it doesn't seem to bother him - somehow, it wasn't getting in the way.]
[ he folds the sheets delicately. they're set atop the bed, hands moving to smooth them out with a few strokes of the palm. there's a quilt, intricately woven and red, that is draped right across those lofty layers of cotton and fabric. ]
This is your bed. The winter hasn't ended yet, so you'll need to keep warm at night.
[ frisk has been watching nier make this bed closely. they're committing every little thing to memory, filing it away for later use. there is going to be a day where they make nier's bed and neither of them will be ready for it. this is because frisk has baby hands and the coordination of a ten year old, and thus will not do a good job.
anyway. ]
'Kay.
[ this sense of being immediately cared for isn't new to them, so there's a quality of nostalgia here. it doesn't help that nier's hair is as white as toriel's fur. ]
What if it's still cold under my blankets.
[ is there even heating here... frisk has no idea. if there's a thermostat, they're too short to see it. ]
[ hmm... this is solid. they stop to imagine all the scenarios in which they might not tell nier, but probably, if they have to, they'll just get in bed with him. for some reason, nier's bed seems warmer.
eventually, they nod, understanding. ]
I already have a sweater.
[ they do have shorts on, admittedly. but their booties are still boots! frisk stands on one foot, holding their leg out so that their shoe is easy to see. ] And I have... boots.
[ said boots go up to their ankles. they're not doing much in terms of warmth. ]
[ whatever nier thinks frisk is doing is exactly the opposite of what frisk is doing. in their head, a sick beat is playing as they crawl around under the sheet, exploring every nook and cranny of the cot, mapping it out, traversing it like a grand journey. this is more epic than the lord of the rings. however, frisk would make a good hobbit. ]
...
[ they stop at the sound of his voice. ]
...
[ ...
the edge of the blankets move, and frisk's head pops out. their hair is a complete mess. ]
[ he remembers some things, not all. hardly enough to be called pieces, but faces are there. voices, too. words if he can understand the voices. the days spent in the maw of the ship remain mostly out of reach, but the darkness did not give much to begin with.
he remembers this face.
he approaches, with all the awkwardness of the recently dead. ]
I must thank you for your efforts on the mission. And for the hindrances I caused the team, I apologize.
[guess who's befriended the person who runs the thrift store? Merlin, because you give him an opportunity to be nosy and pry where he shouldn't, and he will take it. and also, he's offered to try out this one magical item for the shopkeep, so they know whether to advertise it as working or no better than a paperweight.
honestly, it'd be funny to see if this works on Nier.
so the next time they cross paths, Merlin has a question for him.]
[ nier tilts his head curiously, a brow raised. adjusting to the weight of his horns has been an ordeal, and it...certainly makes the general head tilt harder to pull off. ]
I'm counting the days as best as I can, but it's hard to most days. I miss you, but I want you to know that I am okay. I think a lot about all the stories you told me before and that makes me feel better!
Oh... speaking of days: happy birthday! I bet you are so much taller now!! When I see you again, I'll give you a very, very big hug! I promise you that I'm being good, so you don't have to worry about me.
I'm also being brave, so you have to be brave too.
I love you.
Yonah
PS. Tell Weissy that I say hello!
Edited 2021-06-06 19:45 (UTC)
first of all, how dare you, on a man's birthday, do this to him
[ darkness — pitch darkness. a darkness as black as ink, swallowing every inch of life in its mass like a slow tide. nier doesn't dream often; he never has. too many restless nights. too much to think about, even if each and every throught would manage to slip through the crevices of his mind and half heartedly slink back into the void. dreams were pointless. taunting. torment. they carried fear and they carried want, the two greatest vices he had ever known.
there's a letter. it's written on aged parchment; you can practically make out the tea stains rippling through the sheet. his hands begin to materialize out of the darkness. the letter slides in, gently, as if it were a parting gift.
the first two words are enough to make his eyes water inexplicably. the feeling is no different from bile rising up your throat — from anticipation, need, heartbreak. like having a patch of skin torn off the breadth of your chest only to have it slapped back on. it's raw and cutting and he holds his breath as his vision blurs with each and every word.
this isn't real, he tells himself. it can't be real. telling becomes pleading. angry pleading. a sick joke that's been played on him by a devestated mind. or perhaps the gods themselves. but whatever cry he can muster out falls on deaf ears. nier turns the page over onto its back, and a thin quill manifests in between his fingers. he is forged from stone, brutally silent, immobilized in this dream. ]
Yonah,
I'm going to get you back I promise
Please wait for me
I'm sorry I couldn't protect you
I'm sorry I didn't write back
I know it's my fault
But I'm afraid that
[ ... ]
Yonah,
I miss you more with every day that passes.
I've never been much good at writing letters. I'm sorry for that. But I see these shops and people and places and I want to tell you all about them. I want to show you them. There's so much you haven't seen yet. When you're back home with me, we can travel together once your body's stronger. So wait until then, okay?
I'm okay. You don't need to worry about me. A lot of the village is depending on me now. Weiss says it's a sign of how much I've grown but I'm not sure about that.
I'm not that tall. Or at least I don't think I am. We'll see what you think soon.
Stay safe. Wait for me. Are you alright? I'll be there soon. I promise. I'm working everyday to see you again.
It's my birthday so somebody has to grant my wish, don't they?
[yonah does not expect her letter to be answered; it's true that nier doesn't write as much as she does, but over the years she's come to ponder upon it and realize that—hey—there exactly isn't a lot of time when traveling between towns to stop and write letters, especially if he's busy and working hard, fighting shades or otherwise.
she's been sleeping a lot lately.
her body grows but it's not her own anymore. there is someone else with her, here, and though yonah cannot understand her much, she tries to be comforting.
the only comfort yonah really wants, really knows of, is to be with her brother again. the tears never stop, and so she cries and cries, while the world around her continues to be different in ways she doesn't understand. but past the comforting voice that comes now and again to try and soothe her, it's her own belief that her brother will come for her that lets her rest from her tears.
in those moments, she imagines the letters he replies with—it brings her comfort in ways that cannot be explained, to envision something that may, or may not, be real. though it's dark around her, she feels the texture of paper and can feel the bumps of the letters on her fingers, and it all but makes her smile even if the tears won't stop.
no, don't cry. i told him i'm being brave.]
Dearest brother,
[so yonah starts again, writing unto paper that she cannot see even with her eyes open, this kind of darkness one that her eyes will never get used to.]
Popola gave me a story about a tree one time. That tree had to wait and wait and wait... so, I know. I know you will come for me, so I can wait, too. I know you'll be here soon.
Even if I never get strong enough to travel with you, so long as I can be with you, at home, I [—she stops, puts a hand to her chest and curls her fingers into a fist, into her dress; she misses him so much and he's trying so hard, she knows, so yonah doesn't want him to worry more than he already does.] will be happy.
Where I am, I hear music. It's not like Devola's singing. It's more... more. Like many instruments and sometimes voices. It's very pretty. It makes me feel like a princess in a castle. I wonder if that's where I am?
I'm sorry I cannot help you find where I am. It's very dark here all the time.
Did you eat something nice for your birthday? You can make a wish before blowing out the candles...! That's what I read in a book before!
I'll keep wishing to see you again soon, so the Keeper of Wishes will have the same wish to grant over and over!!
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action - october 1st.
his cloak and outer layers he leaves folded up where they won't get dirty, leaving him in his sleeveless undershirt. his staff as well stays there after he withdraws the sword that hides within it. these dummies might not be exceptional opponents, but they fight back, and that's all he needs. alone, he can concentrate, let his blade talk for him. if someone was to see him, they'd see his face solemn in its concentration, his moves quick. this is a man accustomed to handling a sword - someone who fights not for pure joy, but to win. to battle, for life.
if something worse is to come, he'll need to keep his own head on his shoulders.]
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he hates sleeping. he always has. his designated purpose here is to protect these people.
or maybe the truth is that the prospect of being forced to witness the world die, bit by bit, just as it did before haunts him.
so he gets up, blade in tow, dressed down to his pants, hair tied up and tightened until it has no chance of sweeping across his shoulders. the iron of his boots sift against the ground. there's a figure, familiar, graceful—
...
nier doesn't speak. instead, he watches. he gets a feel for his movements. there is purpose in his stance. he is firm in how he carries himself, and he can see it flicker in his eyes, the way he envisions an opponent that does not exist, something to concentrate his energy towards.
of course, he's never been much of a spectator. so he enters the ring, arms behind his head. ]
...People make for better practice than dummies do.
[ his features are hard, but he cants his head the slightest bit — like it's a proposition. ]
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That's enough.
[light, but there's not a request in it. instead, it is a command solid enough that the dummies back off, and Merlin can look to Nier.]
...Can't sleep, Nier?
[of course people make better practice. but he has his reasons - he always does. his own hair hangs loose, but it doesn't seem to bother him - somehow, it wasn't getting in the way.]
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[ he's said that for the past 6 years.
nier stands tall, gradually drawing out his blade — just two dudes, hanging out with their swords.
his fingers run along its sheath. ]
I take it you couldn't either...but I didn't know you were good with a sword.
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[his eyes trail over Nier, lingering on the sword.]
Am I in the way of you having a bout of your own?
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2/6
This is your bed. The winter hasn't ended yet, so you'll need to keep warm at night.
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anyway. ]
'Kay.
[ this sense of being immediately cared for isn't new to them, so there's a quality of nostalgia here. it doesn't help that nier's hair is as white as toriel's fur. ]
What if it's still cold under my blankets.
[ is there even heating here... frisk has no idea. if there's a thermostat, they're too short to see it. ]
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[ something earnest and benign plays along his lips. he looks down towards frisk, hands on his hips. ]
Longer pants too...and I'll find you another blanket. But you have to tell me if it's cold, alright?
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eventually, they nod, understanding. ]
I already have a sweater.
[ they do have shorts on, admittedly. but their booties are still boots! frisk stands on one foot, holding their leg out so that their shoe is easy to see. ] And I have... boots.
[ said boots go up to their ankles. they're not doing much in terms of warmth. ]
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You can sleep in my bed, then.
[ and then his eyes flicker down towards their boots. ]
Those shoes aren't fit for the winter. I'll have to make you socks..
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2/14, action
Are you having trouble sleeping?
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...
[ they stop at the sound of his voice. ]
...
[ ...
the edge of the blankets move, and frisk's head pops out. their hair is a complete mess. ]
...
...There's enough room...
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the corners of his lips threaten to quirk up into a smile. a soft laugh chuckle barely escapes him. ]
Enough room for what?
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post horologium, action
he remembers this face.
he approaches, with all the awkwardness of the recently dead. ]
I must thank you for your efforts on the mission. And for the hindrances I caused the team, I apologize.
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[ his voice isn't gentle, no, but the sentiment is there no less. he turns to look at him, eyes tired — far too accustomed to this. ]
You weren't a hindrance. You shouldn't talk about yourself like that.
don't oniichan me i've been at this game a lot longer than you
[ he smiles, not without some weariness, but it's clearly a gesture of assurance. ]
I... don't remember much, admittedly. I wished to ensure you and the others were alright.
[ there's a pause. ]
The child--they are... ?
[ he has yet to see them. ]
stop is there a BROTHER in your name?i i think the fuck not
[ there's a curt nod of the head. the weariness is noted, however, and nier steps a bit closer. ]
The battle's over. You don't have to think about it anymore. But you should get some rest.
[ and a beat before he raises a single hand. ]
I can take care of you.
[ said without an ounce of hesitance. ]
im a fucking steward have a seat
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honestly, it'd be funny to see if this works on Nier.
so the next time they cross paths, Merlin has a question for him.]
Do you like surprises?
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[ nier tilts his head curiously, a brow raised. adjusting to the weight of his horns has been an ordeal, and it...certainly makes the general head tilt harder to pull off. ]
What do you need?
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It's a surprise for you.
[like a present, maybe. or not. it's all in the box.]
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Uh. What is it?
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—in a whisper, in a song, in a dream
I'm counting the days as best as I can, but it's hard to most days. I miss you, but I want you to know that I am okay. I think a lot about all the stories you told me before and that makes me feel better!
Oh... speaking of days: happy birthday! I bet you are so much taller now!! When I see you again, I'll give you a very, very big hug! I promise you that I'm being good, so you don't have to worry about me.
I'm also being brave, so you have to be brave too.
I love you.
Yonah
PS. Tell Weissy that I say hello!
first of all, how dare you, on a man's birthday, do this to him
there's a letter. it's written on aged parchment; you can practically make out the tea stains rippling through the sheet. his hands begin to materialize out of the darkness. the letter slides in, gently, as if it were a parting gift.
the first two words are enough to make his eyes water inexplicably. the feeling is no different from bile rising up your throat — from anticipation, need, heartbreak. like having a patch of skin torn off the breadth of your chest only to have it slapped back on. it's raw and cutting and he holds his breath as his vision blurs with each and every word.
this isn't real, he tells himself. it can't be real. telling becomes pleading. angry pleading. a sick joke that's been played on him by a devestated mind. or perhaps the gods themselves. but whatever cry he can muster out falls on deaf ears. nier turns the page over onto its back, and a thin quill manifests in between his fingers. he is forged from stone, brutally silent, immobilized in this dream. ]
Yonah,
I'm going to get you back I promise
Please wait for me
I'm sorry I couldn't protect you
I'm sorry I didn't write back
I know it's my fault
But I'm afraid that[ ... ]
Yonah,
I miss you more with every day that passes.
I've never been much good at writing letters. I'm sorry for that. But I see these shops and people and places and I want to tell you all about them. I want to show you them. There's so much you haven't seen yet. When you're back home with me, we can travel together once your body's stronger. So wait until then, okay?
I'm okay. You don't need to worry about me. A lot of the village is depending on me now. Weiss says it's a sign of how much I've grown but I'm not sure about that.
I'm not that tall. Or at least I don't think I am. We'll see what you think soon.
Stay safe. Wait for me. Are you alright? I'll be there soon. I promise. I'm working everyday to see you again.
It's my birthday so somebody has to grant my wish, don't they?
Your big brother,
Nier
someone had to do it ✨
she's been sleeping a lot lately.
her body grows but it's not her own anymore. there is someone else with her, here, and though yonah cannot understand her much, she tries to be comforting.
the only comfort yonah really wants, really knows of, is to be with her brother again. the tears never stop, and so she cries and cries, while the world around her continues to be different in ways she doesn't understand. but past the comforting voice that comes now and again to try and soothe her, it's her own belief that her brother will come for her that lets her rest from her tears.
in those moments, she imagines the letters he replies with—it brings her comfort in ways that cannot be explained, to envision something that may, or may not, be real. though it's dark around her, she feels the texture of paper and can feel the bumps of the letters on her fingers, and it all but makes her smile even if the tears won't stop.
no, don't cry. i told him i'm being brave.]
Dearest brother,
[so yonah starts again, writing unto paper that she cannot see even with her eyes open, this kind of darkness one that her eyes will never get used to.]
Popola gave me a story about a tree one time. That tree had to wait and wait and wait... so, I know. I know you will come for me, so I can wait, too. I know you'll be here soon.
Even if I never get strong enough to travel with you, so long as I can be with you, at home, I [—she stops, puts a hand to her chest and curls her fingers into a fist, into her dress; she misses him so much and he's trying so hard, she knows, so yonah doesn't want him to worry more than he already does.] will be happy.
Where I am, I hear music. It's not like Devola's singing. It's more... more. Like many instruments and sometimes voices. It's very pretty. It makes me feel like a princess in a castle. I wonder if that's where I am?
I'm sorry I cannot help you find where I am. It's very dark here all the time.
Did you eat something nice for your birthday? You can make a wish before blowing out the candles...! That's what I read in a book before!
I'll keep wishing to see you again soon, so the Keeper of Wishes will have the same wish to grant over and over!!
I love you, always.
Yonah