video; un: deathweaver

[respired]

[ Koltira's sitting on a flat rock, long legs stretched out, a bottle of something dark and high proof in one hand--a souvenir from the remains of the saloon. He's surrounded by cacti and tall, spiky yucca plants; the silhouette of Perdition's Rest is not far behind him, due west. He's close enough to reach by a quick walk, but not so close that he's in the middle of everyone and their campfires and their singing and their camaraderie and so on. A thin dusting of snow coats everything, though close inspection reveals a mirror-like sheet of ice slowly crackling its way into being over the rock, as though animated of its own accord.

A few people have seen him since that terrible week, but not many. He's cleaned up since then. No more chains. Back in his fine, planet-appropriate clothes--long, black coat, stylish hat, boots with sharp spurs. He has new, red tattoos on one hand, and his pale hair is done up in a thick braid that falls over his shoulder.

He leans forward, pulling his right leg up and draping his arm over his knee. He looks miserable. And a little drunk. ]

No one regrets what transpired more than me. I was not in control of myself, though it's no excuse. An apology feels weak and inadequate, but you have it from me, a hundred times, a thousand times.

[ He takes a drink from the bottle. A long drink. ]

I will do what I can to atone, within reason. If you wish me never to look your way again, I will not. If you wish to strike me, you may, though I will defend myself against a lethal blow. If you have something else in mind, tell me.

I will work with Sieglinde, for whatever fruit that bears. It may bear nothing, but I'll endure the attempt.

[ The guilt in his expression, pulling at his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows, hardens. He clenches his jaw. ]

Yet, understand this. I will never be a slave again. Not to any of you, nor to anyone else. I will not beg, and I will not scrape. I will not kneel. And you do not have the right to decide my destiny. None of you do. That's my decision, and mine alone.

[ He sets the bottle down. Shuts his eyes. Last time this happened, he had given a lengthy explanation. He had laid bare the facts of himself: what he was, how he came to be that way. But not this time. He will not open a vein for nothing; he will not suffer dismissal on top of scorn. Not over his past.

Besides, as guilty as he is, as deeply and truly remorseful, he's still angry, too. ]

I have nothing more to say.

Comments

[respired]

[ Gently, his lilting, echoing voice soft. ]

If I didn't want to listen, I wouldn't have asked.

[ Commiseration builds trust, Lucina! ]

-> video

[tolight]

... I suppose you're right.

[ It takes her a minute, fiddling with the jewelry, before she's also broadcasting. Koltira deserves her full attention, at the very least, if he's going to listen to her story.

But first: ] Has... mother told you of our world?

[respired]

Bits and pieces. But my memory is not what it used to be, in any case.

[ That is to say, undeath turned it to swiss cheese. ]

I know she has many people waiting for her. An army she sees as her family.

[tolight]

[ Lucina nods, expression warming despite the situation — that's the most important part. ] Yes, the Shepherds.

My father was — is the leader, as well as the Exalt of Ylisse. [ She begins her story with the man she idolizes, her tone proud without even realizing it. ] He and I are of the bloodline chosen by Naga, the Divine Dragon.

... However, from the timeline I am from, he falls at the hands of the individual he called his best friend. [ She's not ... sad, not angry, her voice kept at a neutral tone. ] Without him, no one was able to stop the Fell Dragon's — Grima — awakening, or his rise to power.

By the time I was old enough, the original Shepherds were killed by the Risen, his army. [ A pause, as her eyes flicker away. ] Mother was no exception — she died protecting my brother, Inigo, and I.

[respired]

[ Koltira listens to the story quietly, impassively, not interrupting. He doesn't have the full context, of course, though it hardly surprises him to hear of dragons involved in destruction and tragedy. Many of Azeroth's own dragons are forces for good, but the ones that aren't--well, they shaped the world as cruelly as the villains Lucina's just described.

His ears wilt slightly on hearing of Olivia's death. That doesn't surprise him, either. For all her gentleness, he knows her to be a warrior, a soldier. And the ultimate fate of all soldiers is the same, no matter what realm you hail from.

He murmurs. ]

When you return to your world, Olivia will not be there.

[ That's the point, right? ]

[tolight]

... Yes. [ There's a lengthy pause. ] Along with —

The... time I am from is beyond the hope of saving. [ How many times has she recounted this story, now? To the curious Shepherds, her father, her mother. Olivia here, again. With each iteration, her tone becomes more neutral, passive. Maybe it's because she knows there's a better, happier end. ] We — the children — were sent by Naga to a different timeline of Ylisse, before peril. In the hopes of preventing what became of our time, with the condition that we will never be able to return to our own homes.

[ And now, for a breath of fresh air. ] We succeeded. Mother and father are alive, as are the rest of the Shepherds. They'll live a peaceful life, with a Lucina of their own. [ And that's the point. The fact that she has saved Olivia, but not her mother. Her mother and father are long gone. ]

... I could not see mother during the fire. [ With context, hopefully the weight of these words make more sense. ] I believed I failed to protect her, again.

[respired]

[ Alternate timelines are not unheard of in Azeroth, though only the Bronze dragonflight has the power to manipulate them.

He catches on a particular phrase -- 'a Lucina of their own'. Meaning, not her. Someone else. ]

I see. You have made great sacrifices for her, haven't you?

[ And she was clearly looking to make still more. ]

[tolight]

Sacrifices — [ Lucina actually has to think about the question. "Sacrifice" means that she had something to lose in the process; but when all she's left with is a dying world, there isn't much to lose. She started with zero and gained her happy ending out of it, even if the ending doesn't necessarily include her.

But ... she's not about to argue with Koltira over this, instead choosing a simple: ] Perhaps.

... My parents deserve much more than the life they were given in my timeline.

[respired]

[ Quietly. ]

As do you, Lucina.

[tolight]

Thank you for saying so. [ Complete with a quiet smile; she may not believe it ( she's already been given everything she deserves, and more ), but it means something that Koltira thinks so. ]

— I apologize, I didn't mean to burden you with all of this.

[respired]

[ Lucina showed him kindness and compassion right from the start, no questions asked. That's even outside of her status as Olivia's daughter, a position which already puts her in high esteem to Koltira's eyes. She deserves as much happiness as she can bear. ]

It is no burden. I am honored that you trusted me enough to share it.

[tolight]

Of course.

You're a friend, Koltira. [ A friend, a comrade. ] The trust is the least I can provide.

[respired]

[ He might have rejected that label out of hand, had they spoken some months past. But now, hearing it inspires a little bit of warmth, a shot of fleeting comfort. He smiles, as genuine as when he was a living man, and it lights up his entire countenance. ]

I consider you a friend, as well. If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask.

[tolight]

Thank you. [ New(ish) friend: get!! ] Of course, I'd also be more than happy to help should you ever need it.

Take care, Koltira. [ They'll speak again soon ( at the next check-in ). ]