[Flins is silent as Diarmuid makes his case, brushing some hair out of the man's eyes to check his brow. It seemed to be a full inspection, looking for any signs of wear that would normally be chalked up to stress or a bad night's sleep.]
...
[His eyes close for just a moment. So his instinct was correct after all.]
Even the sea's waves can bore a hole into a cliff. [It's said softly, as if to encourage more out of the man as he steps back. He didn't have much in the way of refreshments, but...he did have teabags. And he could heat water pretty quickly. Allow him to scrounge about. He does have clean cups, all things considered.]
Does this have anything to do with the Baron Omatsuri?
[He'd done his research on that dreadful event. Thankfully, he came out of it with no sign of the Wild Hunt, but that didn't mean there were no casualties.]
[Given the sheer energy drain his existence had on the dried up mana puddle known as Waver Velvet, Diarmuid did actually need sleep. And he certainly looks like he's gotten none of it. He's spent sleepless nights watching his Master rest in the vain hope that he would remember something...]
The surging sea will eventually unearth the cliffs deepest depths. [It's most ugly insides that none must see, for it is the beauty of the structure's image and symbolism that the people feel the strongest.
He sighed quietly, giving an affirming nod.]
I'm afraid so. Tell me what you know of it, my friend. Then I will share my tale with it.
On the contrary, the waves turning the cliffs into sea caves is quite beautiful. Still standing, but allowed a glimpse inside.
[His fingers move gently, tracing the bags under Diarmuid's eyes and to the stress lines that have formed between eyes and nose. Those definitely weren't there before.]
Only that a select few people of Kaisou were pulled into the Spirit Gate. The gate contained a man so consumed by grief that he would utilize a power not meant for him to wield, using the dominant Earth Element to try and bring his crew back.
I'd feared at first that the Wild Hunt would take advantage of the situation and the thinning of the barrier of the Spirit Vein, but thankfully that was not the case.
...
I also learned that the deaths that were experienced there were not permanent, and that the only damage was what was done to the relationships of those affected.
[Letting that contrary opinion sink in, Diarmuid couldn't help but sigh. It's something he certainly would tell anyone that wasn't himself... Ah, he ought to know better. But the road to self-kindness was steep and curved and fraught with detours.]
Indeed... it is.
[To think he whose unparalleled beauty was the stuff of legends as much as his chivalry and strength had such clear indicators of his stress. He was not even upset they were being scrutinized so.]
You are correct on all fronts. [It was a mercy that there was no involvement of the Wild Hunt here, but that was an entire can of worms he hadn't the capacity to address right now.]
The longer we spend in that realm, deep in the jungle he created, the more impatient and irate everyone there became. Even I, who as a Saber-class should have resisted such magical manipulations. Perhaps my alignment with this world's Earth element amplified it. I cannot say for certain.
[...]
My nature is not that of a normal man, mortal or otherwise. I am a Heroic Spirit summoned by a Mage to fight in War. Though I still bleed and am able to eat and sleep, it would be more accurate to compare me to a corporeal ghost. I am created from Mana and to Mana I return when I die.
[A short pause for Flins to take that in. Then, he continued quieter.]
I was one of the casualties of that realm. I left behind no body and only returned because the deaths were not permanent. But due to my nature...
[...]
I've lost most of my memory of my home world... The endlessly reaching branches of fate have tangled in my mind and I cannot piece together what "I" experienced and what another "Diarmuid ua Duibhne" has. I've even forgotten a great deal about my summoner. Someone who I once not only called my best friend but my beloved partner.
[Flins steps back, his 'checkup' of Dia now 'complete'. Physically, there's not much he can do for the man. Fatigue had only one cure--rest. Still, he can do what he can, and moves to the little kitchenette area to start up the stove. Tea could work wonders in situations like this.]
Do not blame yourself, my friend. I inspected the 'battleground' for casualties after the dust had settled. Despite the Baron's departure, along with his plant, the air was still thick with the Earth Element. It could bring a god to its knees. And your alignment made especially susceptible.
...
[That explains so much. Flins had a feeling that Diarmuid aligned more with the spirits he spoke with than the humans he interacted with. He couldn't explain why until now. His face remains unchanged as the steam starts to escape the kettle, fingers gripping his arm just a little tighter as Dia continues on.
It was one thing to die. It's a natural course of things in this world. How many unjust deaths had the Ratniks suffered during his time? How many bodies had he buried? He lost count. But for Dia to not have even that, no resting place because he was not granted the gift of a real body to start with...it puts something unsettling in his heart.
Was there really going to be nothing for Flins to lay to rest, when that time came? A chilling thought.
Especially because that wasn't the only thing that was taken. Diarmuid was suffering amnesia as well. Selective, from the sound of it, as Dia knew who HE was.]
Your 'death' only happened recently, I believe that memory shall return with time and rest. Your unique situation is likely playing a part. The body houses the soul, and since you do not technically have a body, I can only assume its quite scattered.
Think of your corporeal form like...a jar of fireflies. Now take away the jar. Until your jar is strong enough to hold the fireflies again, they will be nothing but scattered insects.
[There has been naught left of Diarmuid ua Duibhne to bury but the fang of the boar that took his life centuries ago. That Diarmuid very nearly came to the conclusion of what he wished to do with it knowing the loaded emotions it carried. A conclusion that got lost in this selective amnesia he'd developed.
A near year of progress halted by tangled roots.
It was frustrating. But it was his existence. A knight would not give up when faced with an obstacle.
He would overcome it...]
I will remember him. Little by little I will capture the fireflies again and together they will shine bright. Until then, I have each small light to guide me. And one star bright among them leading me to the right path. One step at a time.
[His guiding star, Waver. Despite his words, there was still pain in his tone.]
The life I lead before becoming a Heroic Spirit was painted by heartbreak. The cursed love spot causing me to crush the hearts of many women who had been victims. Of my fellow knights. My former king.
[Myself.]
... It pains me, Sir Flins. To have broken someone else's heart because of my scattered memories. It feels as though it is woven into my fate... to see the tears, fallen or held back, of those who I cannot in good faith reciprocate the feelings for.
I know that I still feel this affection for him. But it does not feel right when the weight of all that came before is scattered and flying about aimlessly...
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no subject
Date: 2025-11-07 02:54 am (UTC)...
[His eyes close for just a moment. So his instinct was correct after all.]
Even the sea's waves can bore a hole into a cliff. [It's said softly, as if to encourage more out of the man as he steps back. He didn't have much in the way of refreshments, but...he did have teabags. And he could heat water pretty quickly. Allow him to scrounge about. He does have clean cups, all things considered.]
Does this have anything to do with the Baron Omatsuri?
[He'd done his research on that dreadful event. Thankfully, he came out of it with no sign of the Wild Hunt, but that didn't mean there were no casualties.]
no subject
Date: 2025-11-08 12:22 am (UTC)The surging sea will eventually unearth the cliffs deepest depths. [It's most ugly insides that none must see, for it is the beauty of the structure's image and symbolism that the people feel the strongest.
He sighed quietly, giving an affirming nod.]
I'm afraid so. Tell me what you know of it, my friend. Then I will share my tale with it.
no subject
Date: 2025-11-12 06:08 am (UTC)[His fingers move gently, tracing the bags under Diarmuid's eyes and to the stress lines that have formed between eyes and nose. Those definitely weren't there before.]
Only that a select few people of Kaisou were pulled into the Spirit Gate. The gate contained a man so consumed by grief that he would utilize a power not meant for him to wield, using the dominant Earth Element to try and bring his crew back.
I'd feared at first that the Wild Hunt would take advantage of the situation and the thinning of the barrier of the Spirit Vein, but thankfully that was not the case.
...
I also learned that the deaths that were experienced there were not permanent, and that the only damage was what was done to the relationships of those affected.
no subject
Date: 2025-11-12 09:52 pm (UTC)Indeed... it is.
[To think he whose unparalleled beauty was the stuff of legends as much as his chivalry and strength had such clear indicators of his stress. He was not even upset they were being scrutinized so.]
You are correct on all fronts. [It was a mercy that there was no involvement of the Wild Hunt here, but that was an entire can of worms he hadn't the capacity to address right now.]
The longer we spend in that realm, deep in the jungle he created, the more impatient and irate everyone there became. Even I, who as a Saber-class should have resisted such magical manipulations. Perhaps my alignment with this world's Earth element amplified it. I cannot say for certain.
[...]
My nature is not that of a normal man, mortal or otherwise. I am a Heroic Spirit summoned by a Mage to fight in War. Though I still bleed and am able to eat and sleep, it would be more accurate to compare me to a corporeal ghost. I am created from Mana and to Mana I return when I die.
[A short pause for Flins to take that in. Then, he continued quieter.]
I was one of the casualties of that realm. I left behind no body and only returned because the deaths were not permanent. But due to my nature...
[...]
I've lost most of my memory of my home world... The endlessly reaching branches of fate have tangled in my mind and I cannot piece together what "I" experienced and what another "Diarmuid ua Duibhne" has. I've even forgotten a great deal about my summoner. Someone who I once not only called my best friend but my beloved partner.
[And that was soul-crushing.]
no subject
Date: 2025-11-14 09:38 am (UTC)Do not blame yourself, my friend. I inspected the 'battleground' for casualties after the dust had settled. Despite the Baron's departure, along with his plant, the air was still thick with the Earth Element. It could bring a god to its knees. And your alignment made especially susceptible.
...
[That explains so much. Flins had a feeling that Diarmuid aligned more with the spirits he spoke with than the humans he interacted with. He couldn't explain why until now. His face remains unchanged as the steam starts to escape the kettle, fingers gripping his arm just a little tighter as Dia continues on.
It was one thing to die. It's a natural course of things in this world. How many unjust deaths had the Ratniks suffered during his time? How many bodies had he buried? He lost count. But for Dia to not have even that, no resting place because he was not granted the gift of a real body to start with...it puts something unsettling in his heart.
Was there really going to be nothing for Flins to lay to rest, when that time came? A chilling thought.
Especially because that wasn't the only thing that was taken. Diarmuid was suffering amnesia as well. Selective, from the sound of it, as Dia knew who HE was.]
Your 'death' only happened recently, I believe that memory shall return with time and rest. Your unique situation is likely playing a part. The body houses the soul, and since you do not technically have a body, I can only assume its quite scattered.
Think of your corporeal form like...a jar of fireflies. Now take away the jar. Until your jar is strong enough to hold the fireflies again, they will be nothing but scattered insects.
You will remember your beloved in time, Diarmuid.
no subject
Date: 2025-11-16 02:40 am (UTC)A near year of progress halted by tangled roots.
It was frustrating. But it was his existence. A knight would not give up when faced with an obstacle.
He would overcome it...]
I will remember him. Little by little I will capture the fireflies again and together they will shine bright. Until then, I have each small light to guide me. And one star bright among them leading me to the right path. One step at a time.
[His guiding star, Waver. Despite his words, there was still pain in his tone.]
The life I lead before becoming a Heroic Spirit was painted by heartbreak. The cursed love spot causing me to crush the hearts of many women who had been victims. Of my fellow knights. My former king.
[Myself.]
... It pains me, Sir Flins. To have broken someone else's heart because of my scattered memories. It feels as though it is woven into my fate... to see the tears, fallen or held back, of those who I cannot in good faith reciprocate the feelings for.
I know that I still feel this affection for him. But it does not feel right when the weight of all that came before is scattered and flying about aimlessly...