[Wherever Dimitri happens to be that night, Flayn imagines that he won't be sleeping.
She realizes, as the sun begins to set, that nighttime is when the ghosts have come out thus far. And while she can't remember encountering any just after last week's trial, she thinks that perhaps her own specter appearing just after Dimitri has been named executioner would be a bad idea.
So she runs.
(If he spots an apparition fleeing from the beach after the vote, once the sun has fully set, it might not be just a trick of the eye.)
It is only later that she shows herself. Wherever she happens to find him, she approaches carefully - and finds that she doesn't know what to say to him.
...or what to try to say. If their experiences thus far hold true, he won't understand her, even if she speaks. She looks incredibly uncertain, her see-through brow creasing as she struggles to come up with something. Eventually, she just looks down at her feet.
[ Flayn is correct: he's not sleeping a wink. He's had trouble with it since the trials began, but tonight he's up willfully in a last-ditch effort to find some answers, some loophole they might be able to wriggle through. A name he can point his blade at. Some desperate, last-minute fulfillment of what are likely C-3PO's last wishes.
What he finds instead is a ghost; he looks up from where he's crouched down, looking over the ruins for what feels like the hundredth time.
And though he's seen many ghosts so far, her silhouette has him inhaling sharply.
He doesn't mistake that she's alive, even for a moment, but his hand still twitches upward, as though to test if she's really there. ]
Slowly, she starts to reach out for his hand, but then thinks better of it. Even if she does reach out for him, she's incorporeal. It would only be a stark reminder of the fact that he is alive, and she is not.
Flayn walks towards him, then kneels down next to him.
She tries to smile, but it really doesn't come out quite right.]
[ She might not smile, but even in death, Flayn is more gracious than most ghosts. Nothing like his father, or his father's soldiers, and all their anguished gnashing in his ears.
She is quiet, and her soul is so kind. But it doesn't change the fact that she's still here—still a fettered spirit, unable to find true rest. ]
I am so sorry.
[ For all his fury today, his voice is exhausted now, raw and open in its sorrow. ]
[ It's the waka, surprisingly, that brings him back down to earth, if only slightly. It can be difficult to tell this island's ghosts from the ones in his own mind, but they are different, somehow.
He stares at her a moment, following her hands to a patch of earth.
Then slowly, unsurely, he writes out some of the alphabet. Was she trying to communicate? ]
[ He just says it aloud in disbelief. How could she be seeing something so different? ]
What about... [ He gestures to what he returned here to look at in the first place: a small massage room, now in cinders, home to the odd passageway they'd found earlier. ] Is there anything odd there?
[ He taps his arm, heart racing. What is he missing here? ]
In that case... Flayn. It is garish that I have to ask, but...
[ He unearths a few, crumpled flowers from his overcoat pocket. ]
Do you recall seeing these at all? I wonder— [ Another pause, his eyes squeezed shut. ] I wonder if they did not have a hand to play in your death, somehow.
[ He reaches out, ignoring the fact that he can't actually touch her, enough that his hand phases atop hers. ]
It is all right. You are doing all that you can. I spoke to another ghost, one before you... he seemed to indicate that he was prevented from speaking. You may be affected in ways we cannot see.
[ He does his best to reassure her, but he can't let the questions rest. If she can't answer that one, then... ]
But I suppose that means you don't recall if you shared a meal with anyone earlier this week. Before you fell ill.
[Flayn looks up at him as his hand phases through hers, and for the first time tonight, her smile meets her eyes. She looks at their hands for a moment before looking up to his face, then returns her attention to point at the letters once more.]
[ He reaches out as she fades, hand snatching for her sleeve like it might hold her in this place, bring her back—but of course, it doesn't.
She's gone, again. In a way, she'd never been there at all.
...But what could they do to a spirit? Ghosts are already endless in their suffering. His eyes steel over as he pushes himself up onto his feet, ash and dirt on his shins.
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fishingforcompliments) wrote2020-05-01 06:34 pm
w2, post-trial
She realizes, as the sun begins to set, that nighttime is when the ghosts have come out thus far. And while she can't remember encountering any just after last week's trial, she thinks that perhaps her own specter appearing just after Dimitri has been named executioner would be a bad idea.
So she runs.
(If he spots an apparition fleeing from the beach after the vote, once the sun has fully set, it might not be just a trick of the eye.)
It is only later that she shows herself. Wherever she happens to find him, she approaches carefully - and finds that she doesn't know what to say to him.
...or what to try to say. If their experiences thus far hold true, he won't understand her, even if she speaks. She looks incredibly uncertain, her see-through brow creasing as she struggles to come up with something. Eventually, she just looks down at her feet.
This is harder than she had thought it would be.]
no subject
What he finds instead is a ghost; he looks up from where he's crouched down, looking over the ruins for what feels like the hundredth time.
And though he's seen many ghosts so far, her silhouette has him inhaling sharply.
He doesn't mistake that she's alive, even for a moment, but his hand still twitches upward, as though to test if she's really there. ]
Flayn...
no subject
Slowly, she starts to reach out for his hand, but then thinks better of it. Even if she does reach out for him, she's incorporeal. It would only be a stark reminder of the fact that he is alive, and she is not.
Flayn walks towards him, then kneels down next to him.
She tries to smile, but it really doesn't come out quite right.]
no subject
She is quiet, and her soul is so kind. But it doesn't change the fact that she's still here—still a fettered spirit, unable to find true rest. ]
I am so sorry.
[ For all his fury today, his voice is exhausted now, raw and open in its sorrow. ]
Are you here because I broke our promise?
1/2
Waka—
[...right. She can't speak properly.]
2/2
no subject
He stares at her a moment, following her hands to a patch of earth.
Then slowly, unsurely, he writes out some of the alphabet. Was she trying to communicate? ]
no subject
D-E-D...
[She's waiting for the rest of the alphabet before she continues.]
no subject
He hastily writes the rest of the letters for her, heart in his throat. ]
no subject
...U-E-I-S-N-O-T-W-I-T-H-T-H-E-D-E-A-D
[She looks up at him, then down at the letters to point again.]
R-E-T-U-R-N-H-O-M-E-T-O-H-I-M
no subject
How much of that had been a lie? ]
Flayn... can you tell me what else you see? Are you with all the others who died?
no subject
T-H-E-R-E-A-R-E-O-T-H-E-R-S-W-H-O-D-I-E-D-B-E-F-O-R-E-U-S
[...so some part of this, at least, is not a lie. But she has not seen Dedue, and from what she's heard from the others, neither has any other ghost.]
I-B-E-L-I-E-V-E-T-H-E-D-E-A-D-A-R-E-T-R-A-P-P-E-D
[That isn't so nice.]
I-A-M-S-O-R-R-Y
no subject
It's too sad. ]
But why—why is this necessary? What is there to gain from so much death?
[ He looks back to her. ]
What else do you see? Can you tell me? Anything— [ his voice goes hoarse, but he swallows and tries again. ] anything that could help me end this.
no subject
I-D-O-N-O-T-K-N-O-W
[She looks carefully around them, then shakes her head again.]
T-O-M-E-T-H-E-R-U-I-N-S-A-R-E-N-O-T-R-U-I-N-S
[A pause, and then-]
I-D-O-N-O-T-K-N-O-W-W-H-Y
no subject
What are they, then?
no subject
[Please don't ask her to explain what a spa is because she doesn't fucking know.]
no subject
[ He just says it aloud in disbelief. How could she be seeing something so different? ]
What about... [ He gestures to what he returned here to look at in the first place: a small massage room, now in cinders, home to the odd passageway they'd found earlier. ] Is there anything odd there?
no subject
Wakawaka...
[Flayn wrinkles her nose at the sound of her own voice, then shakes her head again. No. Nothing odd.]
no subject
In that case... Flayn. It is garish that I have to ask, but...
[ He unearths a few, crumpled flowers from his overcoat pocket. ]
Do you recall seeing these at all? I wonder— [ Another pause, his eyes squeezed shut. ] I wonder if they did not have a hand to play in your death, somehow.
no subject
Flayn stares at them for a good long while, her brow furrowing as she takes in the sight of them. Her gaze lingers first on one, then on the other.
Has she seen those before?
Where...?
Eventually, her shoulders slump, and she looks back down at the alphabet he's written out.]
I-C-A-N-N-O-T-R-E-C-A-L-L
no subject
It is all right. You are doing all that you can. I spoke to another ghost, one before you... he seemed to indicate that he was prevented from speaking. You may be affected in ways we cannot see.
[ He does his best to reassure her, but he can't let the questions rest. If she can't answer that one, then... ]
But I suppose that means you don't recall if you shared a meal with anyone earlier this week. Before you fell ill.
1/2
2/2
Her form flickers, and she vanishes from view.]
no subject
She's gone, again. In a way, she'd never been there at all.
...But what could they do to a spirit? Ghosts are already endless in their suffering. His eyes steel over as he pushes himself up onto his feet, ash and dirt on his shins.
He'd free her. No matter what. ]