[Maybe weeks ago, he would've snapped, and said for everyone to leave him alone. Now, having lost people who he was deeply close to, he feels the void of emptiness they left behind.]
[It feels crushing, like the weight of a black hole.]
I don't mind. [He says, his voice quiet.] I just...can't believe it. I don't want to believe it.
[Yeah, mood! Neither can he! He's big mad about it. Byleth in particular was definitely not going to survive the week one way or another, but for it to happen like this... It doesn't sit well with him, for many reasons.
There's a little sigh - like a breath he'd been holding in - and something like an empathetic trill of concern, which he feels on Mandricardo's behalf.]
Byleth-dono... There was always a chance someone would act against her and take matters into their own hands. [...] I didn't expect Wang Lu-san, but he fits a pattern of victim.
[Guys (Usually With Swords) Who Can Presumably Defend Themselves To A Degree, but thinking about that just makes him furious all over again, and a little guilty, too.]
...Yeah, no, I expected somethin' would happen with her.
[There's almost something in the way his emotions move with that, the way they seem hard and sharp, but he lets out a breath, and they relax into the cloud of fury and grief.]
But...Wang Lu............
[His expression cracks a little - he almost looks like he's about to cry, but he swallows it down.]
[It's a painful thing, hearing words like that - but he doesn't feel he has any right to scold. Not when he'd easily trade his own life for... many of the people here, honestly.
Still, there's no hiding the little stinging pang he feels when he hears that, or the way the melancholy seems to rise up a bit in that swirling undercurrent of emotions that hovers below his anger. His hands fold together, fingers twisting.]
...Please don't say such a thing.
[It isn't scolding so much as plaintive, though some guilt accompanies it. Humans really do end up playing favorites quite often, don't they? There's no way he could say that he'd rather Mandricardo continue living even though it means the deaths of others around them, as true as it is. So he just says, quietly:]
[It crushes his expression further. Its getting harder to stay composed, like this, especially with someone here who he feels for, maybe more than most. Sakyou's feelings are like an axe cracking down the door, and he's too weak to stop it.]
It's not about bein' mourned. It...it isn't about that! I'd rather fade away for good knowin' I could save all of you.
[But he can't. Again, here he stands.]
[Useless, useless, useless.]
I'm just a stupid fucking Heroic Spirit. At least...at least so many here have lives and friends and families to go back to. And all my loved ones are here. And I can't do a thing for them.
[It's like a physical strike, the way Mandricardo's words hit. Each one sits like a lead weight in his chest, the heaviness weighing him down and radiating back out through him in the bleed of his emotions.
He doesn't know what he can do, either. When other people are hurting so badly, what is there to do? Guilt strangles him; they're two of a kind, wanting to do more and more and unable to do anything at all. Hah. What a funny joke. What peak entertainment for whatever cruel entities seem to enjoy watching them suffer and struggle and fail.
A few seconds pass in silence. The knot of Sakyou's fingers turns white at the knuckles, lips pressed into a thin, grim line.]
...I know that it's painful, being unable to do anything. To feel powerless in the face of something we can't even understand... I know this. [It's the same for him, after all.]
But if it is a personal failing of yours that you haven't managed to do impossible feats here, then it's a failing we all share.
[They're all powerless! That's fun! He's in despair.]
I feel like I keep having the same conversation every week. Someone dies. We're all sad. We talk about how this could have happened. And then the trial, and we figure someone out. Someone dies. Rinse, repeat.
[Over and over and over again.]
I know we're findin' out more stuff. About that daycare or whatever. But damn it-! I can't keep doin' this.
[There's just...exhaustion setting in his bones, here, underneath all the rage, all the grief. Like if he could just lay here, and close his eyes, and sleep forever, wouldn't that be nice...?]
[But it would help no one here to do that.]
[He shifts, before leaning his head against the other's shoulder, his eyes burning with tears.]
If the person responsible for this mess were here right now...I'd cut out his organs, one by one, and watch him bleed. And even that isn't good enough.
[There's a bare beat of a pause before Sakyou lifts the opposite hand from the shoulder Mandricardo is leaning against, gently cradling the side of his head. His touch is light as a feather and soft as the look on his face; a stark contrast to the sharp spike of bloodlust he feels.
Likewise, his words are quiet, despite the intensity of the fury behind them. He's done it before and he would do it again, twisting flesh into something unrecognizable and lashing out mercilessly in his hatred and rage.]
It would be a good thing, to make such a person regret existing in this world.
[There's a little flicker of something else in his emotions which is harder to pin down, but seems vaguely discomforted. His gaze drops toward his side, where the sword rests ever-present at his hip.]
...But I agree. We cannot carry on like this indefinitely.
[His feelings nestle, like a bird out from the storm angrily settling into some wooden groove in a tree out from the rain. Still stewing in his emotions, but a little less all over the place.]
[He also glances towards that sword. Swords are important things. Mandricardo sought a sword, obtained it, and then died with it in his hands.]
[And Sakyou's sword...]
...Your sword. [He glances at it again.] Was it made to cut down demons?
[They sure do have to end it at some point! Sakyou is in agreement, his tempestuous emotions barely settling even as Mandricardo's do. At least they're less complex now; mostly just the anger he nearly always feels, along with the usual Negative Vibes that come along with people dying and feeling like you're helplessly running up against a wall about it.
Though when Mandricardo addresses his sword, those emotions shift again. The brief unsettled vibe increases, along with something close to agitation. Despite the careful control he has over his expression, it's clear he's very discomforted and unhappy. His gaze flicks away from the blade, shifting out toward the trees ahead of them. The barely-there touch against the side of Mandricardo's head lifts a little.
He hesitates, tension pitching his shoulders up.]
...No, it wasn't. [...] This sword is not my own. Rather than being made to cut down demons, I believe it is a demonic entity.
[There's concern now that rises, cuts through the fog of negativity and despair. He reaches out, as if its just magnets in a action - to grasp the other's hand to squeeze, to reassure.]
[There's no judgement, just curiosity and worry for Sakyou. To kill demons but having a demon at one's side...]
[Sakyou's gaze remains averted even through the reassurance, though he doesn't pull his hand away or try to move away himself. Had this been any earlier, he would likely have avoided the subject entirely, but...
Well. Hiding things probably won't do anyone much good in the long run, here. So, with a sigh that doesn't really allow any of his tension to abate:]
A demon against anything. ...My sword - my actual sword, Hotarumaru - is the one that I used up until very recently. That is the sword entrusted to me by my father, and the one that has cut down every demon in my path. [HOO there's a big surge of guilt there, but he tamps down on it pretty quickly. Then, quietly and simply:] Muramasa is a demon blade that rivals the gods. It would fell anything that it desires to see dead.
[Which is everything! Demon swords are wild. Anyway that'll probably be good for whenever they come across whoever the fuck is responsible for this, at least(????)!]
[A sword by his father...? Some familiarity flickers across Mandricardo's face, a gut-deep stabbing of reminded sorrow.]
...My father also had a sword that I searched for, high and wide. That was stolen from his corpse.
[That he eventually stole back. But of course, this is different - he's merely echoing the feelings deep inside. The name "Muramasa" seems familiar. Something in a history book, perhaps. A sword maker? He doesn't know the details.]
[Wow Mandricardo truly does not catch a break... There's a pang of upset when he hears about the looting - about the quest to retrieve what should have stayed with that family in the first place.]
...Is it something you were able to find again, in the end?
[For as little as it could have ultimately done, given a sword won't bring the dead back to life.
Then, a note of discomfort, a little guilt once more.]
Even those with knowledge would likely have thought very little of it. It seems more like a ridiculous legend than anything.
Sakyou just frowns at literally all of that, though.]
But...?
[Just a gentle prompting; he doesn't seem like he'll push if Mandricardo doesn't want to continue speaking. Anyway, at the last bit, the discomforted vibes Only Increase, but with it this time comes a healthy dose of agitation and a fair amount of trepidation.]
...I - don't believe I've seen what it's fully capable of yet. But I have an idea.
But ah. Hm. Welp. So that was the blade he'd fetched back... He sure knows how painful it is to lose while relying on a sword passed down from your father! Wow. There's a wave of empathy, a little sorrow, and a thin line of anger on Mandricardo's behalf that cuts through it. Always, always angry.]
...It's a painful thing, to lose something you only just got back. To lose it in such a way.
[And a sentimental object is basically a stand-in for dead people, damn.]
Is there any way for you to get it back now? Or has it been lost...?
[Also don't worry for him get that worry away. Sakyou just shakes his head.]
[He's quiet for a few seconds, because he knows NOTHING AT ALL about the way Mandricardo's weird freakish f/go being works. But...]
...I hope that you're able to find and meet those conditions, then. I hope that you can obtain it again someday.
[If nothing else, Mandricardo deserves that. To keep what little he can of his father.
Anyway good question! Terrible question. Sakyou's radiating vibes that indicates he very much does not want to touch upon this subject, but... Well. He glances down toward the sword again, brow furrowed.]
I don't know. [HE DOESN'T KNOW SHIT.] But I've been held in its sway before, and remember very little of that time. [...] I intend to destroy it before returning.
There's a little bit of lingering softness for a moment though, for the possibility of Mandricardo receiving the sword he's missing.
But yeah, haha! Funny. Demon swords are wild. Sakyou purses his lips, quiet for a second before aiming for something a little more reassuring, he hopes.]
I believe it's possible. For the time being, its voice holds no power; it isn't a threat.
[That may be reassuring, but still - that worry lingers, before transforming into a sort of determination. He can't help it. He's always felt protective over Sakyou, and now, especially...]
[It's his immediate reflex to turn help away, to run, to make it so no one else has to get involved in his messy business. ...But even Sakyou isn't stupid enough to think he can take on something like Muramasa on his own.]
...I may.
[Quiet, careful.]
But it's something we can discuss later.
[Mandricardo lost is wholeass boyfriend, after all.]
[He's glad that Sakyou is open for help. He can't imagine it, having something like that hanging over one's shoulders, thinking that one has to deal with it on their own to keep other's safe.]
[I'ts why, despite everything he's learned about Sakyou, he can't help but admire it. That deep down, he just wants to keep people out of harm's way.]
[He reaches over to gently brush his fingers against the back of the other's hand, trying to be reassuring.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[Maybe weeks ago, he would've snapped, and said for everyone to leave him alone. Now, having lost people who he was deeply close to, he feels the void of emptiness they left behind.]
[It feels crushing, like the weight of a black hole.]
I don't mind. [He says, his voice quiet.] I just...can't believe it. I don't want to believe it.
no subject
There's a little sigh - like a breath he'd been holding in - and something like an empathetic trill of concern, which he feels on Mandricardo's behalf.]
Byleth-dono... There was always a chance someone would act against her and take matters into their own hands. [...] I didn't expect Wang Lu-san, but he fits a pattern of victim.
[Guys (Usually With Swords) Who Can Presumably Defend Themselves To A Degree, but thinking about that just makes him furious all over again, and a little guilty, too.]
no subject
[There's almost something in the way his emotions move with that, the way they seem hard and sharp, but he lets out a breath, and they relax into the cloud of fury and grief.]
But...Wang Lu............
[His expression cracks a little - he almost looks like he's about to cry, but he swallows it down.]
It should have been me, instead of him.
no subject
Still, there's no hiding the little stinging pang he feels when he hears that, or the way the melancholy seems to rise up a bit in that swirling undercurrent of emotions that hovers below his anger. His hands fold together, fingers twisting.]
...Please don't say such a thing.
[It isn't scolding so much as plaintive, though some guilt accompanies it. Humans really do end up playing favorites quite often, don't they? There's no way he could say that he'd rather Mandricardo continue living even though it means the deaths of others around them, as true as it is. So he just says, quietly:]
Your death would have been mourned as well.
no subject
[That melancholy...]
[It crushes his expression further. Its getting harder to stay composed, like this, especially with someone here who he feels for, maybe more than most. Sakyou's feelings are like an axe cracking down the door, and he's too weak to stop it.]
It's not about bein' mourned. It...it isn't about that! I'd rather fade away for good knowin' I could save all of you.
[But he can't. Again, here he stands.]
[Useless, useless, useless.]
I'm just a stupid fucking Heroic Spirit. At least...at least so many here have lives and friends and families to go back to. And all my loved ones are here. And I can't do a thing for them.
no subject
He doesn't know what he can do, either. When other people are hurting so badly, what is there to do? Guilt strangles him; they're two of a kind, wanting to do more and more and unable to do anything at all. Hah. What a funny joke. What peak entertainment for whatever cruel entities seem to enjoy watching them suffer and struggle and fail.
A few seconds pass in silence. The knot of Sakyou's fingers turns white at the knuckles, lips pressed into a thin, grim line.]
...I know that it's painful, being unable to do anything. To feel powerless in the face of something we can't even understand... I know this. [It's the same for him, after all.]
But if it is a personal failing of yours that you haven't managed to do impossible feats here, then it's a failing we all share.
[They're all powerless! That's fun! He's in despair.]
no subject
[Over and over and over again.]
I know we're findin' out more stuff. About that daycare or whatever. But damn it-! I can't keep doin' this.
[There's just...exhaustion setting in his bones, here, underneath all the rage, all the grief. Like if he could just lay here, and close his eyes, and sleep forever, wouldn't that be nice...?]
[But it would help no one here to do that.]
[He shifts, before leaning his head against the other's shoulder, his eyes burning with tears.]
If the person responsible for this mess were here right now...I'd cut out his organs, one by one, and watch him bleed. And even that isn't good enough.
no subject
Likewise, his words are quiet, despite the intensity of the fury behind them. He's done it before and he would do it again, twisting flesh into something unrecognizable and lashing out mercilessly in his hatred and rage.]
It would be a good thing, to make such a person regret existing in this world.
[There's a little flicker of something else in his emotions which is harder to pin down, but seems vaguely discomforted. His gaze drops toward his side, where the sword rests ever-present at his hip.]
...But I agree. We cannot carry on like this indefinitely.
no subject
[His feelings nestle, like a bird out from the storm angrily settling into some wooden groove in a tree out from the rain. Still stewing in his emotions, but a little less all over the place.]
[He also glances towards that sword. Swords are important things. Mandricardo sought a sword, obtained it, and then died with it in his hands.]
[And Sakyou's sword...]
...Your sword. [He glances at it again.] Was it made to cut down demons?
no subject
Though when Mandricardo addresses his sword, those emotions shift again. The brief unsettled vibe increases, along with something close to agitation. Despite the careful control he has over his expression, it's clear he's very discomforted and unhappy. His gaze flicks away from the blade, shifting out toward the trees ahead of them. The barely-there touch against the side of Mandricardo's head lifts a little.
He hesitates, tension pitching his shoulders up.]
...No, it wasn't. [...] This sword is not my own. Rather than being made to cut down demons, I believe it is a demonic entity.
no subject
[There's no judgement, just curiosity and worry for Sakyou. To kill demons but having a demon at one's side...]
A demonic entity? A demon against demons...?
no subject
Well. Hiding things probably won't do anyone much good in the long run, here. So, with a sigh that doesn't really allow any of his tension to abate:]
A demon against anything. ...My sword - my actual sword, Hotarumaru - is the one that I used up until very recently. That is the sword entrusted to me by my father, and the one that has cut down every demon in my path. [HOO there's a big surge of guilt there, but he tamps down on it pretty quickly. Then, quietly and simply:] Muramasa is a demon blade that rivals the gods. It would fell anything that it desires to see dead.
[Which is everything! Demon swords are wild. Anyway that'll probably be good for whenever they come across whoever the fuck is responsible for this, at least(????)!]
no subject
...My father also had a sword that I searched for, high and wide. That was stolen from his corpse.
[That he eventually stole back. But of course, this is different - he's merely echoing the feelings deep inside. The name "Muramasa" seems familiar. Something in a history book, perhaps. A sword maker? He doesn't know the details.]
Did...did your father know what it was?
no subject
...Is it something you were able to find again, in the end?
[For as little as it could have ultimately done, given a sword won't bring the dead back to life.
Then, a note of discomfort, a little guilt once more.]
Even those with knowledge would likely have thought very little of it. It seems more like a ridiculous legend than anything.
no subject
[It wasn't right. He took an oath to get it back properly, and here he just stole it, like a dog would pick up a bone.]
But...I'm guessin' you've seen its power for yourself. You know what power it holds.
no subject
Sakyou just frowns at literally all of that, though.]
But...?
[Just a gentle prompting; he doesn't seem like he'll push if Mandricardo doesn't want to continue speaking. Anyway, at the last bit, the discomforted vibes Only Increase, but with it this time comes a healthy dose of agitation and a fair amount of trepidation.]
...I - don't believe I've seen what it's fully capable of yet. But I have an idea.
no subject
But then...well, you saw it. I had it in my possession, used, it and then got killed in a duel that wasn't even against the man who killed my father.
[WHICH IS. A SORE VERY SORE SPOT]
[And now the discomfort is matched with Mandricardo's concern, heightening. He's worried for Sakyou. Worried about what this means.]
And...what does it mean?
no subject
But ah. Hm. Welp. So that was the blade he'd fetched back... He sure knows how painful it is to lose while relying on a sword passed down from your father! Wow. There's a wave of empathy, a little sorrow, and a thin line of anger on Mandricardo's behalf that cuts through it. Always, always angry.]
...It's a painful thing, to lose something you only just got back. To lose it in such a way.
[And a sentimental object is basically a stand-in for dead people, damn.]
Is there any way for you to get it back now? Or has it been lost...?
[Also don't worry for him get that worry away. Sakyou just shakes his head.]
It's nothing to worry about here.
no subject
[Maybe a different Servant Class, maybe he just needs to do something right, anything right.]
[He doesn't know.]
[And sorry, the worry isn't going away.]
But when you're not here? When you're back to where you should be? Is it...going to eat your soul, or something?
no subject
...I hope that you're able to find and meet those conditions, then. I hope that you can obtain it again someday.
[If nothing else, Mandricardo deserves that. To keep what little he can of his father.
Anyway good question! Terrible question. Sakyou's radiating vibes that indicates he very much does not want to touch upon this subject, but... Well. He glances down toward the sword again, brow furrowed.]
I don't know. [HE DOESN'T KNOW SHIT.] But I've been held in its sway before, and remember very little of that time. [...] I intend to destroy it before returning.
no subject
[me looking at fate/go like give me summer mandi right now k thanks]
It's...sway?
[Oh. Oh no. Now things are startling to settle into place. About why, exactly, Sakyou is so reluctant to let anyone on his path.]
C-Can we do it? Can we make that happen, here?
no subject
There's a little bit of lingering softness for a moment though, for the possibility of Mandricardo receiving the sword he's missing.
But yeah, haha! Funny. Demon swords are wild. Sakyou purses his lips, quiet for a second before aiming for something a little more reassuring, he hopes.]
I believe it's possible. For the time being, its voice holds no power; it isn't a threat.
no subject
Do you need help with that?
no subject
...I may.
[Quiet, careful.]
But it's something we can discuss later.
[Mandricardo lost is wholeass boyfriend, after all.]
no subject
[He's glad that Sakyou is open for help. He can't imagine it, having something like that hanging over one's shoulders, thinking that one has to deal with it on their own to keep other's safe.]
[I'ts why, despite everything he's learned about Sakyou, he can't help but admire it. That deep down, he just wants to keep people out of harm's way.]
[He reaches over to gently brush his fingers against the back of the other's hand, trying to be reassuring.]
Whenever you feel you're ready.
(no subject)