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 Posted: Sat Jan 08, 2022 1:01 am
Elodie inhaled, tensely.
He had no idea.
This man--this poor, lost soul--had wandered his planet for a thousand years, unaware of how badly the rest of the universe had fallen apart. The thought of it struck her to the core; the tragedy laid out in front of her. Brielle looked tense and uncomfortable too, and Elodie could hardly blame her, because there was something terrible hanging in the air, here.
It felt wrong. To cut in, to introduce herself. There seemed to be a knife's edge that everything was hanging on, now. But....perhaps...
"I...my name is Elodie. Fólkvangr of Ganymede. My ancestor, Satine, her ghost is on my Wonder...she might be able to help you understand?"
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Posted: Sat Jan 08, 2022 10:29 am
Despite the heavy guzzling of her wine, Paris was trying to be level-headed about everything. Even if none of it made any sense.
Only it did sort of make sense, didn’t it? In a way. Somehow, Devyn survived on his world. He wasn’t a time traveler (probably) or some other alien in disguise (at least she was fairly sure). He was Devyn. Not an impersonator, not a descendent with a remarkable resemblance, not a ghost, but Devyn. The one she knew from another life; the one Liesel knew, rather. Centuries ago. A thousand years, or more, now.
Maybe something happened to make time pass differently on Alastor. Maybe he’d been in some sort of stasis like Lucasta, only his memories weren’t affected to the extent that hers had been.
They could find out. It would be awkward, and painful, but with the right questions and a bit of guidance, they could sort things out, and… help him, somehow.
Except Paris had no idea where to even begin, and she didn’t think it was fair to anyone that Michael (and Peter, to an extent, but mostly Michael) had brought Devyn here for an explanation when he knew enough to give one himself.
Michael, who stepped back, like he could hide or avoid the subject while Chris took on the difficult task of dashing Devyn’s hopes.
Paris stepped in to grab Michael’s arm and roughly yanked him back with her to Brielle and Elodie.
“You know who he is,” she hissed at him, low so her voice wouldn’t carry too far. “You know exactly who he is. He’s been here for how long and you haven’t bothered to tell him anything? What did you think was going to happen when you brought him here? You think you can avoid it, let Chris and me deal with the hard part so you can go on pretending, when you know—”
She slapped at his chest with her free hand, near his heart, half expecting she would find the necklace he received from the alien shopkeeper hidden beneath his clothes.
She wasn’t wrong.Beau glanced from Devyn and Chris to Paris and Michael. He looked to Peter, then Brielle and Elodie, then Paris and Michael again, before his gaze landed back on Devyn. Beau did not smile this time; he thought the situation might not warrant it, but his demeanor was calm and relaxed even as the tension seemed to rise.
“Can you tell us how long it’s been since you were able to communicate with anyone off world?” he asked.
Having been the one to offer conversation about the war, Beau would have given his powered identity if he didn’t think it might make things worse. Devyn did not immediately accept Chris as Valhalla, who, by Chris’s introduction, Beau assumed Devyn would have known once.
“I understand that this may be difficult, but I assure you we mean no harm. We only want to help.”
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Posted: Sat Jan 08, 2022 11:01 am
Michael didn’t resist as Paris grabbed his arm to yank him back. He didn’t think the roughness was necessary, but he probably deserved it. He kept his eyes lowered and away from hers, at least until her hand found the necklace--
“Be careful,” he requested, his eyes pleading as he looked at her face, his hand reaching to replace hers with his own against his chest, as though to protect the probably fragile orb. It was over a thousand years old, after all.
Of course he knew who Devyn was. But how was he supposed to be the only one to tell him everything?
“I wanted to give him a chance to know there are people willing to help him,” he tried to explain, keeping his own voice lowered. It was awkward explaining when Brielle and Elodie could hear him. As far as he was aware, unless someone else told them, they wouldn’t have known he was any more magical than the children were. Both Brielle and Elodie were offering their help, their identities. It was better than just him and Peter sitting in a room, trying to explain things that Chris and their father could explain better.
Or…
Maybe he was just a coward.
Maybe he didn’t want to be the one to break Devyn’s heart. Because for whatever reason, even though he had no connection to the past, it still felt like his own heart would break. It felt like it was breaking now. Or maybe it was the fluctuations of the orb against his heart.
Maybe he wasn’t ready for Devyn to leave. Because why would he stay once he found out? Chris took in a deep breath and released it slowly. He could feel the shift, the tension that suddenly filled the air. He watched Devyn, sympathetic that he was learning something that would be difficult to process.
He was grateful to Brielle and Elodie trying to speak to Devyn as well, and his father was understanding as well. Chris could hear Paris talking to Michael in a hushed tone somewhere nearby, but not what she was saying. He assumed it was because Michael should have been the one to tell Devyn, although he understood that Michael might not have wanted to shoulder the burden alone. Claire frowned sadly at the shift in everyone’s tone. This was not a good start to a Christmas dinner, but she also understood that Devyn was there for answers. He must have been waiting for so long, so she hugged her husband tight as the others slowly tried to help Devyn make sense of things.“He is Valhalla,” Peter frowned, crossing his arms over his poinsettia floral button down shirt. “I know he’s not the one you’re looking for, but… We’ll help you however we can. We’ve helped this far, haven't we? So… trust us for a bit longer?”
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Posted: Sat Jan 08, 2022 11:29 am
Devyn didn’t know Cybele. He didn’t know Fólkvangr, or Satine. Did he? His mind had stalled. Did they sound familiar? The fog was back, and he didn’t have the energy to try and push through. He had met a lot of people, in a lot of places, but they felt foreign to him right now. He didn't have the capacity to sift through memories for them right now.
The house had been a comfortable temperature a few seconds ago, but now Devyn just felt cold. He hadn’t moved yet, and it didn’t seem like he was going to. His heart might have been pounding, but he was doing a good job of keeping any emotion he was feeling tucked away.
Maybe it was rude that he only responded to Cybele and Fólkvangr with a slight nod, but it was difficult when he was otherwise distracted by Paris grabbing Michael’s arm. He couldn’t make out what she was saying, but he could see her hitting his chest. He could see the way Michael just let her.
He didn’t like that. He couldn't explain it, but it didn’t sit well with him. He didn’t like that Michael had been easing himself back since they got there, or that he was being manhandled, or that he looked so–what, so worried?
“It’s fine,” he said, maybe a little too roughly. It wasn’t fine, but he managed to sound like he was brushing aside a minor inconvenience.
“I trust you, yes,” he said to Peter, but he wasn’t looking at him. He was still watching Michael, and Paris, like he was worried that someone should intervene.
He didn’t; he didn’t move at all.
He didn’t smile, didn’t seem angry, didn’t seem confused.
He was just there. Guarded, more now than before, but otherwise unreadable.
Briefly, his eyes went to Beau. “I don’t know how long it’s been. I haven’t kept track." His answer brisk, but as vague in tone as he was in demeanor. “A while,” was as definitive an answer as he could give.
It was difficult, yes. Devyn could believe that they meant no harm. He could trust that they only wanted to help.
He wasn’t sure if he was ready to believe that Chris was Valhalla, or that he could trust they were right.
Peter only asked for a bit longer.
No one had mentioned Percy.
Maybe Serge was the only tie they had.
So instead of asking for Percy, he asked, “What happened to Serge?”
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Posted: Sat Jan 08, 2022 2:35 pm
She still didn't know a lot of what was going on. She had no idea what had happened to Serge. She had no idea what Michael was wearing under his shirt that he seemed so uncomfortable with Paris reaching for. She still didn't know exactly what it was that Michael even knew. It seemed likely that he was connected somehow, which would leave him as a knight or something, but she couldn't be sure. She knew one thing, though. She knew that Paris was upset. Brielle, herself, might have been a bit upset. No, she didn't think it was great that Michael had finally shown up for a holiday meal just to bring up some sort of inter-generational drama that she could just tell was about to get even worse. Although, that may have just been projecting. Paris had done so much for her that she tended to agree with Paris no matter what the subject was. She did not say anything more, but she did place a supportive hand on Paris's shoulder, and her gaze flicked from person to person, one at a time.
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Posted: Sat Jan 08, 2022 3:32 pm
Chris wasn’t worried about Michael. If anything, he was a little annoyed that Michael was leaving this to him, and to Paris, to explain everything. They would take the brunt of any emotional backlash, not Michael.
But that was fine. It was Michael’s choice to tell Devyn what he knew or not.
“He died,” Chris said after a few moments. There was no real emotion behind the comment, except for maybe continued sympathy for Devyn. “In one of the two ways he would have preferred: in glorious battle.”
The last part was said just a bit sarcastically, but anyone who knew his personal opinion of Serge (which was really only Paris and maybe his brothers), would know that he didn’t particularly care for him. Serge was harsh and cold in most ways. He could show compassion, and was fiercely protective, but Chris’ memories only revealed those emotions when it came to Liesel, and to Percy.
“Devyn,” Chris said gently, wanting to make sure he had the other’s attention. “That was over a thousand years ago. Chaos took over Valhalla, took over all of Jupiter. Ganymede fell before that, but Liesel was with Serge at the end.”
That he knew. He’d seen the field. He knew that Serge fell before Liesel. That he faded in his then husband’s arms.
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Posted: Sat Jan 08, 2022 5:07 pm
Devyn’s attention finally, firmly, shifted to Chris.
He had no reason to believe Chris, and maybe he wouldn’t have if Peter and Michael hadn’t been looking after him the past few days. It was completely impractical, completely implausible, and completely impossible–
Well, no. That wasn’t quite right.
How many people knew that Serge–that Liesel–
Who would have used those names, together?
Devyn’s thoughts were muddy. It was easier to be aware of how cold he was, how far away his hands felt, how far away he felt.
Like vertigo, without the spinning. He felt displaced for three reasons.
The first, because it was difficult to reconcile with the fact that Serge could have been killed, in battle or otherwise. The second, because Chris claimed it had been a thousand years. Devyn was not a thousand years old–obviously–and time did not pass so differently on his world, or Jupiter, or Earth.
The third, because he said Chaos took over all of Jupiter, and that would have meant–
That Percy was here, on Earth. Obviously. Of course. Because if Jupiter wasn’t safe, he would have retreated to Earth. Where he had family. Where they were thriving. Obviously.
Devyn remained unreadable.
His thoughts went from mud to sludge, and it slipped from his mind to his blood to his stomach. He was quiet as he processed what he was told, and he treated it like it was the truth–because Peter had asked.
So, Devyn pretended like it was true. He showed no outward changes, though perhaps now seemed a bit more brittle than before. His gaze shifted from Chris, to Michael and Paris, and then back again.
Slowly. What was the rush?
If he’d waited–a thousand years–what was a few minutes more? This was fine.
He was quiet when he spoke again, but didn’t sound upset. Contemplative, maybe. Distant, certainly. “What would you have me do with this information?”
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Posted: Tue Jan 11, 2022 4:48 pm
Paris was unmoved by Michael’s excuse. The fact of the matter was, he could have told Devyn at any time, but he chose not to; he chose to bring Devyn here and have other people do the explaining for him. By telling him nothing, he allowed Devyn to have hope that he might encounter familiar faces here on Earth, that the people he once knew might still be alive.
How was it that Devyn didn’t remember? How was it he didn’t already know that Serge was dead? Did the information never leave Jupiter? Or was Alastor already cut off from everything else at that point? Paris hadn’t thought that would be the case, but… she didn’t often dwell on what happened at the end of Liesel’s life.
She remembered the rain on Jupiter, how it mixed with the blood on the field. She remembered watching the light in Serge’s eyes go dim. She remembered the weight of his body. She remembered looking into the clouds, wishing they’d part just once, just enough that Ganymede might be visible. She remembered a figure approaching, and the sight of a bloodied blade.
A hand on her shoulder drew Paris out of her memories. She gave a start and turned, saw Brielle there and managed to drag herself back to the present.
“I’m okay,” she said. The hand felt comforting, which meant Brielle was probably worried, or uncomfortable. “Sorry. This is so awkward.”
It was awkward for everyone, of course, but remembering added another layer to it. Paris wasn’t even the person who experienced those events, they just sat in her head, taking up space, not nearly as useful and she wished they were.
Paris inhaled deep and let it out slow. She gave Michael one last disapproving look, then set her wine aside on the nearest flat surface.
“Devyn,” she called to him, turning toward the others, though she didn’t step closer, wary that any more people in such close proximity might feel smothering. “What do you remember before Alastor lost contact?”Quote: Sorry for my late tag! The last few days have been a disaster!
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Posted: Tue Jan 11, 2022 8:31 pm
Michael kept his eyes lowered as Paris looked at him with disapproval. He knew he should have told Devyn. He could still tell Devyn. But what good would that do?
Maybe he wouldn’t have a few days ago when they’d just met, but Michael wondered if Devyn would actually trust him if he told him everything he wanted to know. He hadn’t given him any reason not to trust him yet. Or at least not as far as Devyn was aware. Michael was kind of withholding important information from him. Maybe that would be enough to lose his trust. Chris sighed, and part of him wished that Paris was closer so he could wrap an arm around her for a little bit of comfort. Talking about how people died wasn’t pleasant. They’d seen too much death already -- they didn’t need to remember it from another lifetime, too.
“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Take some time to process things? Stay and eat with us? And then we can sit with you as you work things out, if you’d like,” he offered. He didn’t bother pointing out how horrible it all was.
“I’m sorry you had to find out like this. If there was a better way…” It was like ripping off a bandage. Sometimes it was better to just get it over with. “You’re not alone, unless you want to be. In which case you’ll only be alone for as long as you need to be,” Peter said as he leaned against the counter. Things were getting pretty awkward, but at least Devyn seemed to be holding it together. He didn’t seem the type to have a big emotional display, though.
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Posted: Wed Jan 12, 2022 6:39 am
There was a heaviness in the air, a discomfort, that Devyn seemed acutely aware of. Probably because he was at the source of it.
When he didn’t want to confront the implications of this information, it was easier to remind himself that they were here to celebrate, to have their family meal, to appreciate the holidays together. He was a guest, and they’d been generous enough to invite him for answers.
Of course he had questions, he had a thousand questions.
They said Serge was dead and that time had passed but he was here. So others could have been. Should have been. Were. Obviously.
His mind felt like it was held together by poorly stitched threads and he had a headache almost immediately. He ignored the threads. He ignored the headache.
He didn’t know if it was better to be alone or not, because–he and Serge hadn’t been that close. It was jarring news, but it wasn’t what he had come here for. Percy must know already. He was probably devastated.
A thousand years?
He couldn’t wrap his head around it.
“A storm,” he answered, finally looking at Paris. “The clouds rolled in and didn’t leave.” There wasn’t anything remarkable about it, nothing–
He felt the immediate sensation of needles pricking through his eyes, into his head.
Nothing worth remembering.
He’d spent enough time being alone, it wasn’t something he wanted. Why should he need to be? Everything was fine. Except, Serge was dead. But that didn’t mean–
He nodded to Peter, because he heard him but he wasn’t sure what there was to say about it. He’d heard Chris too, but it felt like much of the same.
Was there a better way to find out anything? Bad news was bad news no matter the delivery.
He nodded again, maybe grateful for Chris’ kind words, or just going through the motions.
Maybe he was trying to be obliging, because he hadn’t come here with any intention to disrupt their evening. He didn’t want to disrupt it now, either. Any more than he already had, at least.
If there was something else he should have said, he couldn’t find the words. So, he nodded again, because that was something easy. He didn’t have to control his breathing and his voice and his questions. He could just be there.
He didn’t know what there was to process. He didn’t feel very hungry. He didn’t feel like sitting.
He didn’t have the answers he wanted.
He wasn’t sure they had them, either.
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Posted: Sat Jan 15, 2022 6:32 am
Paris said she was okay, and Brielle nodded. She accepted that. She pulled her hand back and held on to her own other hand instead, now that she was out of distracting snacks. Devyn did not seem okay, but there was only so much that Brielle could do about that. Apparently talk of the war actually meant talk of Jupiter and the past, and there was not much she could add about that. While all of the other souls here might have been tied up with each other a few generations ago, that was another thing that Cybele had no part of. As far as she knew, she'd been out hunting in the asteroid belt the whole time. There was not much Brielle could do in the present, either. It was not her place to offer the family's help. It barely felt like it was her place to be listening to this at all, and so she stepped back again. She tucked herself into the doorframe of the other room. If they needed her, she'd come out, but there was also plausible deniability there that she wasn't listening, but that she was just watching the Grinch over the kid's shoulders.
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Posted: Sun Jan 16, 2022 11:36 am
Paris watched Brielle step away, knowing she must feel uncomfortable and out of place, like this conversation had no room for her. Paris thought it might, in a way. Devyn’s memories were… altered? Incomplete? Compromised? He was confused, away from home, on a world he must not recognize, in a time he had not realized had come to pass. Their circumstances might be different, but maybe they could relate to one another anyway, through the confusion and sense of displacement both of their circumstances surely caused.
Even so, Paris could not find it in herself to pressure Brielle, to ask more of her than she felt comfortable giving to a stranger, to a family that was hers, but not entirely recognizable despite her place in it.
Paris took another breath. Devyn, then. There was a rather significant problem with him being there, and that problem lied with who he was ultimately searching for.
“When Peter told me about you, he said you were looking for Percy,” Paris said, as delicately as she could. “Sessrumnir. Serge’s brother. I remember him, but… I’m confused as to why you thought Percy might be here. What do you remember of him?”
She remembered a boy first, then a young man, sweet and cheerful where his older brother was aloof and stern — a young man who never had the chance to grow old, whose absence left a gaping wound in all those who cared for him. His brother. His father. His friends. And…Beau did not let his gaze stray over to Michael, but his arm tightened around his wife, a silent signal to say nothing. If Michael had said nothing on the subject, it wasn’t their place to.
He was beginning to understand the problem here, and it was one that had no easy answer.
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Posted: Mon Jan 17, 2022 8:56 pm
Claire wasn’t going to say anything about Michael. She knew how finicky her son was about his identity, and how they only knew who he was by process of elimination. She and Beau had discussed at length how obvious it was to them who Michael was when they were all powered, but it was understandable that he wouldn’t want to bring it up around others.
Especially now that it seemed as though this young man from another World was looking for the person whose starseed now belonged to Michael.
It made her incredibly sad, and she wrapped an arm tighter around her husband. She wasn’t able to completely hide how sad it made her, so she looked around for where Brielle went, wanting to make sure she was okay. She probably felt out of place, but she was still just as welcome there as everyone else. “I remember him, too,” Chris offered, glancing over to where Paris was. He knew she was trying to be gentle about it. He knew they were trying to ease Devyn into realizing that maybe his memories were misplaced, or out of alignment, or maybe the trauma of losing someone he cared for was too much to handle.
“Or I remember him through Serge’s memories,” he explained, because it was so long ago and he only had glimpses of Percy and what he was like. “Serge was overprotective of him. Thought he was too young to be a Knight. Thought it was too dangerous,” he said, recalling one of the first memories he had of Percy visiting Valhalla.
“He seemed sweet. Charming. Tiny compared to everyone on Jupiter,” he added with a sigh, because even Serge was short compared to most of those who were native to that planet. “But he was hopeful and… stubborn. Serge hated that about him, and was also proud of his perseverance.” Michael remained silent, his eyes down at his feet. He didn’t have anything he could add to the conversation that wouldn’t make things more complicated than they were. He could feel the shift in the orb around his neck, like it was struggling to remain steady.
Devyn was piecing things together, whether he wanted to or not. He was a smart man. Resourceful. Knew how to take care of himself. But he must have created a story about Percy being alive to help him move forward.
What was going to happen once he found out that Percy had been dead longer than even Serge or Liesel?
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Posted: Tue Jan 18, 2022 7:49 am
Devyn’s attention was again on Paris, who remembered him but had not said how. He would have had a hard time believing she was old enough to have known them herself, and that stirred something else within him. The emotions gathered in the pit of his stomach and coagulated into a thick, mucky tar. He felt them swirling, heavy and tangible. Like a large meal.
He didn’t think he was going to throw up, but he wasn’t sure yet.
He had bits and pieces of a puzzle but he still couldn’t see the picture.
Peter was a Senshi, he lived with Michael. Michael was Michael, but he was invested in this war and protecting his brother. Brothers? Chris was Valhalla, married to Paris. Michael told Peter to send Paris a picture, Peter told her he was looking for Percy. She knew something. She remembered something. Did she remember like Chris? Or was there something more to that? Maybe she was ‘a thousand years old’. Or maybe she was more than just Paris.
If she had a powered name, he suspected there was a reason she hadn’t given it. Probably. Could she have just forgotten? Why had Peter and Michael wanted to reach out to her first?
Elodie, Fólkvangr. Ganymede. Brielle, a Senshi. Cybele.
Beau, involved in the war, somehow. The others involved, somehow
The pain in his mind was worsening, and every heartbeat sent the needle a little deeper.
He hadn’t said they were brothers, had he? He must have said Percy was Sessrumnir, that wasn’t a secret. Peter could have told her that. But it didn’t mean that she hadn’t known that. He didn’t know her, how could she remember Percy? He was so sure he knew everyone–everyone important–in Percy’s life. There hadn’t been secrets, not about things like that.
And she wanted to know what he remembered of him? As if any part of Percy was in the past.
Devyn was here. So Percy must be, too.
“I know everything about Percy,” he answered instead, polite but firm.
Chris remembered Percy, too, but Devyn was still trying to put his thoughts together about that. To know someone through memories alone wasn’t really knowing them. It wasn’t remembering them.
He said things that Serge would know. He had thought Percy was too young, thought he wasn’t strong enough, was worried he’d be hurt. That wasn’t the problem.
Chris said was, as if Percy wasn’t still hopeful and stubborn and sweet and charming, and tiny to everyone on Jupiter. Or, whoever was left. Percy would have been small compared to half the people in this room.
“I lost contact with everyone at the same time. I tried to send messages out but couldn’t get through. There wasn’t any way off the world, either. But Percy wouldn’t have given up on me, I know he would have tried to reach me. He would have done everything in his power to fix things. And if something happened on Jupiter, he’d have come to Earth. He has family here. And Earth seems to have a surplus of resources. It would have given him what he needed.”
The way they spoke about Percy had him on edge. They remembered him. They did not know him. They had not met him.
And yet, it was perfectly logical for Percy to be here. He was born here. Things were still thriving here.
His head was throbbing and he had to actively control his breathing but this was a skill he’d had to master a long time ago. Outwardly, he managed to appear calm and put together. Inwardly, not so much.
He’d spent the past few days hoping they Percy would be here, or that they’d know where to find him. He wouldn’t say that he was disappointed, but there was a brief second where he thought all of this must be a waste of time.
Percy wasn’t going to show up here. Nobody here knew him, just of him.
It was something, but it wasn’t enough.
And now, he felt sick about it.
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Posted: Tue Jan 18, 2022 3:57 pm
Before Brielle had managed to discover a way to merge completely with the doorframe, she glanced back over towards the gathering, and Momma caught her eye. Momma was looking at her. Momma was looking at her sadly, and while Brielle couldn't be sure with everything else that was going on, she thought that perhaps she didn't want her to run off. Momma had always done everything to make Brielle feel included. The others, too. She could also feel Paris glancing at her, and she swallowed. Then she peeled herself away from the doorframe and took half a step back into the room, towards the others. She just hoped that they would not regret including her, because she could not bear the knife's edge of awkwardness that still gripped the room. She could not bear that there was something being left unsaid, something presumably related to Michael, that was leaving Devyn grasping at straws and sputtering about the unknown. Brielle might not have known anything about Jupiter, or Percy, or Serge, but she knew a thing or two about memories, and coming to terms with the past. "I don't know anything about Sessrumnir, either as Percy Martel or anyone else with that name," she said, "But if anyone else here knows what happened to him, if he outlived Serge, or was cut off like Devyn, or even if he died," Her eyes flicked from Chris to Paris, who had the memories here, to Michael, who was an unknown but who was hiding something, "Devyn deserves to know." She knew better than anyone here that it was hard to move on from things until you knew what they were.
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