deercountry | 🦅 🦅 🦅

[ the rattling of machine guns and booms of missiles crackle nonstop over the open tops of the trenches— that’s how this memory starts. men shout battle cries whilst holding and aiming their rifles, or some simply shriek in terror as they run right into the barricade they’re commanded to. the earth doesn’t stop shaking, and you’d think it was because of the bombs— until the explosions felt more like steps. overhead, the massive silhouette of an armored and equipped titan attacks the enemy’s post, ripping their cover clean off and allowing marleyan soldiers to finish the job that’s left below. one man from the opposite side is thrown close to marleyan trenches and takes a nasty blow to the head, right where falco (young thing he was, too small for this place yet uniformed like the adults were) can see him. He’s accompanied by a smaller group of children that either fix their bearings or help their own.

you’re at war, now. the smell is sharp, the sensation of gravel and mud beneath your boots or at your fingertips are true and the sounds are crisp, like being there. you might as well be one of them, they all seem to act that way, especially when your actions will make a difference. well, in this playthrough.

with most of the enemy fire away from their post, the blond boy crawls up the trench’s wall and rushes for the downed man as if he were one of his own— and he’s the only who does. ]

I’m coming to get you—!

[ but that doesn’t stop open fire from grazing his metal helmet, forcing him to dive low into the scrapes of dirt with the only cover too far from his reach. ]

[ Luna knows war, she knows the sound of battle. Her own world is deeply entrenched in it, and she herself in the midst of it. The chaos of the battle around her is deeply familiar, it makes her stomach twist in horror, the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. But this...? It's like nothing she's ever seen before.

The giant that looms has her staring for a moment, but she doesn't have much time to dwell. She ducks, her wand out at the ready, eyes wide as she throws herself into it all. She doesn't know how she ended up in this, or even who's memory this is but she needs to be careful.

Until she sees a boy scurrying up the trench wall and over. No one follows. Luna stares in horror, rushing down the line: what is he doing? ]

Wait, no, stop—! [ But he's already over, right into the firing line. These aren't spells, they're those Muggle weapons she's heard about. It all happens so quickly, he's down into the earth — stuck. Still no one follows. Luna inhales sharply; he can't be just left there—!

She throws herself up the trench wall, heaving herself over it and crouching low as she makes her way through. Her cries of shield charms lost over the noise; blue-white barriers twisting in the air from her wand to cover her from fire as she hurries fast as she can towards him, sliding down into the dirt, a hand reaching for his shoulder. She can shield them, but they need more cover, some cleft in the earth to hide in. Something, anything better than this. ]

Can you hear me—? [ Maybe she can carve into the dirt a little deeper with a spell, offer them a little more protection. ] I've got you, I've got you— it's alright.

[ any stray bullets come and deflect— to falco’s surprise, it’s a young woman, hardly in uniform, shielding him as the cart took out the artillery that shot at them in the first place. they may get some breathing room from the rapid fire, luna would find, replaced by the yells of men beneath the firing shots of the titan and marleyan scouts taking them out with rifles— like cornered animals.

falco himself breathes hard into the girl’s arms, but hardly let’s go of the weight in his. ]

He’s our prisoner now— [ as they moved, as he thrusted all the arm power a child could possible bare, it becomes apparent that prisoner of war is just an excuse, he’s following the law strictly. he’s trying so hard, he’s risking himself for an enemy. the look in his eyes, finally, says it all: he doesn’t have the heart of a soldier. ] I have to help him!

[ he has the heart of someone good, at their core, and at the very least, he shouldn’t be here. but, he is. ]

[ It's a small mercy, at least. Hard to keep casting over and over; she's quick but not that quick. But there's another kind of horror when she realises just why they're getting a break from the firing — she stares in stunned silence, panting hard. She's never seen a giant like that before.

... Prisoner—?

It's a word that shakes her, she knows what that word means. She's been in that very position, locked down in the dark and cold for months on end. She looks to the man briefly before her gaze flicks back to the boy — no, no it's a very different look. Not the one like those who came for her. ]

Alright, alright— [ Help him. It's very different indeed, and Luna swallows thickly, nodding. ] But we must be very careful.

[ The man's injured, looks like. Dragging a deadweight through an open, active battlefield is definitely a recipe for disaster. Maybe they can wait or out, or something — help carry him, she doesn't know. ]

We can't die, too. Or we won't be able to help him at all.

[ agh, falco grunts, furrowing his brows and for once wishing the muscle he’d grow in a few more years was already in— he’s too small to do it quickly, but he does strain himself with everything he’s got to make the woman’s defenses count. ]

The trench, Miss—! [ falco looks backwards, just over his shoulder at a decline in the dirt. ] It’s just a few steps back! You can go first!

[ there were helmets there, walking through the dug up pathways left and right to tend to the rest of the folk in it. they have their open window of opportunity to haul him him, and each other, down while they could. ]

Right. [ She looks back the way towards the trench, swallows thickly. They can do this, she thinks. They'll make it. It's not far. But the poor boy's struggling with the weight and she stops before making a run for it. ]

Let me help you with him. An arm on each shoulder, we can move him better that way. [ She isn't much in terms of physical strength, but surely two people helping the man is better than one. They'll be able to manage between the two of them. ] I can multi-task.

[ If need be, Luna thinks. At the moment the way is clear with the break in fire, which makes things easier for now. She turns to reach for the wounded man, manoeuvring an arm over her shoulder and then readies her wand — counting to him. ]

On three: one... two... now—!

[ falco readies his positioning and shifts from carrying both the man’s arms to hooking a single shoulder around his. definitely, this way they could make it much faster. ]

Okay—!

[ on now, the boy springs his strength to his knees and upper body, and pulls side by side with luna. should they keep walking, they’ll hear shots— but none in their direction. in a matter of moments, they’ll be able to reach the trench unscathed. ]

We made it— Oh, quickly, [ they just need to adjust the man, heavily unconscious with a sharp blow to the head for now. quickly, falco works to get bandages and stints from his nearby colleagues; only four of them are children, but uniformed just as the adults. ] Thank you, miss— you helped save his life.

[ he seems to be disregarding his own, but perhaps . . .

that was part of the whole trauma, from being here so young. ]

[ Luna keeps an eye on where the fire had come from before, hurrying as fast as she can. But fortunately, none does come and with the help of them working together with the wounded man on each of their shoulders, they're even more fortunate to head back towards the trench.

She's still exhausted as they make it, panting as they set the poor man down and set about trying to work on his injury. Luna wishes she had something more with her, she's not very good at healing magic. Fixing broken toes and wrapping up is fine, but much more than that is a bit tricky. At least she picked up a little basic first aid while in Deerington. ]

It was the right thing to do. [ Wasn't it? Even if this man is now a prisoner of these soldiers. These... children, in amongst the adults. Luna's brow pinches. It's familiar, achingly so.

She keeps the man steady, upright while he can be tended to but she's looking at the boy now: ]

Are you hurt, at all? [ She swallows thickly; the next part doesn't come out as chastising, but like a simple fact: ] You could have gotten yourself killed out there.

I’m fine, [ he’s only got his blow to the head earlier, but that was it. coming out unscathed in a war like this one was close to a miracle, especially on the front lines. ] . . . We have to be out here.

[ this was their final exam, after all; they were all technically competing amongst themselves for a shot at being treated with basic human rights, them and their family. inheritance meant safety. for falco, it meant safety for more than one person that wasn’t himself.

the man begins to come to and mumble— but the language isn’t their own, and it isn’t something any of them could understand. falco brightens a touch, telling another boy to please translate for them, and to tell the man that he’ll be alright, his injuries have been tended to— but the boy gravely replies: “don’t touch me. you’ll corrupt me. devil . . . is what he said”. when one of the marleyan soldiers overseeing the trench overhears, he guffaws, loudly— condescendingly. and falco, along with the other children, go completely quiet with their heads down. still working, but down.

falco, especially, wears the expression of one who has just been thrown to the dirt. ]

[ We have to be out here. It sits within her heavy like a stone, her expression grave, shoulders dropping. She... understands that. To fight, to have to fight. There's a slow nod as she dwells on it, quiet for a moment before the wounded man stirs. She watches the exchange, and it's as if a switch has been flicked, all with the power of a half dozen or so words.

Luna stiffens at that, watches the children all going still and downcast — even the boy beside her, who'd been so exhilarated at the fact he'd managed to help save the man from out in the battlefield. She might not understand what's going on here, what the man could possibly mean with something like that — they're just children — but she understands unkindness when she sees it. How the soldier overseeing laughs at the children's dismay.

Her eyes narrow, expression shifting into a particular iciness that rarely comes out beneath the dreaminess of her. She looks to the boy who'd translated for the man, the coldness isn't for the boy but she can't help the bite in her voice. ]

Tell him perhaps he should be more thankful to those who saved his life. If that were me, I wouldn't go around calling people devils.

[ She reaches for the boy beside her, gently places her hand on his shoulder — her expression softening once again. ]

Don't pay any mind to him. [ She offers it gently. ] It was brave, to risk yourself like that for someone you don't even know. You did very well.

[ udo (the translator, the one with the glasses) sucks in his lips and goes wide eyed, looking between the witch and the wounded soldier. all of those in immediate vicinity have their attention taken before quietly scurrying back to their posts, without saying a word— falco, on the other hand, continues to watch luna with with both surprise and worry; he doesn’t wish for the higher ups to hear, who knows what would happen to her for speaking out of line, for insubordination— even if she truly wasn’t one of them.

when the air actually seems calmer than it’s ever been, falco too, brings his tense shoulders to an ease, dipping his head in acknowledgement. his voice goes quiet, soft and careful of the ears around them. once he’s finished his tending, he finds a spot, with his back against the dirt trench wall, to rest by her side. ]

Thank you, Miss. [ and now, for a truth that he doesn’t get to spill often (not because it’s a secret, but because he never truly had the chance or situation to say so, ] It makes a difference, if you think that.

[ there’s something missing— ]

I’m Falco.

[ The others slowly fall away in time, back to their duties. Luna stands a little longer — her eyes burning into the wounded soldier's face before she pulls away to go and sit. She needs a moment to recollect herself. This place is not hers, and she needs to find a way back to Trench. Perhaps it might simply come back in time, all she can really go is wait.

The boy comes back to her once he's done. She looks up, her brow pinching slightly as he thanks her. Of course she thinks that; he risked his life for that soldier. An enemy one, no less. Even if the idea of keeping him prisoner doesn't sit easy in her, it means the alternative of death is off the table. She hopes. Perhaps they'll treat him kindly. Kinder than she was treated. ]

Doing the right thing is sometimes very difficult. [ Life-threatening, in this case. ] And you did it anyway. It was brave.

[ There's a small smile. ]

I'm Luna.

[ some form of odd recognition sparks through falco’s eyes— for some reason he distantly remembers the name, tries to parse it out of himself. his memory slowly begins to come undone the more he tugs on what felt more like the present to him. so he asks, with careful words and tentative remembrance: ]

You’re . . . Aren’t you Peter’s—?

[ he trails off the words, but clearly ends it with a question— just as the clip of cloven hooves thud against beaten earth and the crystalized antlers of the mourning stag begin to rise above the trench’s line of sight.

it seems like luna won’t have to wait long, to return to wherever she had remembered being in beforehand. ]

[ Her expression gives an answer before she can speak: Aren’t you Peter’s—? She brightens at the mention of the name, eyebrows raising and the barest hint of a smile curling at the corners of her mouth. He knows Peter, and in turn about her. Which... isn't surprising, really.

But the sound of hooves makes her look up, the smile slipping into a look of open wonder. Luna slowly gets back to her feet to get a good look, mesmerized by the sight of it. She's... read about this creature, Rituals of Trench. And while some kinds of illustrations are not nearly as accurate, there's no mistaking it: a great white stag, a circle of icy antlers. It's beautiful.

And then, quietly, she realises: a Winter Mourning brought her here. That's how she ended up in this boy's memory. ]

The Winter Mourning Stag. [ Spoke in a whisper. ] It comes when it's time.

[ Time for the memory to end. ]

[ —she was. that's all that was needed for falco to understand, and while he doesn't quite smile, his own features seem soft and uplifted. the mourning stag raises itself beautifully, and now it feels cold as the memory of this place dims, the people hum rather than speak, and the blasts or gunfire is nothing but a whispering pop. it's as if he were about to sleep again and couldn't keep his consciousness awake for too long, but he could for this, he thinks, and raises his hand to get a hold of luna's sleeve in a tender tug, one that only hopes to get her attention. ]

Can I find you, Miss Luna—?

[ he hopes she heard that, because he would. they'd have plenty to talk about, that was for certain. ]

[ It's an oddly peaceful end to a moment so loud and chaotic, like the hushed quiet of a snowy scene. She feels tired, but pleasantly so. That she might simply melt into sleep in a few seconds. Until she feels the gently tug of her sleeve. It certainly does get her attention; even if she's slow to react.

She manages to drag her gaze from the Mourning Stag, eyebrows raised in curiosity for a moment. Can he find her—? She raises a finger to her face, points to her eye. ]

Gaze. [ Where he might find her. And then she smiles gently with a single nod. ] You can find me.

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i gotchu with a good one for such an occasion 😘 cw for war imagery & child soldiers

i'm so sorry this is so late ;o;

there is no such thing as a late tag . . . only a golden tag 🙏

u flatter me ;o;

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do you want to keep going with them back in Trench or wrap here? I'm good with either!

we can wrap up here and handwave the trench meet, if that's okay!

that works! ❤