deercountry | 🦅 🦅 🦅

[ falco had his first few nights of sleep after his resurgence as a squid quiet and dreamless, perfect for the fatigue his body felt from death, and yet, never really felt rested even when he slept a whole ten to twelve hours without interruption. this time had been the only time he dreamed, vaguely— of following perle to a fire at the edge of trenchwood, of a mare, of the smell of grass and being hugged . . . until he was stirred by the gentle sway given by childe.

he didn’t remember a speck of detail, but he knew he dreamed, and still smelled greenery, too— it took about three tries for falco to successfully open his eyes from the weight put upon them, coming to with more consciousness. the forth try, of his gaze narrowing and turning over his shoulder goes wider when the strike of colored hair jogs a memory that makes his gut drop.

he pulls in a breath, holds it in, and only begins to slowly breathe out as he gathered scattered thoughts and chose a few words to start with. ]

H . . . Hello. [ he’s being chary with his response to deter an overreaction— especially when childe was being rather considerate with him. he can feel his lips getting dry, but flits his tongue quickly across the bottom to remedy the sensation. ] You . . . Helped Mister Bigby— with a sword.

[ the distance between them would have been the only thing to smudge a clear image of the man, like the one he was seeing now, but it wasn’t too off— a bird’s eyes were sharp when it came to distance, and his titan was no different than a very large, partially humanoid bird. ]

Ah, so you do remember me.

[He wasn't sure how that would work. The inner workings of Falco's transformation were still a complete mystery to him, and in fact he'd been prepared to introduce himself. If Falco recognized him as he was now, and not as the monster he'd become for their fight later on, then that means he was conscious for every little detail of their encounter. His words also told him that Bigby, who must of been the monster who ripped his heart out, knew each other. He'd suspected that. What an awful thing to experience.]

I wasn't sure if you were going to recognize me or not. After all, I'll admit I wasn't much of a threat until later on. You can call me Childe, for now.

[At least, Childe wouldn't remember someone insignificant in a fight. But that's just him.

He reaches inside of his jacket, and produces a small bag of what looks like nut bars, each with different kinds of nuts bonded together with honey. No two bars are alike, and he hands it to Falco if he's awake enough to receive it.]

Here, take these. It'll help you regain your strength. It's homemade kozinaki, from my homeland of Snezhnaya.

[ he nods, one fact after another, though he did certainly remember everything. there’s a pique of a thought, a saddened one— but it seems to wash away, first with surprise in widened, awakened eyes, sitting himself upright and crossing his legs to tentatively reach for the contents provided, then, promptly having everything from his lips to his brows soften both gladly and moved. ]

Thank you, Mister Childe . . . [ he’s never heard of them before, and the sweet scent of dried honey stirs both his hunger and sweet tooth into taking one to sample. ] Is anyone— wary?

[ upset? after all of this? ]

There's really no need for such formalities. Only my subordinates need address me with any appropriate titles. Childe will do.

[He really doesn't want to upset him, and even in this small exchange, it's clear to him that whatever happened wasn't something that the boy had wished for. It helps him relax, knowing this boy really wasn't just some mindless monster that decided it was going to wreak havoc. And even if that was the case, he'd be more than delighted in fighting him again, as terrifying as it was.]

A few, yes. But I think they were far more worried about you than anything else. Any innocent bystanders were evacuated, as far as I know. I'm guessing you haven't had much of a chance to speak with anyone else, given that you've been sleeping in here for sometime, if I'm not mistaken.

[ falco’s chest rises and falls; at first, with some steady relief that no one else was harmed or worse beyond himself and dipper, a slight drop in his chest when other’s were more concerned for him than themselves— then came the slow sailing realization that he really did hardly speak to anyone as of late.

too tired, too pained and too uncertain, but that had all masked what he was truly feeling: that he had missed it ever since he decided to keep himself away. falco wasn’t socially bursting with energy, but he was social— and had more than one reason to dislike isolation. ]

Ah, yeah— you’re right. [ but not only because he was too busy sleeping. ] That, and I was . . . Afraid to.

[The Harbinger can hardly blame him for avoiding the people of Trench, his friends, or the ones who'd stopped him. If he'd been afraid, that tells him more- that the transformation into that giant monster was most likely his own. Guilt tended to keep people shy. But, it's no time like the present to confirm that suspicion, isn't it.]

Having a healthy fear of something isn't always a bad thing, but in this case, there really isn't much to fear at all. I saw some dark substance that seemed separate from your blood, but quickly moved to infect it once significant damage had been done to the body of that monster you were inside...so whatever happened, now that I look back on it, didn't seem like your fault.

[His thumb moves to his chin, while he thinks.]

I doubt anyone blames you for this. That transformation is your own, isn't it? But that dark ooze wasn't. Blood corruption, perhaps?

. . . Possession. [ the word had caught in his throat before croaking right out. ] I tried to get an exorcism, and . . . It was rushed. Badly.

[ blood corruption usually left little of a memory. flashes or perhaps nothing at all. the silence, on the other hand, loved using their hosts as an emergency generator, a battery— watching something against your will was enough to power an entire state's worth of the parasite. it'd only go down once the host did, in that case, which was the sweetest of snacks. ]

I was conscious. It was just my body that wasn't. [ and even though it hadn't been entirely the children's fault, both in their wrong minds— falco still felt the stone cold dig into his gut. ] I'm sorry . . . It went that way. For you, for everyone there.

No, it's quite alright. The very thought of the chance to pit myself up against a strong foe is the very reason I live. It's regrettable that it had to end in your death, but it didn't seem there was another way around it. [He doesn't want to tell him about Bigby...] But, saying you were possessed, that's concerning all on its own.

[He gives Falco a look. Oh no...]

That wasn't because a ghost got a hold of you, was it? I sent such an apparition to Dipper a few months back.

[Now he's concerned. Not knowing what possessed him made him a little worried, that wasn't an outcome he had expected since she hadn't tried to possess himself or Kaeya. Thank the archons he's wrong on this one.]

Hold on, did Dipper...?

[He doesn't know about that yet. Lacking the network he would of had back home has left some blind spots.]

[ at another time, place and circumstance, falco would even smile at the man’s enthusiasm for a good battle, but . . . the last part snatches it away. dipper was dead. well, maybe not anymore, but he was. ]

. . . Dipper.

[ to confirm it, voice small and beginning to bend his knees so that they can stay close to his chest and give himself the chance to hug them and keep half his face hidden behind his arms. his body language screams retreat and remorse. ]

It was something that already came with me. It was my fault.

[On one hand, good news. On the other hand, very bad news. Dipper...]

I had no idea. That can't possibly be your fault.

[He falls silent for a moment to soak that information in, never having heard of that being possible before. It feels as if he shouldn't be surprised, and yet, he is. Truly, there was no limit to the imagination that the universe had to torture them, does it?]

Were you injected with Archon residue? Perhaps known more as the remnants of a god, long since left this world but still leaves a stain upon it, bottled into something more.

[This is secret Fatui information, but he doubts it'll matter to Falco. It almost sounds like a bunch of gibberish even coming out of his own mouth.]

Oh, um . . . No.

[ childe is right— the words mean very little to the boy and don’t quite mesh enough to make sense for him. he knows more or less how it happened in the first place, so . . . glancing down at one of the bars given to him, sticking to his fingers, falco places the words together. ]

It’s something spiritual. In South Sister, the island was the only thing left on that world. The thing— ate everything else. [ “the thing”, “it”, ] It . . . Has a name, but it’s better not to say it. Negative energy makes it strong, but saying its name makes it stronger.

Then we'll avoid that for the time being.

[Otherworldly, something he couldn't understand- that's fine. He'll leave it be at that, having a far better understanding of what exactly happened to Falco now.]

I suppose the only thing there is to do now is work on your recovery. You've caught my eye now- I really want to see what else you're capable of. Perhaps in that, maybe you can avoid those negative energies that helped spurred on what's possessed you. You look like you're around my little brother's age- and if that's of any indication, I think you'll be able to bounce back. Resilience is something I'd associate with him.

That’s something . . . My brother would say. Thank you.

[ older brother, of course, and that falco already was in many ways resilient— his stamina, his training, his heart coupled with ability. it brings a small curve to his lips, soft and melancholy but simultaneously feeling warm to have heard it, coming from childe as well as a memory. he agrees, nonetheless, brings about a nod and retrieves a few words that were earlier spoken. ]

You— you like to spar then, [ it’s hard to not call him mister; childe would see that in the way falco presses his lips together in short pause, ] Childe?

[He can't help but smile warmly back. It's good that Falco has that family, that rock that helps build a cornerstone for one's journey through life. His own older brothers, though they may have picked on him a little, always looked out for him, and he's glad that Falco has the same.]

That's putting it lightly, but yes. [He nods. Fighting is life.]

Why do you ask? Were you looking for someone to spar with? Or a teacher, perhaps?

Oh, no, [ almost shyly, embarrassed that it was mistaken that way. he’s always had to spar, and fight, and that’s— just never what he wanted. to be fair, the farther he was from physical violence or sport, the better. ] but I figured if . . . You want something big to practice with, [ a shrug comes, ] I could try?

[ he wanted to serve others, positively. protect them too, where need be, but he was best fitted for support, for aid, and not the first wave of offense. ]

That's a tempting deal, and I appreciate the offer, [he starts, giving Falco an appreciative smile,] but I'm not sure if I'd feel alright asking you to.

[The prospect is beyond exciting, but he also tries to imagine if Falco were his own little brother and...well. That complicates it a little.]

Only if you wanted to gain new insight and strength, would I feel it appropriate to do battle with you, even just in practice. It would be a shame if you weren't interested, but that decision is yours and yours alone.

[ in other times, falco might not have had the thought of luxury to wait— what if he didn’t have time to wait? what if something happened? they were thoughts that had all plagued him before in south sister, in santa rosita . . . it wasn’t as if trench didn’t come with its own dangers he should be well equipped for. he has a rifle, knives, pistols, an organic weapon, but, also—

the silence’s possession has taught him, newly, that he also needed his mind as balanced as possible. the closer he was to a fight, the closer he was to a slip. but, then again, could he really avoid it? he needed time to sort it out. ]

. . . Can I think about it? About some things.

[ if he could find the right point to deal with it, mentally, with as little strain as possible— it could work. ]

Of course.

[Falco looks conflicted to him, and Childe's curiosity wonders what life is like back where he comes from. If it was a peaceful world or one torn by war, especially with having an ability such as turning into a titan.]

Granted, I don't know everything about your background, but my approach to such things is always to make sure you know what you're fighting for before you start. Once that's nestled in your heart, I think the rest just comes naturally. Rushing it gains you nothing at all.

[ for the brief few moments that falco doesn’t look at childe, but at his feet— he can hear colt. he can hear colt so clearly that when the recognition clicks and he looks up with a snap, his eyes have already begun to sting. ]

I want to go home. And I want my friend to live . . . A really long life with me.

[ he wished colt could see it, too, but at least he saw and heard the sentiment for himself. ]

I didn’t have, ah— this thing, back home, though. I need to find a way to keep violence from feeding it.

[ he needed strong mental balance— which was already hardy in a boy quite young. his fear is of it not being enough. ]

Hey...

[He says softly, not really understanding where that reaction came from, but it's easy to see the hurt in Falco's eyes. Childe blinks a few times, his expression softening, understanding the boy's want to leave. Especially after that.]

Fighting for your friend is just a good a reason as any. Going home is a bit trickier, but rest assured there are some of us here that are trying to get to the bottom of everything.

[He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. He doesn't understand hardly anything about the silence, but there's a darkness that lurks inside of him too. He thinks, trying to find a way to say this without giving too much away.]

Perhaps I can share a little of my own experience with you, if it will help. You've seen my Foul Legacy Transformation now. The legacy I've inherited from that transformation is one where the sounds of clashing blades will ever accompany me. But... [he pauses,] I also have a loving family with many siblings that help me stay grounded. The love for endless battle, and the love for my family and the purpose of protecting them keeps me balanced, so perhaps focusing on that will help you, too.

[ he’s keeping it together for as long as he can manage, but his eyes— they aren’t exactly capable of coming clear on their own and maintain their redness, the same way they keep their shine. the knot in his throat is excruciatingly tight to be hearing, word by word, colt grice, but he can still breathe in.

breathe out so soon, not so much. ]

I-I hope I can help, everyone, [ the breath he held hitches and comes out fast, but he retaliated when he gasps back in, softly, ] that armor you have— is inherited?

[He can tell that Falco's just trying to keep it together. Something is bothering him greatly, and the way his voice comes out in spurts like that while what sounds like trying to restrain tears is telling. And his eyes betray him the most, which stirs something in the Harbinger, as well.

To Childe, Falco is still just a kid- like his own younger brothers.

He rests his hand on the boy's shoulder, keeping his expression warm to try to give Falco some kind of support, as best he can. His eyes soften with concern, darting back and forth between Falco's own eyes.]

Hey, don't worry about my armor. I'm more concerned for you right now. Are you going to be alright?

[ okay, that. that does it. that is the little extra weight needed for falco to take the plunge. it’s not a cascading one, at least— it’s quiet and mild, but still, they are tears. falco inhales with a shake, and once he finds the room to exhale, clearly attempting to keep at least some control over himself, beads roll down the curve of his cheeks. he sniffs better before his words, so he doesn’t need to pause in between them to say, surprisingly soft as he can’t hold the eye contact for too long: ]

You sound just like Colt, [ it’s not in way of speaking. it’s voice. and now that he’s realized what he’s hearing, or how close it is to his memory, oh— oh, it hurts. it stings but embraces him warmly all the same. the boy can’t help a hitch in his breathing, a hiccup between trying to hold it in just to say: ] I’m sorry—

[Colt.

He doesn't know who that is, but it's easy to infer- someone close, perhaps a friend, or what he suspects, a brother. He doesn't say Mister before the name, and isn't breaking down sobbing either. Whatever prompted this, is either because he misses them greatly since coming here, or it's a memory long since accepted that he's brought back to the surface unintentionally.]

No, [he begins, voice light,] come here, buddy, it's okay...

[He moves himself closer to reach out and pull Falco into an embrace, closing his eyes and giving as best of comfort as he can to the crying boy.]

You don't need to apologize, it's okay. Everything's okay. Just let it out.

[ when falco closes his eyes and slides himself into the embrace being offered, he ends up squeezing— tighter, and tighter, because the last time, falco was trying to thrust him away. every word sounded more and more like colt speaking. it wasn’t his smell, though. it wasn’t his embrace. it was childe, but everything else spoken from buddy to it’s alright rang like colt in his ears.

falco’s shoulders shudder on and off; occasionally, his throat hitches a sound, but he’s breathing, in and out. sniffing as whatever tears had to come, came. ]

He died doing this. [ an explanation, but partially a fact, a reality that he reminds himself of. childe sounded ridiculously like colt, but childe was childe— and colt was gone. ] —My brother.

🦅 🦅 🦅

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