[viola will be at the SUB then! she's on her phone until mandricardo arrives, but there are two wine glasses and a really fucking expensive bottle of wine just assume it's the really good shit because it's viola]
...Well, I had to confront her. Byleth. She's my Master. Servants like myself always have one, and in the first week of this damn place, she said she would be mine.
[...]
I could have never imagined she would have killed someone here. Even with her past, she was...kind.
...I would have moved the earth for her. That woman was...someone I opened myself up to. I cried with her, the night before that duel. And then she fell in love with the man who killed me.
it's been a long day, you see. it's been a very long day and a very long trial and viola was insistent about not being another liability, that she wouldn't be another person to worry over.
but to watch that happen right in front of her eyes -
she tears up before she can stop it, eyes welling up]
[he's allow - she won't pull away this time but her hands are immediately coming up to her face to try to catch the tears before they fall. she hates this. it's been such a difficult day and having to watch someone else's death memory, and feel their anguish...]
[oh a hug... she's tense for a long moment, as though she's trying to decide even how much she should allow it but. ultimately she presses her face into his shoulder and sniffs. the tears are few, as if she's still trying to hold herself together, but the emotion is still clear in her voice]
Of course I do... Stop treating it as though it's in question - there's no 'if' about it.
You love your brother - he is flesh and blood, he is next in line to the dukedom, and he is changing for the better. You tell yourself that over the past few years, he’s grown up well, and has even taken moments to express care and concern for you. You tell him that he’s allowed to make mistakes, just as any good elder sister would, and that enjoying his youth is also one of his duties.
You’re startled when he brings up the fact that he contributed to the most scarring day in your life.
It’s one that you remember clearly - the day that your fiance, who you had loved since you were but a little girl, publicly cast you aside in front of a crowd he’d personally gathered. Your crimes? Harassing the girl that was now at his side, his new love, who he clearly adored far more than you. And at their side? None other than your brother, sneering when you call yourself weak, helping to smear your name and your reputation.
Two who you love so dearly, more than than this world can even begin to recognize, casting you aside.
You feel your heart breaking again, the injury so raw that it never healed over.
You want to move past the conversation, you don’t want to talk about it, you think it’d be easier to continue this amiable sibling relationship where you don’t acknowledge the incident. You think that it’s easier, if you assume blame and consequence for your own jealous fit after your fiance, was stolen from you. You think that if you call it youth, it will be dismissed.
You don’t know what to do when you receive an apology for something that haunts you even now.
You don’t believe in love. You don’t believe in loyalty. Not to you, pathetic Lady Iris. You don’t trust anyone, for if even your own flesh and blood can decide that infatuation matters more than your dignity or well-being, how can anyone make promises that mean anything at all?
. . .
You watch him leave the room after his apology is accepted, even if it is not forgiven, and you cannot help the knot of guilt that sits in your stomach.
If you were better, could you have given a kinder answer? If you were like her - like the very person that everyone left you for - could you give and receive love?
And why bother thinking of those things, when you will never be anyone but this scarred, jealous you? ]
[Betrayal. She had brought that up once, and shut that topic down just as quickly. After seeing this, anyone would see why.]
[When people make an example of you, put you down to push themselves up, discard you, how would you feel anything else but torn apart, to your core?]
[He raises a hand to place at the back of her head where she's turned into her shoulder. He's not the kindest, or the most reassuring, or some glistening saint of good - but in this moment, he wants to try to be the best he can.]
[His voice is low as he speaks, his voice wavering with emotion.]
Viola....Viola. I'm so sorry that...people have been so cruel. You...didn't deserve that.
[she's so tense. the memory is one that still steals breath out of her lungs, even if it doesn't all make sense to her - not exactly. she never had this conversation with her brother, she never got this apology. but Iris did? Iris got to make amends, even however slightly?
but everything else is...
what mandricardo says is...
. . . ]
It's... It's not mine... Not exactly but...
I- I should take responsibility for my actions, and so...
[even if her voice sounds a little like it's trembling]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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be there shortly
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[viola will be at the SUB then! she's on her phone until mandricardo arrives, but there are two wine glasses and a really fucking expensive bottle of wine just assume it's the really good shit because it's viola]
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[He sits next to her, practically slumping in his seat. Silent for a moment, he then turns to her.]
...Thanks. For this.
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... well, it sounds a little like I need to help take care of you after today, too.
Can you tell me what happened? It sounds like things got even... busier...
[after results,,]
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[Let him suffer, like he always has.]
[He does take the wine glass gratefully, though.]
...Well, I had to confront her. Byleth. She's my Master. Servants like myself always have one, and in the first week of this damn place, she said she would be mine.
[...]
I could have never imagined she would have killed someone here. Even with her past, she was...kind.
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... do you feel betrayed?
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[He nods.]
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... but you still care for her.
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[Does he? It feels like a haze.]
It feels like something's dropped to the pit of my stomach. It's like...it's like that time.
[He swallows.]
It feels like Doralice.
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[memshare pending give her lore first]
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[Hold on, memshare (open to mod journal) incoming. Mandricardo blinks, before taking a long sip of his wine.]
[...Yeah.]
...I would have moved the earth for her. That woman was...someone I opened myself up to. I cried with her, the night before that duel. And then she fell in love with the man who killed me.
[Haha! What is his life.]
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oh.
it's been a long day, you see. it's been a very long day and a very long trial and viola was insistent about not being another liability, that she wouldn't be another person to worry over.
but to watch that happen right in front of her eyes -
she tears up before she can stop it, eyes welling up]
M-Mandricardo, that's not...
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[Now he's looking over at her with extreme concern, reaching out to touch her gently on the shoulders.]
H-Hey, you shouldn't...I mean, that was a thing of the past. You don't need to cry, please...
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Of course I'm going to cry.
I care about you - how can I not cry?
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I-If you care for me, then I can't stop you. I won't. And I'm...glad you do care about me.
[If she wants to cry...he knows how necessary that is.]
[1/2]
Of course I do... Stop treating it as though it's in question - there's no 'if' about it.
You are so foolish at times, Mandricardo.
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“There are some things you can only experience as a student.”
You love your brother - he is flesh and blood, he is next in line to the dukedom, and he is changing for the better. You tell yourself that over the past few years, he’s grown up well, and has even taken moments to express care and concern for you. You tell him that he’s allowed to make mistakes, just as any good elder sister would, and that enjoying his youth is also one of his duties.
You’re startled when he brings up the fact that he contributed to the most scarring day in your life.
It’s one that you remember clearly - the day that your fiance, who you had loved since you were but a little girl, publicly cast you aside in front of a crowd he’d personally gathered. Your crimes? Harassing the girl that was now at his side, his new love, who he clearly adored far more than you. And at their side? None other than your brother, sneering when you call yourself weak, helping to smear your name and your reputation.
Two who you love so dearly, more than than this world can even begin to recognize, casting you aside.
You feel your heart breaking again, the injury so raw that it never healed over.
You want to move past the conversation, you don’t want to talk about it, you think it’d be easier to continue this amiable sibling relationship where you don’t acknowledge the incident. You think that it’s easier, if you assume blame and consequence for your own jealous fit after your fiance, was stolen from you. You think that if you call it youth, it will be dismissed.
You don’t know what to do when you receive an apology for something that haunts you even now.
You don’t believe in love. You don’t believe in loyalty. Not to you, pathetic Lady Iris. You don’t trust anyone, for if even your own flesh and blood can decide that infatuation matters more than your dignity or well-being, how can anyone make promises that mean anything at all?
. . .
You watch him leave the room after his apology is accepted, even if it is not forgiven, and you cannot help the knot of guilt that sits in your stomach.
If you were better, could you have given a kinder answer? If you were like her - like the very person that everyone left you for - could you give and receive love?
And why bother thinking of those things, when you will never be anyone but this scarred, jealous you? ]
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[Betrayal. She had brought that up once, and shut that topic down just as quickly. After seeing this, anyone would see why.]
[When people make an example of you, put you down to push themselves up, discard you, how would you feel anything else but torn apart, to your core?]
[He raises a hand to place at the back of her head where she's turned into her shoulder. He's not the kindest, or the most reassuring, or some glistening saint of good - but in this moment, he wants to try to be the best he can.]
[His voice is low as he speaks, his voice wavering with emotion.]
Viola....Viola. I'm so sorry that...people have been so cruel. You...didn't deserve that.
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but everything else is...
what mandricardo says is...
. . . ]
It's... It's not mine... Not exactly but...
I- I should take responsibility for my actions, and so...
[even if her voice sounds a little like it's trembling]