[Not uncommon for him - for any of them - but it's so hard to tear himself out of that state. Like a bad dream (that it was, or was not?) it will fade over time and he'll reestablish his link to reality... but he hates this limbo in between. His saving grace is Sylvain, the weight of his body and the softness of his words, both of which anchor Emmet. He slowly works his arm around Sylvain, squeezing him tight, and turns his head to press a kiss to his forehead. It's a motion that is, to him, now just second nature.
His eyelids flutter and he can see it, just barely, on the end of the film reel in his head. He can feel the blood running wildly down his throat, the crush of his lungs and the feeling of falling toward the wet earth and seeing one fuzzy figure so close and yet so far. Is he picturing Sylvie there because he's told he was? Or does he really remember him, just barely?
Emmet hates feeling shaky but this is what his dreams do to him, worse when it's something predictive; he feels cold and hollowed out, kissing Sylvie's brow a few more times as he lets himself return to this world, this present. He can start to remember the things around them, like the pile of his laundry folded on the night stand and feel of his favorite blanket across them. He breathes in deep and then lets it go.]
I'm starting to not be able to tell a past that was from something still yet to come. It all just... overlaps now. Maybe I'm losing control of it, like Fabian.
( his power isn't one that's based in what could be and what is, so while sylvain can sympathize, he can't--empathize. sometimes he runs a little colder than he means to, in fear causes something to freeze up without intending for it to happen. but that doesn't mean he can't offer some comfort here.
when sylvain speaks, his voice is soft, words pressed against the curve of emmet's jawline, ) Em, we're all a little older than we were meant to be.
( they've lived more lifetimes than anyone ever should. suffered more, had to live through it, die from it, then be reborn with it once more. the amount of trauma they've experienced is immeasurable, which is more than enough to cause them to crack. but that's not what he means to get at here; he doesn't want to worry emmet with legitimate concerns. doesn't want to breathe life into his worries, so he settles for something a little less, ) You've got enough memories stored up there that anyone would begin to get a little mixed up. Our lives are not. . linear like they're meant to be. We aren't. Your magic wasn't meant to sustain that.
( gentle still, while he tips his head down to press a kiss against his collarbone, then the center of his chest, )
You're tired. =It'll feel more clear when you've given yourself time to wake up.
If it's not my death I'm reliving, it's yours - watching you go, watching you leave me and be stolen...
[He breathes out a little sharp there, nostrils flaring as he presses yet another kiss to the crown of his lover's head. Sylvain grounds him and it works, he's more and more aware now and yet somehow that feels worse because the weight of reality settles on his shoulders like lead. Nobody's made to sustain what they do, again and again, brought together and torn apart. Not just him and Sylvie, but all of them. How many times is he going to see them picked off, or know that they'll witness the same thing happening to him?
His hand slides up Sylvie's back, feeling the curve and dip of his spine, fingers splaying and a moment of silence falling over him. He's stressed, more than he should be on account of it being true that they are in this moment in no hurry to live or die. They can exist, peacefully, for some time yet. And that's all he wants. The only thing he wants. And he pulls back to look at Sylvie, seeing only the lines of his features in the dark and a glimmer from his eyes but it's enough.]
... I want to be selfish, just once. Just a few times - I want to... just live with you, die with you, but naturally. I don't want to lose you like I've lost you. I know - I know we can't, but what if we did anyway... what if we just...
[Even as he says it, he knows it won't work - he can't be selfish, not after what he did to them all. What he's caused, he needs to throw himself back in the fire to repent for it without ever explaining why but that's why tears spark in his eyes of frustration. Because what if still comes pouring out of his mouth. What if they just live one life uninterrupted? Just one? Just a few?]
( he can feel the stress coming off of emmet. radiating off of him in waves, pouring over the edges and drowning him in it. he can't promise emmet the world, not like he once could have. blood means--nothing in this timeline. his natural-born title no longer holds any worth, even if sylvain has never let that stop him. emmet wraps around him, and sylvain moves to press himself over him. presses stomach-to-stomach, head tipping to kiss the curve of emmet's jawline, before sliding to his ear, then up into his hair. )
I would give you everything you wanted and more, if I could. I would tell the world to kneel at your feet, to listen to your words to obey. ( a breath in, sharp. before he lets it out slow. ) But the one time we stop is going to be the one time Lucien wins. And one win is all he needs, for all of this to be over.
( the world, everyone in it, everything they've worked so hard to save, it would all be over. their cycle would be, too, finished and done, they'd be over, which--god. the relief would be great, being done with it, but they can't give up. they started this vicious cycle, even if it hadn't been intentional. they'll have to be the ones who finish it, too. finish lucien once and for all, get rid of the book, stop all of this from ever happening again. )
Once this is over, we'll go find somewhere close to the old country, mm? A little cottage, far away from everything else. Get a few dogs maybe, and stay out there until we finally pass from old age. No knives, swords, no fire, just old creaky bones.
[Emmet knows he'd never be able to stray the path even if he wanted to, with guilt shackling him to it and too many feelings about the others that he's come to have after lifetime after lifetime of meeting up with them, living with them, loving them and losing them too. He wouldn't be able to turn his back just to stay with Sylvie, for he'd know what kind of betrayal that'd feel like. But even still, he yearns to try - bitterly wanting an escape from a sorrowful, relentless storm of misery.
He holds Sylvain, arms around him to tether him tight - nuzzling up against his face in turn, eyes lowlidded or closed depending on the moment and the weight of it against him. He kisses his throat in turn, feeling the sad burn of hope in his chest for a future he's not sure will ever come. It's the only thing he wants and it's the only thing keeping them going and yet...]
This'll never be over.
[He's quiet, whispering it like they often do in frustration or annoyance. But they always had hope, so it wasn't a statement, really. But to him it is because he's the only one that knows the truth. Maybe he's trying to self sabotage for once and let himself have the excuse to end it all with failure, but he finds himself finally bending. Beginning to break.]
( he's said the same thing, so many times. that it will never be over, that he's tired, that this is a shit idea, that they should just. stop, that the world doesn't deserve them constantly reliving trauma after trauma just to keep some asshole from destroying everything. they've watched generation after generation get to live already from their sacrifices. enough should have been enough, right? how long do they have to continue doing this for? until the end of time? until someone else comes around and destroys everything?
except that's not emmet, usually. usually. sylvain raises a hand, presses it to emmet's cheek. tips his head down to press a kiss to his cheekbone. )
Hey. Don't say shit like that, alright? We haven't fought this long just to give up. We'll finish it. Take him out, destroy the book. Get rid of it for good--and then we'll get the rest of that life to ourselves. To do whatever the hell we want.
( he's not great at hope, but he can bullshit it when needed. sylvain likes to be more practical. eventually it'll be over. eventually they'll be done. whether or not it'll end in their favor, he doesn't know. )
It'll end. And when it does, I'll give you whatever you want.
( might be best to take the time to re-center emmet, to distract him from whatever the hell he's getting stuck inside of. sylvain. takes a breath in, lowers his head, to nip just over emmet's adam's apple. )
[Emmet's carried the weight of his choices on his back through countless lives and he will keep carrying it - and he's not sure what he expects here, in trying to share it with Sylvain. He can't expect him to help carry the burden, and if he were him he would be - so furious. So that's what he expects, righteously so - and it's why he leans against Sylvie's touch and briefly tips up his chin to stretch the skin of his throat taut beneath Sylvie's lips.
He could let it go. Let himself be talked down into false hope, and keep sparing Sylvie the reality of it. Is he really helping, the longer he holds on to this? He loses either way, and he just doesn't know what to do to spare Sylvie from the worst of it. So after a beat, tempting as it might be, he decides he can't just... dwell on it later. He brings up his own hand to Sylvain's throat, fingers splayed and his thumb against his jaw to pull him away from his neck and back up to an even gaze. He stares into his eyes for the longest beat, and his voice is exceptionally thin when he says:]
I've never seen a future where we win. We lose, we'll always lose. There was never any other way, than to keep throwing ourselves... to keep trying. That is all we can do. I've seen it, just... cycle after cycle. It'll never change.
[Maybe he's wrong. Maybe he hasn't seen everything, but...]
It was this, or nothing. For everyone, everywhere.
( emmet's feelings are understandable. it's been centuries; long enough that sylvain has stopped counting each rebirth, has stopped keeping track of the extensive amount of time they've spent trying to finish it; trying to win. you would think with thirteen of them versus one of him, that it wouldn't be this difficult. that they would be able to come out victorious and end the cycle.
except that's clearly not how the world works; they're stuck in a never ending cycle that's trying to destroy them, without a way out. every time they get close, it restarts; they build up resources again, get ready for the fight, and then have to jump back to the beginning. emmet grabs hold of his chin, and sylvain looks into his eyes, watches him closely. lets those words seep through him for a moment, before he's taking a slow breath in and--letting it out. )
Then we'll have an eternity together. ( spoken soft, easy. ) Your abilities aren't all-encompassing, you can't see everything. It might be another several centuries, a few thousand years, a thousand cycles, but this can't last forever. One day, Lucien will win. Or we'll win. Or I'll shove a knife into that fucker's eye socket and keep him alive but useless, so we can have our time just in case killing him doesn't end it.
( good to take precautions just in case. sylvain's never successfully killed him but in case it does something, he wants to make sure he still gets to enjoy some stress-free time with emmet. )
[He says after a beat, head bowed until Sylvie is tilting his chin and making him look at him. He stares into the familiar eyes of his always lover, lifetime after lifetime, and he feels his words are shakier than he would've ever liked them to be. Sylvie isn't pushing him away, isn't reaming him for doing this the way Emmet feels he should be which feels good and bad. He wants the comfort, he wants to be accepted regardless in Sylvain's endless mercy and understanding but... he just doesn't feel he deserves it.
So many years, so many lives - he's carried the guilt of being the reason they're all stuck like this. Hoping tht one day he can believe there'll be an end like the others hope, wishing he could believe so wholeheartedly that it hurts. He leans to put their foreheads together, still half wishing that Sylvie would hate him. Would yell at him. Would tear him to shreds so he can stop feeling like he's getting away with ruining their lives.]
I love you but I shouldn't be the reason you suffer.
( because he knows it isn't. regardless of what abilities emmet has, none of them pertain to their curse, he didn't make the loop, even if he can't see the end to it. sylvain stays right where he is: weight pressed down on top of emmet, hand on his face, eyes staring straight into the other's own. firm, but not harsh. he needs emmet to understand. )
We've had more time together than others could even dream of. It always ends, it doesn't always end quick or painlessly, but we always come back, we usually find each other. I won't say death hasn't taken it's toll on me, but I would rather spend a thousand cycles beside you suffering from an early death than let it end and destroy everything.
[If he had to do any of this without Sylvie, he's not sure he'd have gotten even a fraction of the distance - knowingly or unknowingly. Sylvain's his other half, whether he remembers him or not, he never feels complete without him. He's the motivation Emmet has for getting out of bed in the morning, nevermind saving the world from a certain jackass. Everything is for Sylvie. Always will be. Even if he's still immersed in his own guilt.]
I've pulled you all to hell with me, time and time again, and yet you still love me. I don't deserve it, don't deserve you but... I love you more than anything. Love you so much.
( hearing emmet's feelings isn't anything surprising; they're not new to love, to loving each other, they have gone through this more times than sylvain can keep track of now. he remembers letters sent via post from across borders, remembers little notes attached to carrier pigeons and messenger boys running over others.
but he dislikes the circumstances behind these words; emmet's guilt, the nightmare that must have led him here, to this. sylvain purses his lips, before he's pressing a hand against emmet's shoulder and a kiss to his cheek. )
Up. I am already awake, we may as well use our time for something entertaining.
[Emmet, despite himself, hears the soft touch of humor to his question - because despite it all, Sylvain is here to comfort him. He still stays by his side and lets everything wash off him like rain, holding on only to the most important parts of it all. He looks to him, eyes affectionate, and sits forward into a hunch before he's touching a palm to Sylvie's cheek.]
( it's easy affection with an answer that should be quite clear.
but sylvain quirks up the corners of his lips, offers over a small smile as he leans into that hand on his cheek, before he's shoving against emmet and swinging his legs off the edge of the bed to pull himself up to his feet. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[Not uncommon for him - for any of them - but it's so hard to tear himself out of that state. Like a bad dream (that it was, or was not?) it will fade over time and he'll reestablish his link to reality... but he hates this limbo in between. His saving grace is Sylvain, the weight of his body and the softness of his words, both of which anchor Emmet. He slowly works his arm around Sylvain, squeezing him tight, and turns his head to press a kiss to his forehead. It's a motion that is, to him, now just second nature.
His eyelids flutter and he can see it, just barely, on the end of the film reel in his head. He can feel the blood running wildly down his throat, the crush of his lungs and the feeling of falling toward the wet earth and seeing one fuzzy figure so close and yet so far. Is he picturing Sylvie there because he's told he was? Or does he really remember him, just barely?
Emmet hates feeling shaky but this is what his dreams do to him, worse when it's something predictive; he feels cold and hollowed out, kissing Sylvie's brow a few more times as he lets himself return to this world, this present. He can start to remember the things around them, like the pile of his laundry folded on the night stand and feel of his favorite blanket across them. He breathes in deep and then lets it go.]
I'm starting to not be able to tell a past that was from something still yet to come. It all just... overlaps now. Maybe I'm losing control of it, like Fabian.
no subject
when sylvain speaks, his voice is soft, words pressed against the curve of emmet's jawline, ) Em, we're all a little older than we were meant to be.
( they've lived more lifetimes than anyone ever should. suffered more, had to live through it, die from it, then be reborn with it once more. the amount of trauma they've experienced is immeasurable, which is more than enough to cause them to crack. but that's not what he means to get at here; he doesn't want to worry emmet with legitimate concerns. doesn't want to breathe life into his worries, so he settles for something a little less, ) You've got enough memories stored up there that anyone would begin to get a little mixed up. Our lives are not. . linear like they're meant to be. We aren't. Your magic wasn't meant to sustain that.
( gentle still, while he tips his head down to press a kiss against his collarbone, then the center of his chest, )
You're tired. =It'll feel more clear when you've given yourself time to wake up.
no subject
[He breathes out a little sharp there, nostrils flaring as he presses yet another kiss to the crown of his lover's head. Sylvain grounds him and it works, he's more and more aware now and yet somehow that feels worse because the weight of reality settles on his shoulders like lead. Nobody's made to sustain what they do, again and again, brought together and torn apart. Not just him and Sylvie, but all of them. How many times is he going to see them picked off, or know that they'll witness the same thing happening to him?
His hand slides up Sylvie's back, feeling the curve and dip of his spine, fingers splaying and a moment of silence falling over him. He's stressed, more than he should be on account of it being true that they are in this moment in no hurry to live or die. They can exist, peacefully, for some time yet. And that's all he wants. The only thing he wants. And he pulls back to look at Sylvie, seeing only the lines of his features in the dark and a glimmer from his eyes but it's enough.]
... I want to be selfish, just once. Just a few times - I want to... just live with you, die with you, but naturally. I don't want to lose you like I've lost you. I know - I know we can't, but what if we did anyway... what if we just...
[Even as he says it, he knows it won't work - he can't be selfish, not after what he did to them all. What he's caused, he needs to throw himself back in the fire to repent for it without ever explaining why but that's why tears spark in his eyes of frustration. Because what if still comes pouring out of his mouth. What if they just live one life uninterrupted? Just one? Just a few?]
I just want to be selfish.
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( he can feel the stress coming off of emmet. radiating off of him in waves, pouring over the edges and drowning him in it. he can't promise emmet the world, not like he once could have. blood means--nothing in this timeline. his natural-born title no longer holds any worth, even if sylvain has never let that stop him. emmet wraps around him, and sylvain moves to press himself over him. presses stomach-to-stomach, head tipping to kiss the curve of emmet's jawline, before sliding to his ear, then up into his hair. )
I would give you everything you wanted and more, if I could. I would tell the world to kneel at your feet, to listen to your words to obey. ( a breath in, sharp. before he lets it out slow. ) But the one time we stop is going to be the one time Lucien wins. And one win is all he needs, for all of this to be over.
( the world, everyone in it, everything they've worked so hard to save, it would all be over. their cycle would be, too, finished and done, they'd be over, which--god. the relief would be great, being done with it, but they can't give up. they started this vicious cycle, even if it hadn't been intentional. they'll have to be the ones who finish it, too. finish lucien once and for all, get rid of the book, stop all of this from ever happening again. )
Once this is over, we'll go find somewhere close to the old country, mm? A little cottage, far away from everything else. Get a few dogs maybe, and stay out there until we finally pass from old age. No knives, swords, no fire, just old creaky bones.
no subject
He holds Sylvain, arms around him to tether him tight - nuzzling up against his face in turn, eyes lowlidded or closed depending on the moment and the weight of it against him. He kisses his throat in turn, feeling the sad burn of hope in his chest for a future he's not sure will ever come. It's the only thing he wants and it's the only thing keeping them going and yet...]
This'll never be over.
[He's quiet, whispering it like they often do in frustration or annoyance. But they always had hope, so it wasn't a statement, really. But to him it is because he's the only one that knows the truth. Maybe he's trying to self sabotage for once and let himself have the excuse to end it all with failure, but he finds himself finally bending. Beginning to break.]
It'll never be over, Sylvie. Never.
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except that's not emmet, usually. usually. sylvain raises a hand, presses it to emmet's cheek. tips his head down to press a kiss to his cheekbone. )
Hey. Don't say shit like that, alright? We haven't fought this long just to give up. We'll finish it. Take him out, destroy the book. Get rid of it for good--and then we'll get the rest of that life to ourselves. To do whatever the hell we want.
( he's not great at hope, but he can bullshit it when needed. sylvain likes to be more practical. eventually it'll be over. eventually they'll be done. whether or not it'll end in their favor, he doesn't know. )
It'll end. And when it does, I'll give you whatever you want.
( might be best to take the time to re-center emmet, to distract him from whatever the hell he's getting stuck inside of. sylvain. takes a breath in, lowers his head, to nip just over emmet's adam's apple. )
no subject
[Emmet's carried the weight of his choices on his back through countless lives and he will keep carrying it - and he's not sure what he expects here, in trying to share it with Sylvain. He can't expect him to help carry the burden, and if he were him he would be - so furious. So that's what he expects, righteously so - and it's why he leans against Sylvie's touch and briefly tips up his chin to stretch the skin of his throat taut beneath Sylvie's lips.
He could let it go. Let himself be talked down into false hope, and keep sparing Sylvie the reality of it. Is he really helping, the longer he holds on to this? He loses either way, and he just doesn't know what to do to spare Sylvie from the worst of it. So after a beat, tempting as it might be, he decides he can't just... dwell on it later. He brings up his own hand to Sylvain's throat, fingers splayed and his thumb against his jaw to pull him away from his neck and back up to an even gaze. He stares into his eyes for the longest beat, and his voice is exceptionally thin when he says:]
I've never seen a future where we win. We lose, we'll always lose. There was never any other way, than to keep throwing ourselves... to keep trying. That is all we can do. I've seen it, just... cycle after cycle. It'll never change.
[Maybe he's wrong. Maybe he hasn't seen everything, but...]
It was this, or nothing. For everyone, everywhere.
no subject
except that's clearly not how the world works; they're stuck in a never ending cycle that's trying to destroy them, without a way out. every time they get close, it restarts; they build up resources again, get ready for the fight, and then have to jump back to the beginning. emmet grabs hold of his chin, and sylvain looks into his eyes, watches him closely. lets those words seep through him for a moment, before he's taking a slow breath in and--letting it out. )
Then we'll have an eternity together. ( spoken soft, easy. ) Your abilities aren't all-encompassing, you can't see everything. It might be another several centuries, a few thousand years, a thousand cycles, but this can't last forever. One day, Lucien will win. Or we'll win. Or I'll shove a knife into that fucker's eye socket and keep him alive but useless, so we can have our time just in case killing him doesn't end it.
( good to take precautions just in case. sylvain's never successfully killed him but in case it does something, he wants to make sure he still gets to enjoy some stress-free time with emmet. )
Okay? You don't need to worry.
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[He says after a beat, head bowed until Sylvie is tilting his chin and making him look at him. He stares into the familiar eyes of his always lover, lifetime after lifetime, and he feels his words are shakier than he would've ever liked them to be. Sylvie isn't pushing him away, isn't reaming him for doing this the way Emmet feels he should be which feels good and bad. He wants the comfort, he wants to be accepted regardless in Sylvain's endless mercy and understanding but... he just doesn't feel he deserves it.
So many years, so many lives - he's carried the guilt of being the reason they're all stuck like this. Hoping tht one day he can believe there'll be an end like the others hope, wishing he could believe so wholeheartedly that it hurts. He leans to put their foreheads together, still half wishing that Sylvie would hate him. Would yell at him. Would tear him to shreds so he can stop feeling like he's getting away with ruining their lives.]
I love you but I shouldn't be the reason you suffer.
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( because he knows it isn't. regardless of what abilities emmet has, none of them pertain to their curse, he didn't make the loop, even if he can't see the end to it. sylvain stays right where he is: weight pressed down on top of emmet, hand on his face, eyes staring straight into the other's own. firm, but not harsh. he needs emmet to understand. )
We've had more time together than others could even dream of. It always ends, it doesn't always end quick or painlessly, but we always come back, we usually find each other. I won't say death hasn't taken it's toll on me, but I would rather spend a thousand cycles beside you suffering from an early death than let it end and destroy everything.
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[If he had to do any of this without Sylvie, he's not sure he'd have gotten even a fraction of the distance - knowingly or unknowingly. Sylvain's his other half, whether he remembers him or not, he never feels complete without him. He's the motivation Emmet has for getting out of bed in the morning, nevermind saving the world from a certain jackass. Everything is for Sylvie. Always will be. Even if he's still immersed in his own guilt.]
I've pulled you all to hell with me, time and time again, and yet you still love me. I don't deserve it, don't deserve you but... I love you more than anything. Love you so much.
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but he dislikes the circumstances behind these words; emmet's guilt, the nightmare that must have led him here, to this. sylvain purses his lips, before he's pressing a hand against emmet's shoulder and a kiss to his cheek. )
Up. I am already awake, we may as well use our time for something entertaining.
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[Emmet, despite himself, hears the soft touch of humor to his question - because despite it all, Sylvain is here to comfort him. He still stays by his side and lets everything wash off him like rain, holding on only to the most important parts of it all. He looks to him, eyes affectionate, and sits forward into a hunch before he's touching a palm to Sylvie's cheek.]
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but sylvain quirks up the corners of his lips, offers over a small smile as he leans into that hand on his cheek, before he's shoving against emmet and swinging his legs off the edge of the bed to pull himself up to his feet. )
Chess.