[He tries the knob and curses inwardly. This is stupid Dio's fault. And this room—is that the smell of blood? Frowning, Sieghart sidesteps next to the door in order to mask his location even just a little as he waits for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.]
[As his eyes adjust to the darkness, he'll see that the room appears to be largely empty. There are two chairs in the center of it, or what appear to be. He'll also find that by scanning the walls, an oil lantern rests on the floor near the door.
Presuming he turns it on upon finding it, he'll find that it illuminates a small space. The walls are scrawled with blood, though Sieghart won't be able to pick out any words that may or may not be written into the mess. The longer he stares at them, the more physically unwell he'll begin to feel. The two chairs he had been able to make out the outlines of before become much clearer: they're situated so that they're facing each other, as if poised for a conversation.]
After a period of squinting at the blood and losing interest in parsing the mess—with even less interest in retching over nothing—he regards the chairs in suspicion and weariness. With the door locked and the wall useless, he settles slowly in one of the chairs.]
[As he sits in the chair, he'll be able to hear the sound of someone else approaching from behind the chair across from him, even if no one seems to be there.
But then, from seemingly thin air, a petite woman materializes in the midst of sitting down. She folds her hands together, and they rest gently on her lap. Of course, Sieghart will recognize her long before she actually looks up to meet his eyes.
When she speaks, her voice is familiar, too, but there's a heaviness in it. A weighted sort of melancholy, similar to what he'd heard from her head before.]
[It's almost ironic, seeing that face materialize out of thin air when her distant grandchild fears ghosts so. Wouldn't that be a funny story to tell Elesis? If only he were to bring it up, that is.
Sieghart's expression is uninspired; his tone, flippant as he meets her head-on.]
Because I can't leave until I get this over with. So? What do you want?
[The woman - whose silhouette seems somewhat watery, as if the edges of her are blurred and unstable - seems to quietly consider the words spoken, and quietly consider what she wants to say in return.
Eventually, with no trace of malicious intent in the words:]
I wish to know what it feels like, to carry on when you have left everyone else behind you. Do you ever look back?
[Her face, her voice—without a means to remind himself of them, she slipped through the cracks between his fingers like the sands of time. But some things still dance along the periphery of his frayed memory, and he's stubbornly clung to her name over the centuries.
Sieghart leans back against his seat. Not that any of that matters here.]
Julia's only error was marrying me first. She should've reincarnated as somebody else by now. That's why you don't make a remotely convincing imitation.
[Julia - or the approximation of Julia that may be patched together from the frayed and snapping bits of Sieghart's memories - simply lowers her head as she listens to him speak, as if resigned to accepting what he says regardless of what it is. It's difficult to tell from her face what she's thinking, even when she looks back up.
And soon after she does, she rises to stand and crosses the distance between them. Reaching out, she touches the side of his face in a gesture that might be gentle, though it will hardly feel like anything at all to him. The touch of spider's silk, cold and lifeless.]
...Then let me do this last thing for you.
[Her fingers brush against his temple in a soft and tender gesture before she takes a step back. She looks at Sieghart like something she will miss, but something she has resigned herself to lose once more. To her, it's a familiar ache.]
I wish you well, Sieg, and I will love you always. Our paths will not cross again.
[As her wavering figure begins to dissipate, he'll hear the door click open behind him. The candle of the oil lantern flickers and goes out - and with it, he'll start to feel something else slipping away. Those last vestiges of things that he could remember about her will begin to fade, starting with the little things that he barely holds onto and moving on to bigger and more established things, like their marriage, their first meeting, the fact that he knew her at all. Eventually, only the name "Julia" is left - and that, too, escapes him, leaving him only with the sense that he's lost something precious.]
[Fakes like these serve only to anger him. His hands clench into fists at the figure's audacity to act this way before fading away. Her touch is nothing but poison—an insipid wine with a bitter taste from start to finish. Why should he be interested in what she's thinking?
The heart, however, is treacherous. The mortal love buried deep within his chest reacts to the reminder of days long past, and his stoic mien conceals the grief that washes over him. Such is his curse as a mortal who was given immortality: At the end of the day, it's he who remains behind while everyone else has moved far ahead of him.
Wordlessly, he rises from his seat and makes for the exit. The final grains slip through the cracks, but he leaves the room without missing a step. His are the hands of a monster that destroy what good they touch; something precious has gone, leaving a gaping emptiness in its wake, and all he can think is that he must have done something to deserve the ache before he moves into the hallway.
No matter how much he forgets or how much of himself he loses, he promised that he wouldn't stop, and he intends to keep that promise.]
[At the very least, as he leaves the room, that strange heaviness will abate. Not that it likely makes much of a difference, given the new and unexplained loss he carries with him.
Three doors lie ahead of him, and still no sounds of others approaching can be heard. It's almost eerie, actually - like he's in this building all alone. Should he check any of them for noises on the other side, each time he'll be met with nothing but silence.]
He's used to being alone. Eeriness has virtually no effect on him, but the idea that he has to deal with more nonsense is beyond vexing. After checking the next door, he sighs before making his way inside.]
[It looks like a regular-degular supply closet! :) There are uniforms in many different sizes lined up on wall hooks. If he looks through them, he'll be able to find one in his size that he can swap out for his clownish current uniform.]
[wouldn't that be mean if i was like the uniform is covered in itching powder actually
But no, to the third door he goes, without incident! Stepping inside this door will reveal what looks like a small office space. There's a desk, a small window, and a couple of chairs. There are also some things on the wall: primarily a map which appears to have all of the strongholds for the New Government Forces pinned along with the locations and assumed locations of the Shogunate Forces, and some awards and other various "look at me I'm important" papers.]
[He'd be in true hell with his inability to scratch.
But this looks promising. Sieghart is drawn first to the wall. Based on his memory of the map that Lucretia carries, do the marks from there match with the pinned locations on this particular map? What about Tama? Don't tell him the wanted poster of Vaux Sucksman is here, too. Does anything pop among the "look at me I'm important" papers?
In any case, he moves to the desk once he's stared at the wall enough to see if there's anything of note.]
[Fortunately for him, he isn't locked into the hell of perpetual itches that he simply cannot scratch...
The marks seem to match up with what he remembers, yes! Though there are a few more definitive markers that will help him get a clearer idea of where exactly the enemy strongholds are, too. Tama appears to be solidly within the Shogunate Force's territory. The wanted poster of Vaux Sucksman is not here, tragically, and none of the "I'm important" papers actually seem important. They are self-important - things like medical school certificates and awards of achievement.
The desk holds several things! One drawer holds a classified folder that, when opened, reveals some paperwork and a plethora of photographs of people that Sieghart knows and cares for in their dying moments, wow. Either canon-compliant if they're actually dead, or something horrific but believable if they aren't.
Another classified folder seems full of documents, one of which mentions Lucretia, Nikaido, Aikawa, and himself. Reading over this document reveals that the New Government Forces know that they're Out There and that they're attempting to recover Kondo Isami's body, but details that they don't know their exact plan or movements yet. It's simply a notice to stay on alert. Another reveals that the higher-ups know that Dio is a plant, and it includes orders to take out several members associated with him as soon as possible. This includes both unfamiliar and familiar names, like Elesis.]
[The owner of this office must have a fragile ego.
He flips through the photographs of his brothers—blood and celestial—and what feels like a trite amount of children before setting the folder down. Most of it's fake, while his mind is already imprinted with the images of those that are real. Next.
So the demon kid isn't a traitor, after all? Or perhaps he's a double agent. Sieghart thinks back to the staring corpse in the tent. Is the brat safe right now? There's a beat before Sieghart's nose scrunches at the thought. That's not even the real Dio, just as none of the names here means anything.
He drops the folders back into the drawer before moving cautiously toward the window, lest he be seen.]
[When Sieghart looks out the window, he won't have to worry about anyone spotting him! Strangely, there's nothing on the other side of it, despite the fact that it should theoretically look out onto the road leading toward Tama and away from their current location. It's just a blank, bright white space - like he's looking at some unfinished area in a video game that isn't meant to be seen.
Much like the words in the first room, he'll begin to develop a headache if he stares out of it for too long.]
[There's something like this in every room, huh? Once the headache begins to set in, he tears his gaze away and exits the room. Onward to the fourth and final door along this wall.]
As he opens the door to the next room, he'll find himself... walking back through the door and into the mansion! Hm. Looks like his adventure is finally over...? He's still wearing his stolen uniform, but it isn't the first time someone has come back from an excursion wearing a new outfit.]
[What a way to cut an excursion short. He looks around with a furrowed brow, uncertain of this development. What happened to Tama? Sieghart takes a step farther inside and calls out with no small amount of wariness:]
[Well, the first thing Sieghart will notice is how deathly still and silent everything seems to be. There's no hustle and bustle, no sounds of people chattering, nobody on the lookout for returning CYOA adventurers or rushing around to greet the newcomers. No one rushes to greet him, to check over his injuries or call Virgo over.
There is, however, a small sound from the dining room as Sieghart calls out. A wet-sounding cough, and a small, strained:]
[The combination of everything has Sieghart on high alert as he turns toward the dining room. His lips curl into their default smile, though the mirth doesn't reach his eyes. Of course he wouldn't be that lucky. Nothing to it, but to do it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
no subject
Presuming he turns it on upon finding it, he'll find that it illuminates a small space. The walls are scrawled with blood, though Sieghart won't be able to pick out any words that may or may not be written into the mess. The longer he stares at them, the more physically unwell he'll begin to feel. The two chairs he had been able to make out the outlines of before become much clearer: they're situated so that they're facing each other, as if poised for a conversation.]
no subject
After a period of squinting at the blood and losing interest in parsing the mess—with even less interest in retching over nothing—he regards the chairs in suspicion and weariness. With the door locked and the wall useless, he settles slowly in one of the chairs.]
no subject
But then, from seemingly thin air, a petite woman materializes in the midst of sitting down. She folds her hands together, and they rest gently on her lap. Of course, Sieghart will recognize her long before she actually looks up to meet his eyes.
When she speaks, her voice is familiar, too, but there's a heaviness in it. A weighted sort of melancholy, similar to what he'd heard from her head before.]
Why are you here?
no subject
Sieghart's expression is uninspired; his tone, flippant as he meets her head-on.]
Because I can't leave until I get this over with. So? What do you want?
no subject
Eventually, with no trace of malicious intent in the words:]
I wish to know what it feels like, to carry on when you have left everyone else behind you. Do you ever look back?
no subject
I can only look as far back as I can remember.
no subject
I see. And how far back can you remember, Sieg?
no subject
[Her face, her voice—without a means to remind himself of them, she slipped through the cracks between his fingers like the sands of time. But some things still dance along the periphery of his frayed memory, and he's stubbornly clung to her name over the centuries.
Sieghart leans back against his seat. Not that any of that matters here.]
Julia's only error was marrying me first. She should've reincarnated as somebody else by now. That's why you don't make a remotely convincing imitation.
no subject
And soon after she does, she rises to stand and crosses the distance between them. Reaching out, she touches the side of his face in a gesture that might be gentle, though it will hardly feel like anything at all to him. The touch of spider's silk, cold and lifeless.]
...Then let me do this last thing for you.
[Her fingers brush against his temple in a soft and tender gesture before she takes a step back. She looks at Sieghart like something she will miss, but something she has resigned herself to lose once more. To her, it's a familiar ache.]
I wish you well, Sieg, and I will love you always. Our paths will not cross again.
[As her wavering figure begins to dissipate, he'll hear the door click open behind him. The candle of the oil lantern flickers and goes out - and with it, he'll start to feel something else slipping away. Those last vestiges of things that he could remember about her will begin to fade, starting with the little things that he barely holds onto and moving on to bigger and more established things, like their marriage, their first meeting, the fact that he knew her at all. Eventually, only the name "Julia" is left - and that, too, escapes him, leaving him only with the sense that he's lost something precious.]
no subject
The heart, however, is treacherous. The mortal love buried deep within his chest reacts to the reminder of days long past, and his stoic mien conceals the grief that washes over him. Such is his curse as a mortal who was given immortality: At the end of the day, it's he who remains behind while everyone else has moved far ahead of him.
Wordlessly, he rises from his seat and makes for the exit. The final grains slip through the cracks, but he leaves the room without missing a step. His are the hands of a monster that destroy what good they touch; something precious has gone, leaving a gaping emptiness in its wake, and all he can think is that he must have done something to deserve the ache before he moves into the hallway.
No matter how much he forgets or how much of himself he loses, he promised that he wouldn't stop, and he intends to keep that promise.]
no subject
Three doors lie ahead of him, and still no sounds of others approaching can be heard. It's almost eerie, actually - like he's in this building all alone. Should he check any of them for noises on the other side, each time he'll be met with nothing but silence.]
no subject
He's used to being alone. Eeriness has virtually no effect on him, but the idea that he has to deal with more nonsense is beyond vexing. After checking the next door, he sighs before making his way inside.]
no subject
no subject
no subject
But no, to the third door he goes, without incident! Stepping inside this door will reveal what looks like a small office space. There's a desk, a small window, and a couple of chairs. There are also some things on the wall: primarily a map which appears to have all of the strongholds for the New Government Forces pinned along with the locations and assumed locations of the Shogunate Forces, and some awards and other various "look at me I'm important" papers.]
no subject
But this looks promising. Sieghart is drawn first to the wall. Based on his memory of the map that Lucretia carries, do the marks from there match with the pinned locations on this particular map? What about Tama? Don't tell him the wanted poster of Vaux Sucksman is here, too. Does anything pop among the "look at me I'm important" papers?
In any case, he moves to the desk once he's stared at the wall enough to see if there's anything of note.]
no subject
The marks seem to match up with what he remembers, yes! Though there are a few more definitive markers that will help him get a clearer idea of where exactly the enemy strongholds are, too. Tama appears to be solidly within the Shogunate Force's territory. The wanted poster of Vaux Sucksman is not here, tragically, and none of the "I'm important" papers actually seem important. They are self-important - things like medical school certificates and awards of achievement.
The desk holds several things! One drawer holds a classified folder that, when opened, reveals some paperwork and a plethora of photographs of people that Sieghart knows and cares for in their dying moments, wow. Either canon-compliant if they're actually dead, or something horrific but believable if they aren't.
Another classified folder seems full of documents, one of which mentions Lucretia, Nikaido, Aikawa, and himself. Reading over this document reveals that the New Government Forces know that they're Out There and that they're attempting to recover Kondo Isami's body, but details that they don't know their exact plan or movements yet. It's simply a notice to stay on alert. Another reveals that the higher-ups know that Dio is a plant, and it includes orders to take out several members associated with him as soon as possible. This includes both unfamiliar and familiar names, like Elesis.]
no subject
He flips through the photographs of his brothers—blood and celestial—and what feels like a trite amount of children before setting the folder down. Most of it's fake, while his mind is already imprinted with the images of those that are real. Next.
So the demon kid isn't a traitor, after all? Or perhaps he's a double agent. Sieghart thinks back to the staring corpse in the tent. Is the brat safe right now? There's a beat before Sieghart's nose scrunches at the thought. That's not even the real Dio, just as none of the names here means anything.
He drops the folders back into the drawer before moving cautiously toward the window, lest he be seen.]
no subject
Much like the words in the first room, he'll begin to develop a headache if he stares out of it for too long.]
no subject
no subject
As he opens the door to the next room, he'll find himself... walking back through the door and into the mansion! Hm. Looks like his adventure is finally over...? He's still wearing his stolen uniform, but it isn't the first time someone has come back from an excursion wearing a new outfit.]
no subject
Souji, are you here?
no subject
There is, however, a small sound from the dining room as Sieghart calls out. A wet-sounding cough, and a small, strained:]
--Si-san...?
no subject
To the dining room, he goes.]
That's me.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)