AN: So I've taken to writing on my iPhone now. Yes, seriously, in the notes feature, I'm writing fanfiction. Addiction? Possibly. At any rate this is a story I started recently. 'In Case of Rapture' is an AU Suikoden fic which will star Tir McDohl and eventually Ted but is set during the Suikoden 3 timeline. Point of view switching will happen extremely often and other characters will develop as I go. (For instance Chapter 2 – which I've already started – begins with Percival.) As this is AU and will deviate from the games some characters may be slightly different – especially those from Suikoden 1, 2, 4, and 5. Yes; I've played all the games, so any character could appear if they are still around time-line wise. Has been awhile though. So forgive me for a little OOC'ness. So yeah. This forenote went on longer than I expected it to. On to the story! Note that future chapters will all begin with flashbacks of McDohl and Ted. Yeah, just not this one.
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CHAPTER 1 : Submission in Silhouette
'Ted.'
This was the anthem of his thoughts. It repeated over and over and each time grew more insistent. The few that he had met, those closer to the surface, perked up at the call. Their interest was soon lost. Those whom had once shared that title sometimes held on to the phantom of identity their once-name brought up but it never lasted. These were those who had become mere ghosts of their former selves. They clung to the surface but with only wisps of history they had little hold. Once they fell away there was only emptiness in response to his query.
These were not the Ted he sought and the fragile beings were aware of it. The Ted he knew was not among them. He had never been among them.
One day perhaps he would be but Tir feared that day.
"Young Master."
The voice roused him from meditation. Another missed knock. Another state delved too deep. Gremio already knew this though. The once-servant poised at the door with a hand raised to knock and a tray of food in his opposing hand. Rice again, it was all they had these days since settling for a time in Highland. Not by choice exactly. Constant travel was becoming hard on the still-eager servant. Nearly twenty years of adventure was starting to show by the silver in his scalp and the cane he sometimes used. Deny it as Gremio might; Tir had known it was time to slow down.
Not that you would think this servant knew the meaning of 'slow down'.
"You went too deep again." It was not a question. It was an acknowledgement laced with previously given warnings. Tir could feel Gremio's disappointed stare though the man did not look at him. Not even as he sat the bowl of rice on the bedside stand near the forever-young 'boy'. Not even as he sat himself on the make-shift bed of cotton and ratty sheets. Tir could feel these things as despite his age, now in all rights a man, he would forever concern himself with that gaze. Staples of youth are not easily forgotten.
"This time was different...closer-"
"No Master," Gremio sighed and turned to look at the 'boy'. ", it wasn't. You delve into that abyss again and found nothing. Just like last time, the time before, every time. Perhaps..." He held his tongue. This was an argument of times passed - a touchy subject he dared not tread lest his Master retreat once more. He often did that these days. These were troubled waters but through years of service Gremio had the map. "I merely worry. It is dangerous. The Lady of the Tower informed us of such when you asked her to teach you. If you were to delve too deep into the Soul Eater..."
"It will not devour me - I am the fated bearer." Conviction. Tir met his longest friend's gaze with cold eyes. Perhaps once they would have burned with intensity but those days had also long since passed. Steely dedication had stolen the youth.
Gremio often missed it.
"We can not be sure of that. Not even Lady Leknaat was."
Tir shook his head but knew the truth of those words. Leknaat, Seer of the Stars, had warned him. She had even refused to teach him at first. True Runes were a power beyond the kin of man and not to be toyed with. This truth held especially clear for the Soul Eater; the Rune which governed death. A misstep, a single dive too deep, and it would be over.
Yet, "I just know, Gremio." And truly, he believed he did.
The servant sighed as he resigned from an argument had too many times before. His frustrations remained carefully reigned in. Though he felt it his control would not slip. Not once. Not now. Never. Not with his Master. To be supportive of his mental state had become a great one of many duties since the war.
"Very well. I urge you though; caution."
Tir gave him no response save a nod. Not that the mothering blonde expected one as he rose and moved to the door. He did not look back as it closed. There was no need. He knew Tir had already gone back to meditations of the cursed rune on his palm. Though the body may appear alert the eyes would be empty and the mind departed. One day he feared this empty vessel would be all he had to wake up to.
Gremio still said his routine, "Good night young master." as he closed the door, heard or not.
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Since the fall of L'Renouille and the death of King Jowy, Highland had become little more than city-states itself. A once great empire turned to a rabble of counts fighting over whose claim to the throne held strongest. Rumor had it they would decide a King soon but such rumors were tired and aged. They had run their course alongside those that claimed King Jowy still lived. With such infighting the cities became a nation unto themselves and now thrived on their own isolation.
Even though he understood Tir would never adapt to their watching eyes.
The city in which he decided they would settle was chosen specifically. It was nether too big nor too small, had no standing army, and was high enough in the mountains to avoid passerbys who may recognize him. Once the city of Silhouette had been nothing but a tiny point on the map. Now it was, at least for Gremio, home. The aging servant had taken well to the quiet charm of it, the villagers even accepted him. They would not accept Tir. Too different, too closed off, too young in looks to act as he did. Truly they would never like him. It was okay; he would never feel at home in this place either. How could he? How could you call a place home when everyone in it would slowly die before your very eyes? When the city itself would crumble to dust before you?
Tir never went outside if he could help it. Not that anyone could tell the man stayed inside; he had the sun kissed tan that held on for twenty years without change. He was as he had been the day Ted passed his curse to the McDohl scion. As he would always be unless he passed it on as well.
Something he could hardly even imagine.
As he approached a stand the woman working it glanced up, saw him, and tried to hide her falling smile. "Seyfarth." Simple, not a trace of that venomous suspicion because this woman hid it deep. Considering she knew only the fake name he gave her, the McDohl title being too well known to use, perhaps her distrust was justified. Tir, as he often did, simply nodded a greeting and said nothing. It was enough for her. While he stood there, still as stone, she worked to gather the usual items. If she wanted to ask why it was him and not Gremio picking up the weekly supply, she refrained. Tir offered nothing in return.
No one really wanted to discuss the popular servant's declining health. Sickness was akin to a curse in mountain villages such as Silhouette. The town doctor would have been considered little more than a hopeless crock by the skilled surgeons in bigger cities. These were a people who kept it out of thought and mind. For Tir the matter was even more grave. He would not speak of it because he could not bare to having already lost the servant once. At only forty and some odd years old, Gremio should have still been in fine health. Tir had concerns as to the actual success of Leknaat's partial Gate Rune in restoring his friend's health.
Not that he could ever voice those to Gremio. The servant was always 'fine'.
"This should do you two for the week well enough."
The size of the sack said otherwise; it could last a month if Gremio did not insist on a lifestyle befitting his 'lord's station". Lord McDohl was no more but it seemed only Tir had truly managed to let him rest.
The deceptively young man merely nodded to her again - sometimes he wished they assumed him mute - and shouldered the sack. The material was rough and were it not for his gloves may well have eaten into his palms. He never went without his gloves though - never. Gremio and he were mere travelers; an illusion which the fiendish looking claw rune on his right hand would call into question. Few outside the upper echelon of the Toran republic would recognize it for what it was but the risk was still there.
Years of secrets had taught Tir to never take risks.
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Gremio was not outside or at the door. He was not in the tiny kitchen where Tir left the bag. It was disconcerting and the only surviving McDohl had his glove off on instinct. It had been years since he carried a staff. Over a decade since he carried any other rune. Soul Eater did not mesh well with other runes and was enough.
He steeled himself and slipped into the next room silently.
The glove was on as quick as he had taken it off. Two pairs of eyes, one startled blue above a scar and the other judging green. Gremio made a show of rising from the table and pointed at their guest, announcing him. With his cane. Their brown haired guest looked confused at the tool before meeting Tir's eyes with understanding. One only those like them could share. A knowledge of how things age and yet others stay the same.
"McDohl."
Tir sank into the seat Gremio had vacated with a sigh.
"Just Tir. Lord McDohl died years ago Luc."
Luc shrugged and Tir was hardly surprised. The apprentice of Leknaat never cared about titles, about matters of men and politics. If he did he hid it well all those years ago during the war. Even when training under the same master the other had barely spoken to Tir save out of necessity. Occasionally not even then if a letter would suffice.
"You haven't changed I see."
Luc rolled his eyes.
"Don't be daft. Our kind do not 'change'."
Clearly not. Luc had lost none of his smug disdain. Only the superficial had undergone any transformation. A mere change of attire from his customary robes to a long coat. Clothes. Nothing more. His eyes were still sharp as ever when the bearer of Wind looked pointedly at Gremio then the door. Tir's servant took the clue and left though they all knew he would not be far.
Luc watched the door till it closed before looking to Tir.
"I may require your assistance."
He must have pulled a face for Luc's contempt softened, a momentary slip, as the other broke their eye contact to peer instead at a wall.
"I mean...I need your help."
Tir knew he looked shocked. How could he not? Luc, the king of haughty glances and disdain, asking for a favor? Such a thing was unheard of. It put Tir immediately on guard.
"What could you possibly need me for Luc? Between your power and the Sser...it doesn't involve Toran does it?"
"No, Toran is uninvolved. As for Leknaat. . . she and I have parted ways."
Parted ways?
The sorceress and her apprentice were no longer one and the same?
Tir stewed over this news while staring at the other. Luc, for his credit, retained a strong face though he would not meet his once-Lord's eyes. Not once in all his time at the tower had Tir heard the two argue. Luc complaining, yes, yet never had they truly argued. Leknaat's seemingly endless wisdom made such an act difficult. Truly arguing with one who radiated patience and grace was near impossible. McDohl remembered all too well her aura.
"What caused you to leave her?"
It was obviously that way. Leknaat would never cast away an apprentice of her own violation.
"She disagrees with what must be done."
"Leknaat? Really? She always seemed to know-"
Luc sharply shook his head.
"She doesn't. The Seeress only listens to her damnable prophecies handed down from the Shield. She is as much a tool as the rest of us. A masterful one, but a tool none the less to the True Runes will."
The True Runes. . . Will? The idea was not unfamiliar to the once-rebel but he had never paid it much mind. Leknaat spoke little of it too him. Said the knowledge was not appropriate for the bearer of Soul Eater, something he never truly understood either.
As if sensing his confusion behind the unreadable stare, Luc continued.
"You must feel it you know. A purpose. A mission. These things," he waved his right hand in a gesture few could empathize, "are not merely tools. People merely choose to think of them as such. Not even just True, all runes have a purpose. A hand in fate-"
"And what do you expect me to do?"
The question startled Luc into stopping. Tir repeated it, louder this time, before leaning back in his chair.
"You tell me all of this Luc but why should I care? Don't get me wrong, it is fascinating, but I am just a traveler now. This time next year I could be a farmer, in five a merchant, I am no one of conseque-"
Luc slammed a fist on the edge of his seat on frustration. A show of anger. The first flash of something fitting the even older immortal's youthful body. Such an act, not so long ago, would have made Tir smile. He rarely did so anymore.
"You're wrong McDohl."
Was he. . . Angry?
"You're wrong, fool." the repeat came with more venomous intensity. A strength behind it that Tir was unaccustomed to from the normally apathetic brunette. Instinctually left hand slid over to rest upon the back of his right, on the glove beneath which Soul Eater lay. His weapon, his tool, and as Luc now claimed, a maker of destiny. It should have been hard to imagine but it wasn't. After such a very long time with the cursed rune he was inclined to believe.
The slight movement was enough to cowl the wind sorcerer. Intentional show of intimidation or not, Luc would not risk it. The discrepancy in strength of their 'blessings' was not so much a river as a chasm. His years of training would help bridge the gap but it remained. Wind simply could not stop Death, that which the McDohl chained to his right hand. It was infuriating but a fact just meeting with the hermit True Rune bearer was a risk. The petite brunette settled back into his chair, boot heels scraping the ground, and calmed before continuing.
"I could free the world of its chains with your help McDohl."
"...Why do you need me?"
The two made eye contact, Luc weighing his words and Tir appearing interested yet utterly unconvinced.
And out in the hall, ear pressed to the door, Gremio struggled to hear the words that came from Luc's mouth next.
"...I need your power to kill that which can not be killed."
One of Silhouette's cold drafts seemed to descend on the house a if the world itself rejected Luc's words. The temperature seemed to fall in the house as Gremio listened.
"I need your Soul Eater to kill my Wind."
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They talked for three hours. Well, Luc anyway. Tir simply sat in his chair and listened, occasionally asking questions at the start then less and less as time went on. Near the end he was completely silent. It was the most he had ever heard the other speak. Far more than he had ever heard without a single insult in it. Luc was nether smug nor condescending, his voice that of one simply stating facts of the future as if they had already happened. He spoke of a history he would make.
And to the snarky wind user's credit he was completely honest.
Luc spoke of his plans in detail. Of Harmonia, a place Tir had heard of but never seen. He went into great details as to his plans to use the country. To use Zexen and the Grasslands ongoing conflicts to his advantage. Tir was informed of the the other True Elemental and those that lay dormant in the lands of the North. Of whom their bearer had been. The legend of the Flame Champion was in particular fascinating and Tir listened closely at that. Twice Gremio shuffled in with his cane and brought them tea, then dinner, and Tir took of it while Luc touched neither. Not particularly surprising to either member of the household as the wind sorcerer rarely seemed to eat. Luc would only stop talking while Gremio was in the room then would start again once the servant left. His plan was long, involved, and as Tir listened, more and more sound. The McDohl scion had never been trained as a strategist but he could find no error in it from his limited experience. The plan his fellow Bearer had crafted was an intricate web yet entirely possible. Or perhaps it was better to think the Silverburg he employed. Tir knew only too well how valuable that ones skills would be to Luc.
And when he finished, falling silent, Tir was filled with revulsion.
"Disgusting."
His voice nearly shook with the rage.
A war. For hours Luc had regaled him with plans for war, death, and betrayal with seemingly no care. It could have been a talk of weather. This, above all else, disgusted him so that when Luc opened his mouth to speak again, Tir ripped the glove from his hand and pointed at the other.
Soul Eater shown greedily in the declining window light.
Luc's mouth closed as if a spell had been cast upon him. The deceptively youthful man took on complete stillness, not a finger twitching. Only his eyes refused to be turned to stone as they went from Soul Eater to Tir's face, then the exits. There was no escape. He could only wait.
And by the way Tir's eyes burned and the set of his jaw the wait may not be long.
"I thought better of you."
It was spoken like a curse.
"I thought you were...I don't even know anymore. Sane perhaps? To think one like you fought at my side so often. It is unsettling."
Luc looked affronted, he wished to snap an insult, that McDohl himself was hardly a pacifist, but held it in.
Tir continued, "Your plan is vile Luc. War. You want to start a War. Have you forgotten the Gate Rune Wars Luc? The war between Jowston and Highland? I know you were involved in that on Leknaat's behalf as well. Were you like this then too? Did you care so little for the lives of others?"
Soul Eater glimmered, fueled by its wielders rage, gleeful.
And yet Tir lowered it and sank back into his chair with a deep sigh. Though he was no longer in danger Luc held still and did nothing to further anger his once-Lord and fellow apprentice.
"I thought you would understand."
Luc spoke quietly with a calm in his voice, deceptive.
Tir would have none of it as he cast his gaze sharply away.
"How could I understand Luc? You call for death and destruction with some idea to save the world. You ask me to War. Again. Knowing how I feel cf it. Over True Runes at that. How did you think I would ever be able to accept this repeat of history?"
And if it had not been a danger to his health Luc may have smiled. It was the moment to lay down his hand in true, to play his ultimate card. His fingers steepled together as Luc regained his countenance.
"I need your help, not your acceptance. I can help you get what you want just as you can help me Tir."
It did not go quite as planned. Rather than perk in interest Tir just sighed and rose. He would not look at the other but did not turn his back. Once Luc had been a friend of sorts; now Tir could scarcely view him as more than a demon the likes of Yuber, a foul being the wind user now associated with. Further revulsion strained Tir's voice as he gestured to the door loosely.
"Get out Luc. Just leave. If you stay I'd be forced to kill you before my conscious eats me alive."
Luc did not move. Instead he said the most important phrase he yet. His voice leaked the acidic supremacy that could never be all the way hidden.
"You haven't found him yet have you McDohl? That boy, what was his name, Ted?"
Luc was a sorcerer, not a warrior, and so he had no guard against the hand that caught his scrawny neck and sent the chair tumbling over with them both. McDohl had always been fast and time seemed to only make it more pronounced. He did not need a rune to kill, the hands crushing down on Luc's throat. It was not enough force to be deadly but the sorcerer had no way of knowing that. He struggled, slapping at the heavier 'teen' on top of him with all the force he could muster. Panic kept him from using his rune as his focus fell to pieces under the knee pressing into his stomach. Tir's voice and the clear murderous intent in it rang true still.
"Don't ever mention him, you devil. You defile his memo..."
Tir stopped, both speaking and onslaught, as he caught himself. Memory! No, not a memory, lost, not gone or dead, simply lost...
It gave the other a chance to wiggle his throat free.
"I-I can get him b-back for you!"
"No, you can't! Leknaat said she could not preform that miracle again!"
His grip still loosened. More sitting on Luc now than actively attempting to murder him, Tir looked lost. Sometimes it was hard to tell what world the McDohl actually existed in. This was one of those times. His eyes may have looked towards his near victim but they appeared far away. The focus for which he had once been known seemed so distant that, in this instance and for the first ever, Luc actually feared for his life. No, not just his life, he feared for his very soul should he be violently killed in such close proximity to the Soul Eater. Though the rune may not have been active he could feel it pressing into his neck. Hunger. Despair. Solitude. If those feelings could be made manifest physically then in this moment Luc came to know them intimately. Should he die here the rune would surely devour him.
And so he chose his next words carefully.
"She was wrong! Her way may not work but there are others!"
Any thoughts of blasting the other away and escaping were soundly dismissed by the look turned upon him. The Tir he had spoken with for hours had been calm, almost overly so, and this person was most certainly not. This being looked at Luc like a troublesome insect whom he could squash at any time. At this proximity he could.
"I can get him a body, you need only find his soul."
"...I can't find it. Too many others."
Luc was not sure what 'others' meant exactly though he had a terrible impression from the word. How many ghosts had McDohl interacted with? From the understanding the trained sorcerer had of Soul Eater the number had to be...
He pushed that line of thought aside quickly.
"I know people who can help you. There is a bearer in the north, the Blue Moon. I met her..."
The look Tir gave him then made Luc hurry his words up greatly.
"She can find him. She can find any lost soul."
Quite literally 'lost souls' considering how she herself was one. Luc left the part about this bearer being a vampire carefully out of his explanation. That could come later when the other did not look ready to resume murder at the slightest provocation. Where was his servant? Surely the other had to hear them? Why had he not burst in and stopped his master ye-
It occurred to Luc that knowing Gremio the other was probably digging a hole somewhere to hide the body. Had twenty years really changed two people this much? Having been born with his true rune and immortality, Luc could scarcely understand how mortals managed to change in a mere breath of time.
"...can she really?"
A wisp of a voice. A flicker of reason.
"She can."
It worked. Luc could breath again - end he did, urgently - as Tir pulled hands - and that cursed rune! - from his throat. The other even helped him stand as reality slipped in the once-Lord's face again. Had he not needed the other so Luc would have surely fled, as far as he could go, as quickly as he could. Yet he stayed and faced the other resolutely. Tir turned away first and stated at the window, at the village he had come to call 'home' beyond, and spoke with resignation.
"You won't show me to her unless I help you?"
Luc took a precautionary step back, "Correct."
McDohl sighed, age seeping in, as he turned back.
"I will not kill anyone for you."
"You won't have to. Albert has Yuber for that."
"I also will not work with that demon."
After the display of sheer insanity a moment before, Luc felt McDohl was possible less stable than the other. At least Yuber was predictable for the most part. It also helped that Yuber could not kill with a pointed finger and a word. He carefully restrained from saying that and instead settled on a neutral, "I can't promise that." In honesty not even Luc wanted to work alongside the being that had nearly killed him on more than one occasion. There was no guarantee either of them could avoid it. Their goal was too great to let such things intervene.
"...I'll help." A pause. A whisper. "For Ted."
Any questions Luc had about why Tir sought the other so were answered by that whisper. He had suspected, even asked Leknaat once, and she had revealed nothing but cryptic philosophy none but she understood. Yet now he did and he felt nothing for using that information to force the other into aiding him. He and Tir were closer than most, both being immortal, but they were not friends. They never would be.
"Luc. . . try and keep the death toll low."
He was looking at the still-revealed Soul Eater. Luc understood why, as best he could. True Wind might have been another of the True Runes but elemental were fundamentally different from those which ruled over abstract concepts. Intellectually though he knew the worst plae for a bearer of Soul Eater to be was a war...and yet he was dragging him back regardless.
"Meet in a week at the Grasslands-Highland border. I'll send Sarah."
It wasn't the promise Tir wanted but Luc could not do that either. Instead he ducked his head to avoid the other's eyes and fled. Gremio was not at the door (or digging that hole) but stood in the tiny kitchen as Luc passed. Neither said goodbye - one too good to talk and the other too troubled by what he had eavesdropped on.
"Young Master. . ."
Gremio's voice was alone in the quiet home they would soon leave.
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AN: And that is the first chapter of that! Forgive the jarring nature of this first chapter. I've never been too hot at beginnings. I also realize Tir consented a little too fast but hey - I needed him to!