glassaxolotl | Dedue's Inbox

Erin is waiting there. Her saber is slung over the back of her chair, peacebonded and out of easy reach. The requested spinach croissant sits on a plate on the opposite side of the table; in front of Erin is a cinnamon roll made with several repetitions of 'extra icing'. The actual pastry is only barely visible.

"Evening, Dedue." Erin tips a small wave. "You seem to be recovering quite well. I do want to repeat my advice to see Tendi when you get the chance, but still. Settling in?"

Dedue settles in at the table and graciously takes his croissant.

“That will most likely be unnecessary,” he shakes his head. “The cast is coming off much earlier than anticipated. A man named Oswald used some sort of ‘party trick,’” he narrows his eyes, “which reduced my recovery time to half. I am close to being fully healed.”

“I have settled in well enough,” he adds. He doesn’t really want to give her any details, since he doesn’t know if he can trust her. So that is the most he will say.

Erin nods. Cuts her cinnamon roll with her fork to get time to think.

"...Dimitri sought me out after the game show. A private meeting, here, and before you stress yourself out over that I need to stress to you that in my professional opinion he can probably take me on. Maybe I'd win, but not for free. He wanted an explanation, which he received. He also gave one. The name of the prince of Faerghus is known to me now, and in light of that I realize that what I thought was light humor when we met was actually deeply cruel. Before...anything else, here, I want to apologize for that. I wronged you."

Erin is correct that Dedue is about to stress about it. But she does have a point. His Highness is certainly capable of defending himself. But he still should not be rushing off on his own. Dedue bites his tongue anyway.

Dedue feels simultaneous relief at knowing that Erin is aware of the truth and concern that she might use it against His Highness. There is no reason here for assassination, but Dedue has encountered enough of the attempts that he is always at least a little bit on guard.

“You did not know,” he sighs. “But even so, it was unnecessary. You cannot force another to forget their past. Still, I thank you for the apology. I was not expecting it.”

"...It's truly the least I can do." Sorrow shadows Erin's voice, and sympathy. "It won't happen again. And my offers from that day still stand; if you need anything I can provide, just ask. Even if I can't handle it I might know someone who does."

Erin sits up a bit straighter. She still hasn't tried eating, and odds are good that this cinnamon roll ends its life as a polite gesture rather than as a meal if we're all being honest.

"...I won't speak for Dimitri other than to say he's chosen to accept me as part of this community. Anything else is his business. But I'm not going to hide behind that either. Whatever concerns, questions, you might have...here I sit."

Dedue nods. He will have to get Dimitri’s side of the story later. But for now…

“At the game show, the Captain called you a ‘slaver,’” he says cautiously. “Is this true?”

"It was," Erin says, frankly. "If you measure from my first attack I was in that profession from the ages of seventeen to forty two. I could quibble about the details but that's all it would be, quibbling. I attacked my fellows and the innocent alike, was paid for my work, and employed as a mercenary besides, leading a crew as wretched and dangerous as I was. A year and a half before boarding this ship I attacked a man who bested me, and gave me the chance to be something different. I took that chance."

Erin pushes her plate to the side with a sigh. "...I didn't get into that profession freely, Dedue. Failure to comply would have meant a return to bondage, to torture and torment at the hands of my master. But I certainly made the situation much worse than that. Even if I hadn't, if I'd only attacked those I was ordered to, I destroyed their lives and delivered them to a fate as bad as my own. There's no excuse for that."

He looks at her. “You do not appear to be over forty-two. But then again, I recently spoke to a seemingly middle-aged man who was over one hundred.” He shrugs.

“When you say you attacked your fellows and the innocent alike, what does this mean? Who are your fellows?”

Edited 2022-11-28 20:15 (UTC)

"My people, the Lost, we tend to age well." Erin offers a wan smile and touches her pointed ear. "...We start human, completely and totally human. Each of us ends up in captivity as the property of the gods of nightmare, either stolen personally or sold to them. They hurt us, torture us in ways that natural law simply could not permit, and by those tortures we are changes into what we are. Most free Lost escape. I tried to. It didn't end well." Erin shakes her head. "...So when I say my people I mean that most of my commissions were to return my fellow victims to bondage after they had already escaped."

"So you were forced to re-capture other Lost so that they may be forced back into torture," he summarizes, wincing a bit. It sounds like an atrocious situation. He does not know what he would have done if he were her.

A thought occurs to him. "Is the Serena Eterna similar? Is the Captain one such god of nightmare?" (And if so, what is Erin doing here?)

Erin shakes her head. "I could get into the metaphysical comparisons but honestly the biggest tell is that we have conventional humans aboard, such as yourself, who can breathe the air. Unalloyed humanity doesn't survive the nightmare lands for any longer than it takes to suffocate."

Cold comfort from the memories that Erin's mighty Wyrd unlocked, but comfort nonetheless.

“So,” he confirms, “What you did is in the past. It is not the reason we are here now.”

"As far as I know. The binder claims any given person is chosen randomly, without input from the Captain." She chews her lip, for a moment. "But...it doesn't escape me that many of us seem to have a history of tragedy and strife."

“I have a hard time believing I was chosen at random,” Dedue grimaces. “If it was deliberate, then it was a very cruel joke.” There is a bitterness to his voice, a hint at a deep anger that is trapped far within.

He looks back at Erin. “You have regrets. And these were your own people you harmed, in similar situations to you. That context does matter. I will still keep an eye on you. But I can understand why His Highness might give you a second chance.”

"I don't expect you to like or trust me," Erin agrees in a soft voice. "Especially if I'm hanging around someone close to you. But I'm not going to stop living the life I've made here either. I can only hope to prove my sincerity."

“Good,” Dedue agrees, glad that they’re on the same page.

“I will not keep you from those things. I will only intervene if you do something that makes His Highness unsafe. I am sure you understand now what my role was to him before arriving here. I intend to continue it.”

"I don't think I'm going to shock you by saying that Dimitri is the chief threat to Dimitri right now. He's not doing well, trying to carry a weight here that shouldn't be his to bear. His body is fine. His heart..."

“That has been true for a long time,” Dedue sighs. “But especially now.”

He considers whether to say more. Erin has already confided something very personal to him. And the way she is talking about Dimitri proves that she knows some of his vulnerabilities well enough already. Dedue decides, in this instance, that it would be okay.

“I have had concerns since I learned when he first arrived. He was not well then. And it only grew worse, in my time. Much much worse. I do not want him to get to that point again.”

"Neither do I, but that noblesse oblige is hard to crack, isn't it?" Erin flashes a sympathetic smile. "...I've been working on it, but Dimitri went through a lot recently, and I'm some of what he went through. I wouldn't blame him if he felt betrayed by...you know. And now all my advice is suspect. Still. The youngbloods aboard deserve better than the cards they were dealt."

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