[Edward, rubbing his head and doing his best to be a steady presence and not run off to go get so drunk he passes out under a table, hears a familiar voice behind him and whips around. His eyes go wide.
He lurches forward to wrap Diarmuid up in a hug.]
Thank bloody Christ or Furina or whatever the hell else is looking out for us, you're alive.
[He was surprised, really. To be scooped up into a tight embrace so suddenly. But it was a comfort the knight did not know he needed in a sea of darkness and confusion.
The gods Diarmuid looked to were wildly different from Edward's... but he knew the rarity if then being invoked by his friend. His very mild faith. And at that what else could he do but ground himself in returning the hug just as tightly.
For some reason... Edward felt like his tether to the living world more than anything right now...]
I am fortunate to be... I am blessed to be, truly...
[There was a hitch in his breath. Like his composure was faltering. Like he could let himself show that weakness.]
[Edward does not let go. Is sort of loathe to, really, because some part of him is terrified Diarmuid will simply disappear if he does. After a moment, his grip loosens, and he pulls away, shakes his head.]
I...can't tell you what happened, not right now. [It had been a lot to hear about, and Diarmuid's only just now come back. He'll try and guide him to sit down somewhere, and in the meantime take off his brown cloak to drape over Diarmuid's shoulders.] I'm still trying to get my head 'round it myself. I can say that you didn't show up in the same room all the rest of us dead folk were.
[A breath.]
Do you want me to call Waver? He's likely worried sick for you right now.
... Alright. Yes, we... we needn't discuss the past four days right now. I believe we are both due some recovery time...
[Said with a bone deep exhausted sigh as he allowed his friend to guide him so they could sit. He dragged a hand down his face to put the view of a knight on again, but no. With Edward he didn't have to. He could be this haggard and unsettled...
But as that question to Diarmuid... there was a scratching at the back of his mind. A single nail dragging less than a centimeter down a chalkboard.
I believe everyone's due some recovery time. Me the least of all, I just died before it all went to hell.
[He's...doing his best not to think that his decision to go off on his own, borne out of the best intentions, might've touched all this off. It's not realistic, and anyway even if he hadn't done it the Baron would've simply killed off some other schmuck first and he would've fallen under suspicion readily. Still—the only thing keeping Edward from going down that familiar spiral of guilt might be the fact that right now Diarmuid needs him.
So he shifts around a little, to block people's view of Diarmuid.]
...what do you mean, who? [But already he's remembering what Waver said about Heroic Spirits, how they don't retain their memories of past summonings. But. Diarmuid knows Edward. So how come—] You—don't remember Waver? Waver Velvet, he's your partner. You live together, he's—
[Oh god. Edward's face just crumples, and his shoulders slump.]
[Unfortunately, it would indeed have been inevitable. Diarmuid knew an Assassin would be best suited to scout but he still felt regret that it came to this with his friend. Similarly to his friend he was trapped from descending into a guilt spiral.
But only because Edward's look of horror has no context for Diarmuid right now. At least towards that. He... He didn't know a "Waver"...]
He's my...? [... Did he? His gaze lowered, unable to see his friend look at him in such a way. He only looked at his hands in his lap.
... His left hand had a ring on the second to last finger...]
Ngh--! [It was a dense, throbbing pain that struck through Diarmuid's head. That ringed hand went straight to his head in reaction to the shock. He felt himself falling, falling like when Vittore's sword went through his heart. But then he was captured. Snagged and tangled, stabbed and slashed by thousands of unkempt, thorny tree branches and pulling his thoughts every which way.]
Dammit--! Urgh...! [It's exceedingly rare for Diarmuid to swear even lightly. Whatever was happening in his mind was excruciating. He could barely speak at his normal volume, only going just above a whisper as he tried to voice something to make sense of all of this.]
Master... Kayn... Ritsuka...?! No... no, that's not--! Waver...?! [A Servant, strictly speaking, did not need to breathe. And yet here Diarmuid was, simulating hyperventilation.]
But Rose... Vittore and Zulius and...?! [He didn't understand... if he truly died, he would not remember them either. Not them nor his friend and brother who stood before him. What... in the hell... happened to him...?]
[Edward grabs a tight hold of Diarmuid's shoulders, stuffing down his own rising panic. Not now not now not now. Focus on his friend first and panic about everything else later.]
Diarmuid—Diarmuid, hey, mate, look at me, okay? I'm sorry, forget what I said for now, just focus on me.
[His voice is steady and sure, which is great, because Edward does not feel very steady and sure right now. He's just very good at faking it.]
Follow how I breathe, all right? [Deep breath in, first, then holds for one, two three, then he expels all the breath out from his lungs. He's establishing a pattern: in, hold for three, out.]
["How unbecoming" the echoing, consistent thought rang out as he was trapped amidst branches of painful fate... from two different voices... no... three... four...?
But the one voice that sounded above them all was Edwards's. Snapping him back into reality once more and just nodding once at the direction.
If nothing else is consistent... at least his friend was. So he followed that deep breathing. In, hold in for three, out.
A few times. Just enough to remember where they were here and now.
... As he looked to the ring on his finger again, there was a sense of warm affection... of grounding. Of something he knew to be true no matter what.
...aye. And more than that besides. But don't—don't worry about that for now, all right? I'll explain what's happened to him.
[One hand drops so he can bring out his phone and text Waver about what happened, but at the same time he'll keep the other hand on Diarmuid's shoulder, just to anchor him here onto reality, in the present moment.]
You've been together for—really, as long as I've known the both of you.
[That was one thing solidified... his Master was Waver Velvet. Is Waver Velvet. He sensed a tether, a pull of mana from a limited source but a source nevertheless. While Edward's hand was still grounding him, his eyes were still on that ring.
It was his friend's presence that kept him from falling any further. From moving an inch lest he get torn by fate's brambles again.
Concern painted his expression at the thought of explaining this to his Master. If they were... if they were so close then...?]
Wait. If... if he learns my memories are in flux... he will be heartbroken. [Diarmuid didn't know why he knew that, didn't know why this specific incident of his memory being altered after perishing was something he keenly wished to prevent.
But he did. He could not yet put a face to a name, but there was a coldness that rang through the branches. A coldness synonymous with people he's called "Master", but this one being especially painful... like it was foreign to this Master.]
How could I ever face him after such a failure on my part?
[Oh, god, Diarmuid, why must you always take on the failures of others onto your own shoulders? Edward's face crumples, and he shakes his head in response. Diarmuid's so hell-bent on being a good man, a good knight—it breaks Edward's heart something fierce to hear him call circumstances far out of his own control a miserable failure.]
I won't lie and say he won't be heartbroken. He will be, because he loves you—but it'll be for your sake, and not because he believes it a failure. He doesn't, I promise you, he doesn't. He just misses you, that's all.
[A breath.]
Do you want me to bring you home to him, or should we wait for him here?
[Whether Diarmuid's memories are kept, lost or in flux... what will always remain is that he is a knight. And if he was not a knight. He was not Diarmuid ua Duibhne.
Hearing "he loves you" was like another knife to his chest. Diarmuid would shatter if the circumstances were reversed. If the love of his life had no recollection of him...
A weak, still emotionally raw part of him wished to choose neither option. It went up the chain to one a little stronger telling him to remain here for his Master.
But as ever, the brave and powerful knight within him prevailed. Even through the guilt he couldn't hide on his face as he downcasted. Four voices quietly echoing in his head again, calling him a failure were only quiet because he was not alone.]
I think that I remember the way. The lay of the land here, that I still remember though I do not understand why. It is best, I believe, to confront my Master in his own space.
[...]
Though I would appreciate it if I weren't alone for the journey. I ask that you accompany me to his home.
[Not "our" home. It... it didn't feel right to call it that right now. He didn't have the right.]
I'll take you there the whole way. As for why you're able to remember me and Kaisou but not Waver... [He lets out a breath, runs a hand through his hair.] Mate, I'm not sure, either. It might be something about your nature as a spirit bound to your partner, but you and Waver would know a hell of a lot more than I do.
[Except Edward has his best friend's relic stashed carefully away under his cabin's floorboards in the Jackdaw. So he wonders if that's contributed something.
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He lurches forward to wrap Diarmuid up in a hug.]
Thank bloody Christ or Furina or whatever the hell else is looking out for us, you're alive.
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The gods Diarmuid looked to were wildly different from Edward's... but he knew the rarity if then being invoked by his friend. His very mild faith. And at that what else could he do but ground himself in returning the hug just as tightly.
For some reason... Edward felt like his tether to the living world more than anything right now...]
I am fortunate to be... I am blessed to be, truly...
[There was a hitch in his breath. Like his composure was faltering. Like he could let himself show that weakness.]
What have I done... what happened...?
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I...can't tell you what happened, not right now. [It had been a lot to hear about, and Diarmuid's only just now come back. He'll try and guide him to sit down somewhere, and in the meantime take off his brown cloak to drape over Diarmuid's shoulders.] I'm still trying to get my head 'round it myself. I can say that you didn't show up in the same room all the rest of us dead folk were.
[A breath.]
Do you want me to call Waver? He's likely worried sick for you right now.
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[Said with a bone deep exhausted sigh as he allowed his friend to guide him so they could sit. He dragged a hand down his face to put the view of a knight on again, but no. With Edward he didn't have to. He could be this haggard and unsettled...
But as that question to Diarmuid... there was a scratching at the back of his mind. A single nail dragging less than a centimeter down a chalkboard.
And no recognition in his eyes. ]
... Who?
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[He's...doing his best not to think that his decision to go off on his own, borne out of the best intentions, might've touched all this off. It's not realistic, and anyway even if he hadn't done it the Baron would've simply killed off some other schmuck first and he would've fallen under suspicion readily. Still—the only thing keeping Edward from going down that familiar spiral of guilt might be the fact that right now Diarmuid needs him.
So he shifts around a little, to block people's view of Diarmuid.]
...what do you mean, who? [But already he's remembering what Waver said about Heroic Spirits, how they don't retain their memories of past summonings. But. Diarmuid knows Edward. So how come—] You—don't remember Waver? Waver Velvet, he's your partner. You live together, he's—
[Oh god. Edward's face just crumples, and his shoulders slump.]
Christ, what am I going to tell him?
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But only because Edward's look of horror has no context for Diarmuid right now. At least towards that. He... He didn't know a "Waver"...]
He's my...? [... Did he? His gaze lowered, unable to see his friend look at him in such a way. He only looked at his hands in his lap.
... His left hand had a ring on the second to last finger...]
Ngh--! [It was a dense, throbbing pain that struck through Diarmuid's head. That ringed hand went straight to his head in reaction to the shock. He felt himself falling, falling like when Vittore's sword went through his heart. But then he was captured. Snagged and tangled, stabbed and slashed by thousands of unkempt, thorny tree branches and pulling his thoughts every which way.]
Dammit--! Urgh...! [It's exceedingly rare for Diarmuid to swear even lightly. Whatever was happening in his mind was excruciating. He could barely speak at his normal volume, only going just above a whisper as he tried to voice something to make sense of all of this.]
Master... Kayn... Ritsuka...?! No... no, that's not--! Waver...?! [A Servant, strictly speaking, did not need to breathe. And yet here Diarmuid was, simulating hyperventilation.]
But Rose... Vittore and Zulius and...?! [He didn't understand... if he truly died, he would not remember them either. Not them nor his friend and brother who stood before him. What... in the hell... happened to him...?]
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[Edward grabs a tight hold of Diarmuid's shoulders, stuffing down his own rising panic. Not now not now not now. Focus on his friend first and panic about everything else later.]
Diarmuid—Diarmuid, hey, mate, look at me, okay? I'm sorry, forget what I said for now, just focus on me.
[His voice is steady and sure, which is great, because Edward does not feel very steady and sure right now. He's just very good at faking it.]
Follow how I breathe, all right? [Deep breath in, first, then holds for one, two three, then he expels all the breath out from his lungs. He's establishing a pattern: in, hold for three, out.]
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But the one voice that sounded above them all was Edwards's. Snapping him back into reality once more and just nodding once at the direction.
If nothing else is consistent... at least his friend was. So he followed that deep breathing. In, hold in for three, out.
A few times. Just enough to remember where they were here and now.
... As he looked to the ring on his finger again, there was a sense of warm affection... of grounding. Of something he knew to be true no matter what.
Even if "what" that was didn't register in full.
After a long silence, Diarmuid spoke quietly.]
Edward Kenway... I ask of you...
... Is "Waver Velvet"... my Master?
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[One hand drops so he can bring out his phone and text Waver about what happened, but at the same time he'll keep the other hand on Diarmuid's shoulder, just to anchor him here onto reality, in the present moment.]
You've been together for—really, as long as I've known the both of you.
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[That was one thing solidified... his Master was Waver Velvet. Is Waver Velvet. He sensed a tether, a pull of mana from a limited source but a source nevertheless. While Edward's hand was still grounding him, his eyes were still on that ring.
It was his friend's presence that kept him from falling any further. From moving an inch lest he get torn by fate's brambles again.
Concern painted his expression at the thought of explaining this to his Master. If they were... if they were so close then...?]
Wait. If... if he learns my memories are in flux... he will be heartbroken. [Diarmuid didn't know why he knew that, didn't know why this specific incident of his memory being altered after perishing was something he keenly wished to prevent.
But he did. He could not yet put a face to a name, but there was a coldness that rang through the branches. A coldness synonymous with people he's called "Master", but this one being especially painful... like it was foreign to this Master.]
How could I ever face him after such a failure on my part?
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I won't lie and say he won't be heartbroken. He will be, because he loves you—but it'll be for your sake, and not because he believes it a failure. He doesn't, I promise you, he doesn't. He just misses you, that's all.
[A breath.]
Do you want me to bring you home to him, or should we wait for him here?
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Hearing "he loves you" was like another knife to his chest. Diarmuid would shatter if the circumstances were reversed. If the love of his life had no recollection of him...
A weak, still emotionally raw part of him wished to choose neither option. It went up the chain to one a little stronger telling him to remain here for his Master.
But as ever, the brave and powerful knight within him prevailed. Even through the guilt he couldn't hide on his face as he downcasted. Four voices quietly echoing in his head again, calling him a failure were only quiet because he was not alone.]
I think that I remember the way. The lay of the land here, that I still remember though I do not understand why. It is best, I believe, to confront my Master in his own space.
[...]
Though I would appreciate it if I weren't alone for the journey. I ask that you accompany me to his home.
[Not "our" home. It... it didn't feel right to call it that right now. He didn't have the right.]
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I'll take you there the whole way. As for why you're able to remember me and Kaisou but not Waver... [He lets out a breath, runs a hand through his hair.] Mate, I'm not sure, either. It might be something about your nature as a spirit bound to your partner, but you and Waver would know a hell of a lot more than I do.
[Except Edward has his best friend's relic stashed carefully away under his cabin's floorboards in the Jackdaw. So he wonders if that's contributed something.
But he doesn't say that right now.]
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[Diarmuid will likely be lost within his own mind, but Edward is the closest thing to a familiar tether he had right now. As for his relic...
That was simply too complicated to consider at the moment. That was the territory of a Mage...]