[Diarmuid had to stop and consider that given the sensitivity here... but heavens, the people in Central Perk were so caught in their own minds they wouldn't hear a word of his business.]
That sounds like a plan. I'll see you there.
[Indeed, it wasn't too long before Diarmuid made his way there. He would basically never leave without those sunglasses of his even in overcast skies but today he was particularly avoidant of catching attention.
There's a side glance at that same group that was here every day before he approached and sat by Edward with a smile.]
Well met, my friend. And Happy New Year, Athbhliain faoi Mhaise Duit. [Dropping modern Irish was a rare thing, but it was the New Year and it wasn't like he needed to hide behind his class.]
[With the bitter cold setting in, Edward is slightly harder to find than he usually is, blonde hair covered by the thick hoodie he’s wearing—a grey-blue jacket with I❤️NY printed across the front. He pushes the hood back when he spots Diarmuid and waves him over to the spare seat next to him, which affords a very good view of whatever shenanigans the Couch People are getting up to now.]
Happy New Year as well, Diarmuid. Uh—blwyddyn newydd da. [The Welsh comes out slow, because Edward hasn’t spoken the language since he was very young, and his tongue stumbles slowly over it, as if trying to recall the shape of the words upon it and coming up with only an awkward approximation of what he remembers.] Eh, don’t fuss, and thanks for agreeing to meet here.
[The attempt was still appreciated for what it was, Diarmuid was somewhat aware that he had a leg up with regards to modern language. The Throne of Heroes gave him Japanese fluency for free on top of updating his archaic mother tongue.
At the gesture he noted the new person among the couch people and hearing that it was the regrettably awful singer's half-brother. Well, on two fronts one could practically see the Exasperated Anime Sweat Drop of Foreknowledge(tm).]
I don't need to be a seer to know nothing good will come of newly arriving family in their affairs. As much as I have a preference for optimism, they haven't inspired confidence on that front.
[Someone might have some issues, and it may or may not be the Legendary Hero. Granted, this managed to be tangentially related to Diarmuid's favor.]
On that note, I should explain why I've called on you here. [Said while digging into his coat pocket, his tone going from passively petty to somewhat somber.]
I need you to hold onto something for me. [He pulled out a small black box, sliding it across the table for Edward to take with a light gesture afterwards wordlessly stating he's free to look inside. If he does, he'll find an ivory shard on a chain that he may recognize as something Waver often wore.]
Oh, nothing good for them, but it'll at least be quite entertaining for me and the rest of the group chat. [Whom he is texting right now.] Did you order a drink yet?
[Please don't ask him to order it because the barista will call for the clumsy corsair and Edward really does not want to explain that mess with the triceratops right now. He turns to Diarmuid more fully when he hears the shift in tone, his cheer fading into something more serious.
He opens the box. Peers at it. Then looks up at Diarmuid. Softly, so as to not attract attention:] Isn't this Waver's? I'll hold it, of course, but—I've seen him wear something like this.
I haven't yet, you may leave it to me. [He didn't know or ask why Edward had such an aversion to ordering drinks here, but he handled it when the barista came around.
He gave Edward a solumn nod, silently considering how he would explain this.]
It is, indeed. Or rather it was something he kept close at all times as something like this in our world could be dangerous in the wrong hands. [A pause, knowing this was a complicated story that he wouldn't feel right keeping to himself given the true reason for his favor.] It is related to my origin. Both as I lived and as a Heroic Spirit.
[Edward breathes a sigh of relief when the barista comes around and takes Diarmuid's order. Thank god, he doesn't have to explain that whole embarrassment to his friend.
And then he stares down at the velvet box, the implications of what Diarmuid said ringing in his head. Dangerous in the wrong hands, he'd said, but here it is in Edward's. As if his hands are the right hands for safekeeping. As if he can be trusted not to turn around and sell it to the highest bidder, like he'd done with those maps of Assassin bureaus, so long ago.
It's a heady feeling, being trusted with something as huge as this. He won't let Diarmuid down.
He closes the velvet box, tucks it away into a spare pocket in his hoodie.]
How's it dangerous? It's so slight a thing I can hardly believe it could be much of a weapon in any hand.
I can't say for certain whether the same danger exists in this world. At the very least so long as I'm bound to Waver it will not.
[Something to establish quickly lest Edward's concern increase. Granted, the chances of something catastrophic happening were not zero. This world was unpredictable... but he'd dare not think on that any longer.]
One means to summon a Heroic Spirit is by using relics that tie to them, historical artifacts unearthed and most likely kept in the hands of Mage families.
It is dangerous in that this is the very relic that summoned me into the 20th century. [Diarmuid who Edward has seen several times has absolutely inhuman capabilities whose lance work his opponents will barely comprehend before they're downed. There's a long pause as something else he dared not to dwell on crept into his mind. Alas, it was relevant.]
I was incredibly close to being, and in another branch of history was, summoned not by Waver but by a selfish man who cared only for power. For furthering his ambition and reputation in the world of Mages. [He felt his heart once again go out to the other Diarmuid... having to experience Kayneth as a master.]
[Oh. The enormity of the favor he's been asked hits Edward even harder, like a well-aimed punch to the face from some furious brute. For a moment he wants to ask Diarmuid if he's sure he got the right man, but. He thinks of Mary, what she might say to him of this course, and decides to keep his self-doubt to himself.
Still, his fingers drum on the table, a hint of his nervousness about having something like this entrusted to him. The only other time he felt like this, he'd just pulled off one of his first big takes as a pirate, and old Ben Hornigold had clapped him on the back, said, Get used to it.
Hornigold had turned on them all, and Edward still can't find it in himself to forgive him for it, but. He still hears it in his head: Get used to it, Kenway.]
You're a lucky fellow, then. Waver seems a much kinder sort than that. [Funny, though, that from the description of this almost-master alone, Edward can't help but see his own course, and how it might've ended up. How it could still end up.] So by itself, it's not a weapon, but it could summon you to act as a weapon at the will of another. Have I got that right?
[Well. He is definitely not letting this fall into anyone else's hands now. It'll go on the Jackdaw, in his personal chest, under lock and key.]
So how did you end up with Waver, instead of this selfish, ambitious mage that you speak of?
Fortune truly smiled upon me that fateful day. [And every time he was reminded of that the weight felt heavier on his heart. How close this Diarmuid came and what manner of cruelty did the other Diarmuid face?]
You have the right of it. As for how Waver came to be the one who summoned me, I'm not sure. He must have acquired the relic on his own somehow.
[It was never Diarmuid's place to ask, all he knew now were things he glimpsed from the Library in September.
Ambition was not a poor trait to have. It was, like many things, a double edged sword. One could use their ambition for the betterment of themselves or those around them or one could use it to trample all over someone and leave the companions they made in the dust. It was a matter of loyalty that separated the two.
He took a breath, deciding it was about the time to fully explain himself.]
... The potential danger isn't the entire truth of why I ask this favor of you. [Only a small portion in fact.]
[He's been on both sides of the line, when it comes to ambition. He—hopes he's better than that man under whose power Diarmuid almost fell under. Thinks so, anyway. He'd never use a man, a friend that way, at least not knowingly.
And...well. Okay then. Danger is one thing, but there's clearly something else going on here, because truthfully, with Diarmuid bound to Waver, he's already spoken for. Can't summon him again. Hell, this relic would be safer with Waver instead of Edward, so something is up here.]
All right. Why else would you ask such a favor of an old pirate like me?
[There was no greater enemy, none more fierce for the brave and handsome Diarmuid ua Duibhne to face... than his own troubled heart.
There wasn't a delicate way around this, and there was little point in dancing past it either way. There was a long pause as he took the time to remove the sunglasses he wore, folding them and setting them on the table. No sense in hiding behind them.]
A demonic boar tusk. The very relic that brought me into this era as a Heroic Spirit is the one that ended my life as a human. Which ultimately caused the end of the Fianna.
[His own half-brother killed him, his death led to the infighting amongst his band of knights resulting in its eventual collapse. All these things he could only blame himself for. Despite the fact that it could have been avoided if his lord...
... no.
A hand rested over the sunglasses.]
Waver kept these as well as the relic after the conclusion of the war I was summoned into... they were all that was left. [Which said all it needed to. He died in that war too.]
He gave it to me this Christmas, telling me that it is my right to decide the fate that ultimately comes of this relic. [Which perhaps was not wrong, given who it was. There's another long pause and a light shake of his head.]
But I... I am not ready to choose its fate. [At the edge of his tone there was a tremble he wouldn't let free. Whether in sorrow or rage or something else not even Diarmuid could say.] And until such a time that I am, I need to be separated from it for a while. That is why I make this selfish request of you.
Jesus, that's a little macabre. [This is coming from the pirate who's grown used to seeing hanging bodies. The relic feels even heavier now in his pouch. Christ, this is going in the Jackdaw, and frankly he thinks it ought to be tossed into the sea, but he's not about to do that without Diarmuid's permission.
He scratches at his cheek, over the stubble.]
Oh. [Well. Fuck.
How many times can a man die over the centuries, Edward wonders, before that does something to him. Before it breaks his spirit. Even Heroic Spirits have a breaking point, Edward's seen Diarmuid snap once before.]
I'll keep it safe and sound somewhere that's secure, [aka his cabin on the Jackdaw,] until you're ready to decide what to do with it. You've my word on that, for what that's worth.
[Diarmuid wouldn't even blame him for casting it into the sea, nor for refusing a request so ridiculous. Indeed, at their hearts Servants too had hearts of humans. Everyone would reach their breaking point eventually.
Diarmuid went out on his own terms the latter two times at least. Though the gravity of those last two times, the consequences that he left Waver in, are things he's coming to add to his endless list of regrets.
He let out a breath he didn't know he held back and with it came a smile that while relieved reflected great pain as well. A heavy weight was lifted but when you live every waking moment carrying it the lightness, the rawness, is exposed to the elements.]
And I trust your word. Thank you for accepting this personal favor of mine. It means more to me than I can express with words.
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no subject
Nothing so dire or strenuous on the Jackdaw.
Still, I would prefer to discuss it in person. It is a personal, selfish request. Could I meet you somewhere?
no subject
Of course. Central Perk? We can watch those dolts make fools out of themselves while waiting for our drinks.
text -> action
That sounds like a plan. I'll see you there.
[Indeed, it wasn't too long before Diarmuid made his way there. He would basically never leave without those sunglasses of his even in overcast skies but today he was particularly avoidant of catching attention.
There's a side glance at that same group that was here every day before he approached and sat by Edward with a smile.]
Well met, my friend. And Happy New Year, Athbhliain faoi Mhaise Duit. [Dropping modern Irish was a rare thing, but it was the New Year and it wasn't like he needed to hide behind his class.]
Thank you for meeting on such short notice.
action
Happy New Year as well, Diarmuid. Uh—blwyddyn newydd da. [The Welsh comes out slow, because Edward hasn’t spoken the language since he was very young, and his tongue stumbles slowly over it, as if trying to recall the shape of the words upon it and coming up with only an awkward approximation of what he remembers.] Eh, don’t fuss, and thanks for agreeing to meet here.
[He jerks a thumb towards the Couch People.]
Look, that new one’s the singer’s half-brother.
no subject
At the gesture he noted the new person among the couch people and hearing that it was the regrettably awful singer's half-brother. Well, on two fronts one could practically see the Exasperated Anime Sweat Drop of Foreknowledge(tm).]
I don't need to be a seer to know nothing good will come of newly arriving family in their affairs. As much as I have a preference for optimism, they haven't inspired confidence on that front.
[Someone might have some issues, and it may or may not be the Legendary Hero. Granted, this managed to be tangentially related to Diarmuid's favor.]
On that note, I should explain why I've called on you here. [Said while digging into his coat pocket, his tone going from passively petty to somewhat somber.]
I need you to hold onto something for me. [He pulled out a small black box, sliding it across the table for Edward to take with a light gesture afterwards wordlessly stating he's free to look inside. If he does, he'll find an ivory shard on a chain that he may recognize as something Waver often wore.]
no subject
[Please don't ask him to order it because the barista will call for the clumsy corsair and Edward really does not want to explain that mess with the triceratops right now. He turns to Diarmuid more fully when he hears the shift in tone, his cheer fading into something more serious.
He opens the box. Peers at it. Then looks up at Diarmuid. Softly, so as to not attract attention:] Isn't this Waver's? I'll hold it, of course, but—I've seen him wear something like this.
no subject
He gave Edward a solumn nod, silently considering how he would explain this.]
It is, indeed. Or rather it was something he kept close at all times as something like this in our world could be dangerous in the wrong hands. [A pause, knowing this was a complicated story that he wouldn't feel right keeping to himself given the true reason for his favor.] It is related to my origin. Both as I lived and as a Heroic Spirit.
no subject
And then he stares down at the velvet box, the implications of what Diarmuid said ringing in his head. Dangerous in the wrong hands, he'd said, but here it is in Edward's. As if his hands are the right hands for safekeeping. As if he can be trusted not to turn around and sell it to the highest bidder, like he'd done with those maps of Assassin bureaus, so long ago.
It's a heady feeling, being trusted with something as huge as this. He won't let Diarmuid down.
He closes the velvet box, tucks it away into a spare pocket in his hoodie.]
How's it dangerous? It's so slight a thing I can hardly believe it could be much of a weapon in any hand.
no subject
[Something to establish quickly lest Edward's concern increase. Granted, the chances of something catastrophic happening were not zero. This world was unpredictable... but he'd dare not think on that any longer.]
One means to summon a Heroic Spirit is by using relics that tie to them, historical artifacts unearthed and most likely kept in the hands of Mage families.
It is dangerous in that this is the very relic that summoned me into the 20th century. [Diarmuid who Edward has seen several times has absolutely inhuman capabilities whose lance work his opponents will barely comprehend before they're downed. There's a long pause as something else he dared not to dwell on crept into his mind. Alas, it was relevant.]
I was incredibly close to being, and in another branch of history was, summoned not by Waver but by a selfish man who cared only for power. For furthering his ambition and reputation in the world of Mages. [He felt his heart once again go out to the other Diarmuid... having to experience Kayneth as a master.]
no subject
Still, his fingers drum on the table, a hint of his nervousness about having something like this entrusted to him. The only other time he felt like this, he'd just pulled off one of his first big takes as a pirate, and old Ben Hornigold had clapped him on the back, said, Get used to it.
Hornigold had turned on them all, and Edward still can't find it in himself to forgive him for it, but. He still hears it in his head: Get used to it, Kenway.]
You're a lucky fellow, then. Waver seems a much kinder sort than that. [Funny, though, that from the description of this almost-master alone, Edward can't help but see his own course, and how it might've ended up. How it could still end up.] So by itself, it's not a weapon, but it could summon you to act as a weapon at the will of another. Have I got that right?
[Well. He is definitely not letting this fall into anyone else's hands now. It'll go on the Jackdaw, in his personal chest, under lock and key.]
So how did you end up with Waver, instead of this selfish, ambitious mage that you speak of?
no subject
You have the right of it. As for how Waver came to be the one who summoned me, I'm not sure. He must have acquired the relic on his own somehow.
[It was never Diarmuid's place to ask, all he knew now were things he glimpsed from the Library in September.
Ambition was not a poor trait to have. It was, like many things, a double edged sword. One could use their ambition for the betterment of themselves or those around them or one could use it to trample all over someone and leave the companions they made in the dust. It was a matter of loyalty that separated the two.
He took a breath, deciding it was about the time to fully explain himself.]
... The potential danger isn't the entire truth of why I ask this favor of you. [Only a small portion in fact.]
no subject
And...well. Okay then. Danger is one thing, but there's clearly something else going on here, because truthfully, with Diarmuid bound to Waver, he's already spoken for. Can't summon him again. Hell, this relic would be safer with Waver instead of Edward, so something is up here.]
All right. Why else would you ask such a favor of an old pirate like me?
no subject
[There was no greater enemy, none more fierce for the brave and handsome Diarmuid ua Duibhne to face... than his own troubled heart.
There wasn't a delicate way around this, and there was little point in dancing past it either way. There was a long pause as he took the time to remove the sunglasses he wore, folding them and setting them on the table. No sense in hiding behind them.]
A demonic boar tusk. The very relic that brought me into this era as a Heroic Spirit is the one that ended my life as a human. Which ultimately caused the end of the Fianna.
[His own half-brother killed him, his death led to the infighting amongst his band of knights resulting in its eventual collapse. All these things he could only blame himself for. Despite the fact that it could have been avoided if his lord...
... no.
A hand rested over the sunglasses.]
Waver kept these as well as the relic after the conclusion of the war I was summoned into... they were all that was left. [Which said all it needed to. He died in that war too.]
He gave it to me this Christmas, telling me that it is my right to decide the fate that ultimately comes of this relic. [Which perhaps was not wrong, given who it was. There's another long pause and a light shake of his head.]
But I... I am not ready to choose its fate. [At the edge of his tone there was a tremble he wouldn't let free. Whether in sorrow or rage or something else not even Diarmuid could say.] And until such a time that I am, I need to be separated from it for a while. That is why I make this selfish request of you.
no subject
He scratches at his cheek, over the stubble.]
Oh. [Well. Fuck.
How many times can a man die over the centuries, Edward wonders, before that does something to him. Before it breaks his spirit. Even Heroic Spirits have a breaking point, Edward's seen Diarmuid snap once before.]
I'll keep it safe and sound somewhere that's secure, [aka his cabin on the Jackdaw,] until you're ready to decide what to do with it. You've my word on that, for what that's worth.
no subject
Diarmuid went out on his own terms the latter two times at least. Though the gravity of those last two times, the consequences that he left Waver in, are things he's coming to add to his endless list of regrets.
He let out a breath he didn't know he held back and with it came a smile that while relieved reflected great pain as well. A heavy weight was lifted but when you live every waking moment carrying it the lightness, the rawness, is exposed to the elements.]
And I trust your word. Thank you for accepting this personal favor of mine. It means more to me than I can express with words.