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itafushin · 2 years

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Why I think Macaque is extremely BPD coded

Note: This is a breakdown of why I believe Macaque has BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder) and how that shows in his actions and affects how he treats others. I will try my best to properly explain each symptom and how the show writes it into Macaque’s character as a whole. (This will be set up by symptoms and won’t reflect all episodes Macaque appears in, only putting emphasis on season 1 episode 9 and season 2 episode 7 in particular.)

Note: I am a Borderline and this will have some personal experiences reflected in how I deal with my disorder so. With that, let’s begin !!

Favorite Person

This isn’t necessarily a symptom as not every borderline has an fp but it is noted to be an important enough occurrence for it to be a staple of being borderline.

A favorite person is someone incredibly important in a borderline’s life that becomes their constant source of happiness and validation. It’s someone who the borderline goes to for the majority of their attention and heavily relies on that other person to the point where it damages their relationship.

Now you’re probably wondering, ‘What does this have to do with Macaque?’, well I am a firm believer that Wukong was (and still is) Macaque’s favorite person. He is very clearly co-dependent on Wukong and probably has been for centuries. He actively seeks out some sort of response from Wukong as a way to gain his attention. Going as far as messing with the next closest person to the ginger, his successor.

Macaque torments and mocks Wukong constantly because he thrives on negative attention. He may not fully register that it’s negative because it’s attention nonetheless, and it wouldn’t matter if it was positive or not because it has the same effect. With this in mind, you could see him changing the logo on Mk’s jacket as a statement meant to mock Wukong. (Because we know and have seen Macaque be a lot more sneaky with his attacks, he could have easily hidden it but he chose to keep it in the open and the logo even laughs at Wukong.)

He sees Wukong as a hero, someone who is loved widely by others, and this comparison goes hand in hand with Macaque calling him the sun. Something bright that shines upon everything and everyone around them. Mac says these things very bitterly though, despite showing us that he once saw the two as equals.

Because of this, it might be a bit debatable whether Macaque truly hates Wukong or not. Borderlines suffer from extreme emotional dysregulation and tend to amplify their emotions (will elaborate on this further down) so Macaque’s hatred could stem entirely from this dysregulation. But he uses these comparisons as a way to express his emotions without downright saying them, considering it’s safe to assume he sucks at putting his emotions into words. It makes him angry when Wukong doesn’t go all out when they fight, mocking him and lashing out in his anger. To the point where it becomes obsessive, and it’s causing him to spiral into these feelings of anger constantly. (Especially since he’s quick to resolve every problem with a fight)

“C’mon! Show me the real Sun Wukong! The old you would have leveled this whole mountain range to stop me, but now you’re afraid of hurting some kid? Pathetic!”

With the heavy reliance borderlines have on their fps, strong instances of jealousy are bound to sprout up and Macaque is a prime example of how that jealousy can affect someone’s actions towards those around them. When he’s introduced, he’s given this light carefree attitude seemingly to make him feel more approachable, at least from Mk’s perspective. When Mk asks him to teach that move he had done to hit the smoke monster, Macaque is quick to say a very backhanded thing that is very obviously meant to be a jab at Mk’s confidence. Both in himself and in Wukong’s teaching. (This could stem from Macaque’s jealousy of Mk, that this kid is who Wukong cares for so deeply and is able to stay on his good side. Unlike Macaque.)

“[...]...I’m sure Monkey king would agree. It’s not like he would want to hold you back.”

This jealousy leads to him projecting his insecurities onto Mk and causes him to have this warped impression of the kid before even meeting him. Macaque constantly mentions how alike Mk is to Wukong, in ways that only Macaque seems to notice. They’re all negative traits that Macaque amplifies or may have completely fabricated, calling him selfish and implying that Mk is going to eventually forget about his friends simply because he’s a hero, just as Wukong did. (It could also be part of the reason why Macaque’s steady target has been Mk). He even goes as far as to try and tell Mk he missed the point of his shadow play, causing Mk genuine confusion because he doesn’t believe he’s anything like how Macaque portrays Wukong. “Other people are going to tell you to be patient, they are slowing you down.”

Now, this can be reaching or something entirely different but you could see Macaque’s bitterness towards Wukong and his insistence that he’s a bad teacher slightly stemming from jealousy as well. We know Wukong isn’t actually a bad teacher, or at least not as bad as Macaque seems to emphasize, but he’s been so bitter that he’s convinced himself that Wukong is much worse than he actually is. And because of this, he tries pushing this mindset onto Mk so he doubts Wukong and leaves him, much like Wukong did to Macaque.

The most obvious thing that actually stood out to me first and was the reason I thought Mac had BPD in the first place was how incredibly personally he took the falling out. He reacted so violently to it that it’s permanently stuck on his mind at all times. The emotions from that moment are so amplified that Macaque is unable to move on, latching onto the events like a lifeline because it’s all he knows. He had dedicated the majority of his new life to getting revenge on Wukong for this falling out because he blames all of it entirely on the latter. There’s a headcanon that LBD may have altered his memories of that event to make him further hate Wukong but I don’t entirely believe that’s true. It’s possible LBD probably did have a little tweaking in his memories but I don’t think she altered anything related to Macaque’s feelings about Wukong because he already did that himself. Macaque sees that day as the day Wukong left him, abandoned him for a surge of power, and planted the idea in his own head that Wukong was being selfish. That Wukong must have left because Mac wasn’t useful anymore and therefore he must not have cared all that much, which makes Macaque an unreliable narrator and he’s shown to be manipulative and choosy with how he phrases things. He sees Wukong as a backstabber who was quick to leave as soon as he became that hero that Macaque equates to being close to Heaven. (see pedestal screenshot)

Macaque let himself become so overwhelmed by that abandonment that he firmly believes Wukong didn’t and probably never cared about him to the same degree that Macaque cared. (Even though it is implied that Wukong did care, the two being inseparable and doing everything together. The two even were equals at some point.) And as much as Macaque makes himself want to hate Wukong, he can’t truly do it because he’s still codependent on the other. He still seeks out Wukong’s attention and still aims to mock him, continuously bringing him up when he speaks with the other members of Mk’s group. He sees himself as someone who was ‘too close’ to Wukong and suffered the consequences of that, despite many of the consequences being forced on him by himself. (All this could be why he is so adamant about telling everyone how much he thinks Wukong sucks. He firmly believes Wukong was entirely in the wrong and he had nothing to do with it and jumps at the opportunity to play the victim card. Even if it means leaving out details that might paint it the other way.)

“What would you like to hear? The hero suddenly remembered his beloved friend the warrior? That they lived happily ever after?”

It's obvious that Macaque still cares so deeply for Wukong to the point where it could even be implied that he wants a happy ending. He wishes for that happy ending, to be able to say Wukong did remember him and did come back. Him constantly talking about this falling out and painting himself as the victim could be his way of saying he wishes it ended differently, could be his way of trying to raise a jumpstart in Wukong. It could be a way for him to try and see if maybe something else will come out of this, that doing the same thing over and over might cause a change of outcome. (Obviously, it doesn’t work because nobody knows what he’s thinking, ever.)

Intense fear of abandonment

This symptom is one that I think Macaque struggles with the most. He does not handle rejection that well and will do anything to avoid it, much like how he’ll do anything to avoid abandonment. He saw Wukong reject him and leave him and decided that he’ll never leave Wukong alone, that he will continue to show up because he will always be Wukong’s shadow. He saw Wukong leaving continuously as an attack on him as a person, immediately internalizing it and believing he was the problem. He makes sure to keep Wukong as close as an arm’s distance so that if Wukong does choose to leave again, Macaque won’t be as hurt by it as he was the first time. It causes him to dwell on the past, not being able to stop. He keeps reliving what happened because he truly believes he needs to accomplish some sort of justice against Wukong for what happened.

Alternatively, Macaque also will do anything to prevent new people from getting too close. When he notices that Mk is starting to grow on him, he starts to withdraw, amplifying his attempts at showing the kid he isn’t worth it. He becomes more and more aggressive throughout season 3, partly because of his rush to get out of lbd’s control but also because he’s slowly beginning to warm up to Mk’s group. (With the way his first initial idea was to try and convince Mk to come with him willingly and when he had done the same thing with Tang.)

He schemes and manipulates the people around him because its in his nature but also to keep their predetermined impression of him stay bad. Macaque hates relying on people, much rather staying and working alone than with others because of the disappointment it usually leads to. He doesn’t know how to properly open up anymore for fear of that other person leaving too.

Unstable relationships

As I’ve mentioned before Macaque’s relationship with Wukong was incredibly unstable. He valued Wukong much more than he valued himself, put Wukong on a pedestal, and idolized him, making him unreachable. But this could also be applied to Macaque’s relationship with Mk.

Macaque trains Mk, genuinely it seems and uses that opportunity to plant things into the kid’s head. Everything goes well before Macaque ultimately betrays him to go against Wukong, that being his ulterior motive the entire time. He continuously goes after Mk, causing the kid distress one after the other all in an attempt to get back at Wukong. Despite this all, Mk’s still willing to give him another chance in season 3 and Macaque doesn’t know how to handle that. (It is shown, or implied at least in season 3, that Macaque ends up showing legitimate care for Mk. He acknowledges that Mk is a good kid on two separate occasions, telling him that he’s happy there’s still “room for potential”.) He just prefers to keep Mk at a distance, despite the fact he seems to wear the title of Mk’s other mentor with pride.

Changes in self-identity and image

“A very, very powerful demon…”

“Since then you’ve had me teaching you! You’re stronger now!”

We all know this man has a ton of confidence, enough that he actively strokes his own ego every time he opens his mouth. His debut shows us how he sees himself as this strong ancient demon (even if he was referring to himself in the third person.) and he sees Mk as ‘stronger’ because he had Macaque teaching him.

Though in the same vein, he also understands that he isn’t as strong as he likes to brag he is. He still needed Wukong’s power to amplify himself before fighting him, again, (and even lbd acknowledges he needed aid and gives him some of her power after so many failed attempts). Macaque is power hungry and thrives on the taste of being powerful, on the thrill that comes from it, but his body can’t handle that power nor does he actually know how to use any of it. It’s part of why he relies more on his shadows and their sneakiness than he does entirely on his power. He’s an illusionist through and through and nothing more, but he keeps pushing himself for more power because he thinks he can handle it. He genuinely believes he can come out of these fights unscathed and winning and that could be the reason why he continues to go after Wukong.

“As the hero’s light grew, so too did his shadow. And soon the warrior was cast in that shadow. In the darkness, the warrior was forgotten by the hero.”

This comparison he has of himself as the moon shows just how alone he truly sees himself. The moon is something that is depicted as being reliant on the sun to shine despite it being alone and far from the sun’s reach. There’s solace in the way the moon rotates around the earth and stays in its own orbit, keeping itself confined to its single path. Sometimes the moon seeks out the sun’s warmth and they do finally come together, they make an eclipse. But the moon is always the one reaching after the sun and Macaque sees himself as constantly in Wukong’s shadow. He sees himself as someone who reached for Wukong and failed, being left behind in the other’s shadow where he truly belongs. He sees Wukong leaving as him losing his purpose, that he couldn’t keep up anymore and now wasn’t someone Wukong could see as an equal.

Macaque sees himself as a warrior, someone who’s a soldier fighting for themself and their own beliefs. He doesn’t think he’s ever capable of being a hero, or ever changing for the better because he pushed himself into this villain role. He’s accepted that he will always be someone’s villain and so he has never actively tried to change (at least not until Mk pushes him to). Even though he actively acknowledges he has things he should talk about, blatantly telling Mk to his face that if he ever did try talking things out they would be there all day. It’s this black and white thinking that keeps him from being better, that keeps him in this endless cycle of manipulation and gaslighting and hurting that he doesn’t ever try to break because he doesn’t see there being a point. He’d rather do anything and everything to get what he wants because just the thought of him doing something right or something different like working with people and helping them makes him scoff.

With how Macaque carries himself and how he seemingly just throws his life around, lbd’s revival of him probably left him with this constant detachment from reality. He constantly feels empty and incorporeal (which could also be from the fact he is. shadows.) He’s scared of death, the idea of merely going back to being non-existent and in chains causes him such full-body stress especially if it’s brought on forcefully by someone’s hands. He’s paranoid, constantly on edge (specifically throughout season 3) because Lbd has his life dangling in front of him and he’s desperate to take it back. Her whispers and chains poke and prob him, keeping him on high alert so much that it becomes a driving force for him to impulsively choose to stop following her orders. Anything to get rid of her.

Inappropriate intense anger

He is repeatedly shown to lose his temper, lashing out at pretty much everyone no matter what they do. He weaponizes Mk’s insecurities against him in anger, threatens his friends to get them to do what he wants, and pushes people into a corner. He’s quick to anger and irritate, especially if he feels he’s starting to lose control over a situation. (Because he is very much a control freak, constantly needing to keep things around him in his control so he can manipulate tier outcomes how he likes.)

All of his anger seems to be misplaced as well. He was so quick to throw all the blame for the falling out on Wukong but never took the time to think about how he could have been wrong too, considering relationships are two-sided. He let this anger fester and alter his once positive view of Wukong and now he just can’t fix it. Macaque’s angrier at the way Wukong left him, feeling more betrayed about that than at the fact that Wukong killed him.

His anger towards Mk is shrouded in insecurities and doubts about himself and Wukong and he feels wronged somehow seeing how much Wukong cares for Mk. Macaque actively tries forcing his mindset onto Mk, trying to worm his way into making the kid see Wukong differently by using his insecurities and doubts against him. He compares Mk to this fabricated impression he has of Wukong and tries to mold Mk into someone he knows Wukong wouldn’t want.

Macaque’s flashback that he gets briefly as Mk lunges toward him shows just how much he hangs onto the past. How much he hangs onto the emotions from that event and how he projects it onto Mk, seeing Wukong in Mk’s place briefly. It’s that same amplified POV that we hear Macaque talk about and Shadow Play shows just how much it shrouds his impression of Mk. Because truthfully, he doesn’t know much about the kid other than the insecurities Mk rambled out to him and that he’s Wukong’s successor. Macaque filled in the remaining gaps with things he took from his initial impression of Wukong and just assumed the two were the same with how close they are. He has no idea where to put all these emotions so he dumps them onto the laps of others to deal with, or to become the targets of.

Final thoughts

Overall, I think Macaque is the biggest bpd-coded character in all of lmk, it’s just right there. In all our faces. He’s an incredibly emotion-driven person, doing things based on how they make him feel rather than if it’s logical. He’s so shrouded in black and white thinking and in his splitting of Wukong that it keeps just a tight grip on his life and he really does need to go to therapy. He needs to learn to move on and actively be better because if this cycle isn’t broken soon he’ll just continue to hurt not only himself but the people around him. Whether he wants to or not.

I HOPE THIS MAKES SENSE I tried really hard to articulate my thoughts and such but I might have repeated some things here and there. I also am a firm believer that Shadow Play is actively just one big bpd episode. Like I wholeheartedly believe that whole episode was Macaque having an episode and in the midst of it, he decides to mess with Mk, only to stop halfway through because he snaps out of it and realizes that Mk is being hard on himself enough. He willingly brings back up bad memories through a retelling just to achieve some sort of I told you so moment with Mk only for it to backfire on him and just make him feel worse. (while also attracting the attention of lbd)

I think it’s such an important episode to Macaque’s character and what comes of him, especially since it opens the gates to why he decides to do the things he does in season 3. It has so many details in it that show just how unreliable Macaque can be as a narrator, especially when he’s having moments like that. It shows how he’s the selfish one, not Wukong, and how he let something like this mold him into something so unrecognizable from his past self. All because he was filled with rage and betrayal. It’s easier to fight and hate each other than it is for Macaque to apologize for whatever he may have done and amend. It’s easier being the villain to everyone and being hated rather than owning up to your mistakes and trying to be better. He finds comfort in his black and white thinking, finds comfort in how the others hate him, and actively avoids fighting him.

ALSO THIS.

THE PARALLELS !!! It’s a moment where things finally actively dawn on Wukong and he’s suddenly in Macaque’s place, their roles reversed. Macaque being the one who has the upper hand, finding that “power beyond comprehension” and leaving Wukong behind. In reference to their relationship, it could be seen as the moment Macaque finally gets Wukong to understand how he felt when the latter left, how he felt being left behind. He finally makes Wukong feel how he felt, that same desperation at watching the other’s back being turned. But Macaque’s is tainted, being forced onto him, and is actively eating away at his body. It’s reflectively of how Macaque remembers it but it isn’t the exact same.

#🏮#lmk macaque #lego monkie kid #lmk wukong #lmk season 3 spoilers #kinda idk if it counts as spoilers per say ???#lego monkie kid mk #lego monkie kid sun wukong #character analysis #ive been holding this in for months at this point its crazy #ill cry if none of this makes sense deadass #but i wholeheartedly believe macaque has bpd and is very actively not doing anything but spiraling #like hes so manipulative and shrouded by his own emotions that everyone else has to deal with the things /he/ makes himself feel #everything provokes him and irritates him but he doesnt ever try anything productive to fix it other than fight because thats all he knows #it makes me a little upset how much the fandom woobifies him because hes so complex and noone seems to understand that hes not. an angel #hes just as in the wrong as wukong is. if not MORE in the wrong because of all the shit he did mk #i can go on and on about this istg #i also didnt include much from season 3 because it touches more on macaque's dynamic with lbd and i feel like thats a whole different topic #for another time #i hope yall have fun with this #i love shadow play and macaque's debut so much for these exact reasons #they are the reasons i am a borderline macaque truther #also because im a fictive but #and macaque is a little TOO much like me #but yeah #TAKE THIS OUT OF MY HANDS #six eared macaque #lego monkie kid macaque #long post #bpd

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nejackdaw · 10 months

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Now That You've Lost Tomorrow (is yesterday still a friend?)

4.2k words of the Celann backstory in my head

Under the cut for length; not NSFW. Also leave my Jimminy Cricket ass alone, I was thinking about Disney narrators when I started this lmao. It wasn't supposed to be an actual piece send help

Ahem. (Tw animal death) (tw gore)

Born in the Northmoor of Breton High Rock, Celann aged to be a fine man. With a lively, happy home, he was a handsome, good natured jokester with a penchant for bringing smiles wherever he went. Be it through mischief at home, exaggerated peacocking (resulting in clumsy accidents) in front of his beloved fiancee, charitable work through the town, or the song on his lips, he was an easygoing presence that had endeared himself to the people around him. Life was good and grand: he had an easy, do nothing guard job in a happy little town to bring in coin, plans to settle down and start a family, and wanted for nothing between it all. But things started to change when his elder sister prepared to set off on her apprenticeship–dark winds blew in that he, and all of them, would never recover from.

It was an adjustment for everyone with Jehanne recently absent; she'd been gone only a week, but the absence of fabric scraps and 'come look at this for me's, the messily kept tomes and quills that dripped ink, the prospect of not hearing another "you're being ridiculous, it's been weeks! Come join us for dinner!" and her high pitched, victorious cackles as she raced away, knowing she'd magically cleared up everyone's schedules by asking–she'd only been gone a week, but it felt an awfully lot longer than that. Celann kept up with his guard work in her absence and Charlotte, ever interested in his sister's seamstress and design work, had taken up the hobby when she wasn't keeping the ledger at Garnier's, insisting someone had to be leaving fabric in a house somewhere in Jehanne's absence–to balance things out, obviously, as all good magic is supposed to be.

Time passed this way for another week or so as everyone tried to reassure themselves that everything was fine; it was a large change, but they'd known for months, and they'll settle into this new normal soon and everything would be fine. But suddenly news came whispering through the streets of strange shadows passing by windows at night, shadows with no one to cast them, and soon enough the guards were being asked to look out for missing pets, small cats and birds that must have gotten loose.

Small cats and birds that were found far from their homes and butchered, torn apart but not eaten.

An uneasiness settled over the town as more and more of the creatures turned up, and "killer" was on everyone's lips. After a few weeks of disappearances and gory resurfaces, they began tapering off until they stopped entirely. Like any predator: from small prey to large–the guards instructed woodsmen and hunters, trappers and fur traders to keep an eye out in the woods for anything that didn't look like an animal had gotten to it first. It took only two days after the order was given for a horrified hunter to return with news of a torn, gaunt elk carcass, black with rot around the edges of the worst wounds. Next it was a boar, then a doe–then nothing once again.

Celann was tasked with joining patrols, increased in the wake of the animal attacks until investigators, who so far had found no leads towards what everyone assumed to be a fledgling serial killer, could find some hint as to what had been happening. Everyone waited anxiously for the inevitable first victim.

It came only a month after the shadow appeared.

Following loud, panicked shouts, Celann stumbled into an alleyway to find something hardly recognizable as human. It was pale, even for a corpse, and gaunt like the beasts had been–ripped apart and stained black at the edges, wounds rotting prematurely. He covered his mouth and looked away as he desperately fought against the thick, burning bile at the back of his throat, side stepping into a puddle of dried blood to let a more senior guard pass by.

When everything had been documented, after the corpse had been covered and the area sealed off–more for the townspeople's sake than the scene's–and they were given permission to leave, Celann headed immediately to the blacksmith, grateful for the harsh, painful way the smell and smoke of the forge cleaned the blood and rot from his lungs. He left with three sturdy daggers, weapons he grimly pressed into his family's hands as he made them swear to carry it with them. The protests died on all their lips when they saw the fear in his eyes, each taking it with the same gravity Celann presented it with and solemnly promising they would.

After only three days, there was another disappearance; another corpse, butchered and rotting unnaturally. He'd never possessed the same gift for magic most of his people did, but Celann knew enough–knew to fear the third and what it would bring, because there was no way this terror was only a man and threes were either a blessing or a curse. In the end, it was both.

When he stumbled on the third victim, it hardly occured to him that the man had anything at all to do with the last horrifying, supernatural month. He wasn't torn open like everything before, the ground wasn't coated in blood and viscera. He looked almost like someone who'd been lucky and gone in his sleep somehow–but when Celann knelt down to check if he was alive, he startled to see familiar jewelry and recognized the gaunt corpse of the book seller from around the block. His wedding band sat at an angle around a finger too small for the old, tarnished metal, and when Celann reached for his wrist to get a better look he touched something slimy and cold.

He distantly registered someone from the patrol calling out his name as he stared down at the red on his fingers, a steadily growing urge filling him with every beat of his heart to smear it off on the rough stones beneath him until his own blood ran hot and quick and erased the feeling forever. He clenched his fist instead–looked over at the boots beside him and pretended he hadn't just terrified himself as a second guard knelt with him to inspect the body.

It was Simon who found the most important thing the body had to tell them; Celann was busy wiping the blood off on his trousers and trying to get his mind working right again. A frantic tap on his shoulder got his attention and he looked up into Simon's wide, terrified eyes before slowly turning his head to see what he'd found. The gloved hand gripping the corpse's jaw slowly retreated, shaking, and Celann looked down to see two frighteningly neat holes at the side of the neck.

They shared a long, quiet look before Celann reached out again for the merchant's hand, praying desperately he didn't dig his fingers into disgustingly smooth, exposed flesh again as he avoided gripping the wrist to turn it around. Torn and bloodied, but the black edges were smaller this time. Cleaner, neater, less noticable.

They raced away burdened with news of a vampire preying on the town, searching desperately for the commander and whatever investigators they could find.

/-/~=~/-/~=~/-/~=~/-/~=~/-/~=~/-/

The city was placed under curfew immediately after the news arrived, and patrols were focused for the dark and evening hours. Everyone was required inside and with at least one companion; a vampire could easily overpower a pair, but the hope was that, with no lone targets, it would resent the effort it would take to target anyone else. Guards were similarly paired and ordered not to stray from one another–the only souls out in the night needed to be vigilant. Celann thought about the daggers he'd bought his family, thought about Charlotte taking Jehanne's room at home without him there in the night to share their bed. He wondered what good those knives would be, what good his sword would do him, if the beast got insistent.

Heavy tension hung over the town for weeks after the news arrived. Curtains were drawn and lights were left burning outside as people hoped the creature would pass them by. Every sound was investigated.

After a week, after two, after a month… there was nothing. No pets, no woodland beasts, no disappearances.

The dread started to lighten as time passed, and after four weeks of no new attacks, the townsfolk had, to a degree, returned to life as normal. They were still sure to make it home before night properly fell, still kept a light on, but as the days went by there seemed to be a collective feeling that it had all been a nightmare, some trick of Vaermina.

Celann noted three absences with every pass through the town.

Nightmares didn't claim lives, and he worried at how quickly everyone let themselves believe any danger had passed. The bookshop was closed for a week, what with the owner being dead; he and Lotte liked to buy each other occasional gifts from there, and the darkness in the windows–always warmly lit and welcoming before–never failed to stir a sense of dread in him.

But then a second month was passing without any sort of attack, patrols returned to normal, and even Celann let himself relax. With how often the beast had attacked before, there was no way it would sit and wait for months. The town had been on alert and anything it would have hunted locked inside, but even the forests nearby had been spared. It had surely moved on at this point to easier prey, or either fled in order to avoid detection, he reasoned.

That reasoning was why he accepted the promotion offered to him: an easy, quiet job out at the watchtower, not too far from town and coming with a pay increase; he'd be replacing someone who quit, understandably, in light of the vampire attacks while they had been happening. The new station was a bit of a trek from the gates, at the edge of the forest, but the road was usually quiet enough and the pay was enticing so he agreed. Fresh air, new faces–it sounded like a nice change of scenery, anyway.

It took a few mornings–early, dark, quiet–to adjust to all the rustling, and Perrette teased him for it, but they got on well and she explained their duties simply and easily. They arrive at midnight and they're relieved around breakfast, and spend their downtime chatting or pretending they weren't falling back asleep. Celann never bothered her when she did, and she returned the favor when he was half asleep, half awake, never quite able to properly sleep in the tower; it turns out to be a good thing he couldn't.

It was early, a week or so after he'd started, and he was tired; he'd been resting with his head pillowed on his arms at his desk, lost in that dark, semi conscious haze. There wasn't anyone out at this hour, with the moon still so high, and he paid no mind when he hadn't heard Perrette for what should have been a suspiciously long time. She was probably playing cards and he was just resting, after all, not falling asleep like his coworker did. If anything popped up they could handle it.

Just resting is why one eye opened blearily at a sound outside, a sound Celann had only half heard and had already forgotten by the time he was looking at candlelit paperwork. He kept it open a bit longer, listening for any other sounds, then let his eyes close again, shifting in his seat to get comfortable. Nothing, just the dark and the quiet–but as the seconds passed something settled heavy in his chest, had suspicion creeping into his head, and he sat up to look around.

Nothing. Just the dark and the quiet. He slowly stood from his chair and breathed deep, waking himself up as he glanced around the inside of the watchtower. Perrette wasn't at the window, there was no humming or the sound of cards, like he'd expected. The deck was, however, still out on the windowsill, game partially through, and when he moved closer he spotted a few that had blown outside. A familiar dread settled over him as he looked down at them, caught in flower stems and other growth that kept them from blowing farther away.

The moon was still high. Perrette was not here. She was not with the cards she carried in a little box as a gift from her lover, hand drawn with curling letters on the back. It was quiet. It was… unnaturally still, Celann realized. He stared out through the window at the road as his hand moved to the hilt of his sword. He listened. Something moved in the undergrowth behind the station and he quietly crept his way to the–open–back door.

A black hare greeted him at the threshold, a bloody, mangled carcass with its white ribs exposed to the moonlight. The smell of rot hit him and his face twisted; his sword scraped against the sheath as he drew it.

Vampire.

Celann didn't know where Perrette was, what had happened to her, but he doubted the beast would leave a display if it wasn't waiting. It hadn't left. He stared out into the woods and swallowed, listening and hearing nothing. Nothing. His heart beat a terrified rhythm behind his ribs as he stepped outside, stepping carefully over the carcass and into the night, heading hesitantly for the woodline.

He'd hardly stepped through, heel snapping dead leaves and trampling plants–sound, something BURSTING forward, a scream–

He managed to put an arm between them, elbow digging into their chest, pain, hot, claws and yellow eyes. His heel slid back in the dirt as the creature strained against him, screaming and snarling and gnashing bloody teeth inches from his face. The hot smell of blood and decay hit him in the face and suddenly there was a fist in his hair, pulling painfully and jerking his head to the side–it vanished as soon as it appeared and Celann watched the vampire stumble back, face twisted in betrayal.

His own twisted to mirror it as he stared at the disfigured visage of his sister.

Jehanne.

She was clutching one of her hands as if injured, and he noticed a small, circular brand pressed into the heel of her palm. The shape of his earring, a small piece of silver resting by his jaw.

Those two moments stretched into forever then minutes suddenly blurred–claws, pain, BEGGING, being thrown, his shoulders slamming into a tree.

Celann blinked blood from his eyes and raised himself onto a shaking arm, catching his breath as he reached for his sword. He noticed she'd torn through his sleeves; the cloth was dark and sticky with blood, and he could feel the edge of his mouth throbbing, the skin around his lips torn open with a nasty downward swing of her claws. Jehanne was pacing agitatedly, glaring down at him and spitting to herself as he pushed himself to sit in the undergrowth. His head was throbbing dizzyingly, shoulders on fire from the impact, and he could feel something hot and wet snaking its way through the short hairs at the back of his neck.

Celann staggered to his feet, leaning against the tree for support, and let out a shuddering breath as he held his sword in front of him. Trying to evaluate.

She wasn't uninjured herself, not that it did him any good; he'd mangled one of her wrists and she'd still thrown him like a doll. He'd cut and sliced and stabbed and she was standing all the same, and they shared a mutual look of despair. Some mix of emotions flashed across her face, faintly illuminated by what moonlight breached the canopy, bright eyes wide as her lips were parting and she was clawing at her face, fangs glistening, then– "But we're family!" she wailed

The world went quiet.

Realization hit him, then. Cold blood. The world became the woman in front of him. He couldn't let her leave. Horror. Couldn't let her live. Agony. She'd kill them all. Kill her first.

He wondered how many times his sister must have crept past their windows, how many nights she must have watched him from the forest. Family. She'd kill him if it meant turning him, kill them all if he couldn't stop her.

Jehanne took a step forward and spread her arms invitingly, one wrist hanging at a sickening angle. Another step when he didn't immediately move, a sweet smile on her face, then lunged–steel and blood and pain and screams. He couldn't hesitate, couldn't go easy anymore. Blood flew from his blade as he drove it into her heart–vampires need to be stabbed in the heart–once, twice, a third time. He staggered back and tensed, waiting for her to somehow still be moving, dizzy with blood loss and buzzing with adrenaline.

He distantly watched her head slump against the ground, face half pressed into the dirt; glowing yellow eyes went dim and returned to a familiar brown. He watched, paradoxically, as she regained some color, despite being dead. Dead. He looked at glassy eyes and felt far away. Trees and green growth and blood splatters came back into view, but it was someone else's view, someone else's eyes. They laughed, whoever it was, desperate and manic, and dropped his sword as he stared at his sister's corpse. Something was screaming about it, somewhere inside him, but it was far away and muffled, a mile away.

Celann stumbled on suddenly weak legs towards the nearest tree and let himself collapse to the ground against it, staring at her face until it blurred. Everything blended together, and all he knew was that he was cold. He distantly remembered he was bleeding, but the thought vanished almost instantly into the gentle fog that was clouding his mind. He shivered, he thinks, and then thinks nothing else as he sits on the forest floor beneath the moon for hours.

He doesn't register Perrette stumbling out of the watchtower, only partially realizing she was yelling at him at all, even as she knelt beside him. He came back to himself when someone was snapping incessantly in his face, when irritation managed to stir him into some faint awareness. Simon was kneeling in front of him, eyes wide with fear as he gestured at the people around him. They descended upon him, quiet and gentle as they hauled him to his feet, and as he was half dragged, half helped back to town, all Celann really noticed was that it was morning. The sky was a pale, misty yellow–sunrise. Morning. The night was over. The night was over but he would live with what happened in the dark forever.

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He had nightmares every time he managed to fall asleep, shepherded into the temple to be healed and watched over. Breathing was difficult and he assumed he was dying; he was only a little concerned at how okay with that he was. A stranger visited him on the third day after the Incident and the priestesses allowed her to feed him something from a vial, some liquid miracle that ended the worst of the night terrors and let him breathe easy.

There had been a newly made vampire den nearby, she explained when he woke again, and Jehanne had likely been taken the day she stepped out onto the road. Her voice was factual as she informed the temple they'd all been taken care of, but there was sympathy on her face as she looked down at the shadows under his half vacant eyes. She hunted vampires–and other deadra–she'd said as she left; there was something he didn't like in her tone, something knowing, as she closed the door behind her and told him she'd be staying in town for a month or two.

He was sent back home later that afternoon, back to he and Charlotte's house, but everything felt… strange. He felt like he was intruding on his own space, in his own house, in his own bed. Lotte was being patient, but the pain in her eyes when she looked at him sent a spike through his heart. Blood. Breaking bones. He supposed he deserved it after what he'd done, though even he could tell she very genuinely didn't think less of him for it. But she handled him gently and he missed her smiles, missed making her laugh. That solemn look didn't belong in her eyes.

His parents visited twice, to make sure he was healing alright, but there was a distance between them that had never been there. They'd raised Jehanne for 26 years, their daughter, you killed our daughter, what kind of man kills his own sister? It was never said, of course, but he could see it in the tension on their faces and the stiff way they held themselves near him.

They declined both times to stay for dinner.

Celann couldn't move on. His family thought he was a murderer, his fiancee was no longer living with the man she'd gotten engaged to. Something in bim broke when he thought about it, that they were supposed to be married in a few months. He'd been over the moon about it, wouldn't stop talking about it to anyone who listened, even if they weren't really, but the hush that had fallen over the house as Charlotte gave him the space he'd started needing felt like an ill omen.

Two months passed of feeling like an outsider in his own life and he was saying goodbye to her. She refused to break off their engagement, said he felt guilty and was being stupid, and as he tried to promise not to darken her door again she told him for better or for worse came before the wedding vows and if he didn't at least write to her on his trip with this mystery woman she'd find him and drag him back home like a runaway boy.

It… hadn't been what he'd planned on. He hadn't planned on returning or writing at all, had planned on removing himself entirely, no longer the man she'd intended to marry and pained at how she was caring for him. He hadn't told her about meeting the woman from the temple, either–but people talked and Lotte was good at listening, and he wasn't as surprised as he could have been. He had mixed feelings about the indefinite engagement, but if it was what she wanted he'd let her have it, like she was letting him leave because he needed to. They looked after each other like that.

Perrette, on her part, when he found her at breakfast, immediately told him through a mouthful of jam and toast where the woman from the temple was before standing and pulling him into a hug. She pressed a small wooden box and a dagger into his hands before wishing him well and telling him to hurry, because the stranger had been packing her things last she saw and getting ready to leave.

It turns out she had left, hours ago, but Celann found her waiting expectantly outside the gate just off the road. She was sitting with her own breakfast with a second placement set up for him, and he once again didn't like the knowing look in her eyes as he sat down. She explained, eventually, that she was with the Vigil of Stendarr, and had been sent with two others to investigate rumors of vampires in the area. Jehanne had been an opportune victim, out alone on the road so early in the morning; the vampire had been trying to start a clan and needed bodies to fill the seats.

He'd almost been one of them. It was a matter of hours, apparently.

Again, she assured him they were all dead and asked if he intended to join her and her companions on the road–if he had seen what chaos and danger creatures like vampires pose and wanted to take up arms against them. He didn't answer, and she didn't demand he give one; they ate together in silence again and she didn't comment on the way he'd glance back at the gate every now and then. The guard on duty would give a little wave each time, a sad look on his face, and so Celann looked less and less until he didn't look again at all. He was leaving, after all; something deep in him was different, had shaken him out of the life he'd had, and he was moving on. There wasn't room for whatever he was in the space he'd made for himself anymore.

A few nights later he would untie the ribbon around that little box Perrette had given him, far away from town, and open it to find a clumsily hand drawn set of cards with little messages penned in her handwriting on the back. He turned the fool around to see a scribbled portrait of himself amongst the scrawled decoration; the back of every queen was a rough sketch of Charlotte. He put them gently back in the box, retied the ribbon, and ignored the look Freyja gave him as he slipped it back into his bag.

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, again, without a body next to him.

"For those who cherish memories of loved ones, their compassion often conceals the beast. Our compassion compels us to destroy it."

#skyrim #celann #dawnguard #writing #i really need a personal writing tag hmm #also yeah i was thinking about like. disney narrators. when the camera is showing the village or whatever #idk something new #anyway if basically everyone in skyrim is a man im making everyone in celanns backstory a woman. i make the rules #also dw about the engagement im a polyship celann truther #whos going to stop me #my last dnd character was named moore and i thought moore/less (pre/post canpaign trauma) was such a funny joke #celann went from moore to less real fast #anyway i think this was in my docs for like two months and then i wrote almost the entire thing in two days bc ao3 was down #so. my hand was forced #also im just dropping in the tags that if celann hadnt gone off on a murder journey hed have been kinda okay #but where does that leave us #no sad little man in fort dawnguard #i killed someone > im a killer > killers can only kill > i killed someone #etc its a vicious spiral #k one last extra before i forget but gunmars line at the end is what slammed the last piece of the backstory puzzle together #and the linked song is the title source #i think that covers it all #ive obsessed over every detail of this post long enough im hitting post aldnaonskw

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