One of the light-touch worldbuilding/storytelling/dramatic irony moments I really enjoy in Fallout: New Vegas is everything to do with Aurelius of Phoenix, the Legion Slavemaster operating Cottonwood Cove. Nested bit here, right? On first glance it seems like psuedo-Latin gibberish, something grandiose but divorced from meaning, like a lot of the Legion guys- but then you do the double take and realize it's a cognomen, a nickname Romans would receive based on great achievements or conquests-e.g. Scipio Africanus- and that implicitly this is the guy who helped sack the actual former city of Phoenix in Arizona. Stealth Future-imperfect trope, disguised at first glance because "Phoenix" is already a kind of grandiose mythologic-sounding word. And when you realize that, right, it's suddenly very funny, for the same basic reason The Republic of Dave is funny- grandiose terminology juxtaposed with a mundane name from the world we recognize. If it were Aurelius of Boise, Aurelius of Cincinnati, right, there are cities you could use in the pairing that would cause it to parse as much more of an explicit gag. So now it's silly in the way everything about the Legion is silly. But then it wraps back around to actually kind of unnerving, because first off, basically it's an offhand implication of something very nasty having gone down in Phoenix, A City From Real Life That We Recognize, in order for him to have gotten a whole Cognomen out of it. And second, it's obviously not a coincidence that his name doesn't sound dumb. Caesar isn't gonna let a subordinate quote-unquote "earn" a cognomen unless it's useful to him, unless it enhances the brand somehow, and having a guy named "Aurelius of Phoenix" walking around, well, it does do that! It feels calculated. It's not the kind of name that's downstream of cultural decay and half-remembered information. It's another example of how Caesar micromanages his slave army down to their very names, and how he lifts random superficial elements of Roman culture on an ad-hoc basis without integrating any of it on a deeper level. A lot going on, with this one guy's goofy name!
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Wait, did you put a photo of Vil and Neige as kids in Eric’s office??
oh good, I was afraid that wasn't going to read properly and people would just be like "what is this supposed to be". :') but yeah! I like to think Eric was pretty fond of Neige as a kid! single dad sees orphan child approximately the same age as his own son and goes "hmm. okay, you guys are going to be friends now." (this did not go as well as he'd hoped.)
(also I do love how it's kind of a running joke that everyone loves Neige except for Vil, who's standing over in the corner and just seething with furious irrational hatred. someday maybe he'll find someone who doesn't think Neige is the best thing since cinnamon rolls.)
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something bad happened to you, and you died, and you came back wrong.
not wrong all the way. the little ways. you forget important dates, stopped going out with friends. it's harder to make you smile. you're apathetic towards things you used to love, afraid of places you used to go to cheer up. quieter. flinching. different.
you came back for love. you're still here for love. what pulled you back was a brightness so loud that even death couldn't outshout it. death heard the call and smiled at you and said okay. go home. somebody is waiting for you.
but you came back different. like lot's wife; you've turned into salt. you used to chirp through life in hops and skips; but now you lose skin just standing up. you have to move slower, skimming across this world without-touching-it. most things feel dull - until they're suddenly all-too-much. life, and being alive just rushes up and over you and you get hopelessly crushed.
you try to explain it to them: it is ugly, but this is what you are, now. the huge golden hoop of your halo now a little bronze ring. you are still watering your plants and wearing the same clothes. after all, you worked hard to come home. this life; so odd and off-color, now that you are wrong.
but they waited for you - it's just that they wanted the "you" that happened before this. the "you" that could sing in the show and hug people tight and look at a blade without breaking down to cry. the you with a smile in pictures. god, holyshit, it's like looking at a completely different person, isn't it. that other-you; the one they actually wanted.
you are the consolation prize. you are the body that forgot the ghost. you are the memory of the bad thing, and the death after; like you are wearing that memory as a banner. you are a fragment, an assembly. simulacrum. you don't make eye contact in mirrors, afraid the light will glance off and your true nature will flash back at you.
you hear them talk about it in their hushed, desperate whispers. sometimes they even admit it to your face; harsh and violent, acid thrown at christmas dinner. god, can you just fucking be normal again. you do not remember what normal is. you had to climb so far to get back here; you are far too exhausted. you want to open the glass door of your heart and show all the gears. can you help resolve whatever got messed up?
you try so, so hard. you came back for them. because you believed they would love you, even when you were so horribly broken. because you believed they would be patient. because you believed unconditional meant "without exception." you cannot do things the same way. you just get tired too quickly these days.
you want to put them on a couch and pour them the tea with hands that shake more than they remember. you want to line them up and draw them a map of where you have had to wander. you want to show every bruise in a backsplash; the little helpless ant of your soul carrying all that weight, over and over. you want to say: yes! it is different! but i did it for love!
you want to say: "i'm not the same, but i'm yours and i'm here. can that be enough?"
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The Lamb is malicious in a funny way and the Goat is funny in a malicious way. No, I will not elaborate.
Anyway, everyone give thanks to the Lamb for interrupting what was sure to be a very boring and patronizing PSA from their grouchy cat hubby. Truly, they are doing God's work. Granted, the Lamb canonically is God now, so, uh. Mostly they're just doing their own work.
Speaking of their grouchy cat hubby, yes this is absolutely still Narilamb, Narinder is 100% into his goofy-ass spouse always no matter what and we all know it, he just wasn't expecting his brand new adopted kid to share the same single goofy-ass brain cell as the Lamb. :)
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law and luffy are just like. what if I saw you at the peak of your miracle working competence, and then the literal next time I saw you it was at your most isolated and broken. and what if that moment of seeing you alone and grieving and terrified was the moment where I decided you were someone worth keeping, someone who I personally cared about and wanted around. how does that not make you wanna lose your fucking mind.
and then the other thing on top of that which always gets me is the way that you can just so clearly see that neither of them has any idea how to fit this relationship into any preexisting context - Luffy calls him part of his crew, but law is the captain of his own crew and would clearly die before giving that up; law calls them allies but it is glaringly obvious that they care about each other in a way that goes beyond that. of course Luffy is generally a lot less bothered about this than law, who routinely wants to put his own head through a wall about it, but it’s just such a fun layer to their dynamic I think.
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