#philosophical discussion at swordpoint

[norbah]

The Plover and the Crocodile

A continuation of this other story: 

http:// norbah. tumblr. com/ post / 182333442252/ another-grima-piece-fgrima-msummoner

Just something that came to mind while thinking about Grima. Didn’t mean for it to get this broody and philosophical. Hope you like it anyway. Any thoughts would be INCREDIBLY appreciated. Thank you!

------------------------

Lucina's eyes were trained on the sprawled form of the Fell Dragon as she approached it, but her eyes flickered upwards to its horns, one of which was currently serving as a perch for a lone human. He was kneeling dangerously close to its edge, hands busy wringing a mop's head over a bucket. He was either extremely confident in his own balance, or trusted the horrid beast beneath him not to move too brusquely. A distressing idea, in Lucina's head. That anyone could trust that treacherous snake... how ridiculous. Her grip tightened over her blade's hilt, bolstering her confidence by its presence alone.

"Move aside, Summoner," Lucina said as she stepped forward, Falchion in hand. "I would not want you caught in battle."

The Summoner blinked in surprise and looked up from where he had been working, already mopping the horn's surface in the time Lucina had been musing. He looked down at her, confusion in his eyes, before panic bloomed in his expression and he twisted around, as if looking for someone.

"What are you doing?" Lucina asked, not expecting this particular reaction. It was with no small amount of dread that she noticed Grima's eyes had opened, and now regarded her, unreadable and cold.

"You said a fight was coming," the Summoner called back down, unaware of the staredown that had been initiated. "I assumed the Emblian army had broken through!"

"Wh-What?" Lucina broke eye contact with the Fell Dragon, stunned. "No! I meant Grima! Move aside so I may slay Grima!"

"Oh. I guess that makes sense." The Summoner seemed calm now. He turned to face Lucina, but instead of hopping down from the horn, he sat down on its edge, legs dangling off, and looking down at her with a calm expression on his face. 

"No. No, I don't think I will."

"What?" Lucina was genuinely bewildered. "But can't you see?! This must be done, Summ-!"

"Plover, please!" He called down before she could finish. "Call me Plover!"

Lucina couldn't help but flush. The Plegians (Tharja, Henry, and Aversa) had taken to affectionately calling him "the plover" once they'd noticed his devotion to the Fell Dragon's hygiene. Henry had explained to the more curious Heroes that they were referencing a small bird from Plegia, which seemed to enjoy a unique relationship with the vicious crocodiles in their rivers. It would clean the reptiles' teeth, pecking away at anything caught in them, and the normally voracious crocodile refrained from closing its jaws around them. Over time, "the plover" had simply become a nickname, "Plover". It didn't help that very few Heroes had actually bothered to ask his name. Or that the nickname seemed to fit him better than any name could. It was a bit embarrassing that he had found out.

"So where's this coming from?" The Summ- no, Plover, asked Lucina from all the way atop Grima's horn. It spoke to how much time he spent on the dragon that he seemed to know which volume would carry best to the ground. He didn't sound like he was shouting.

"It has killed hundreds! Thousands! It needs to be stopped! To be killed before it can unleash destruction here in Askr! Please, P-Plover," she cursed internally as she stumbled over the informal form of address for the tactician of the Order of Heroes, "let me fulfill my purpose!"

He seemed to think for a moment. Lucina caught Grima's eyes again, and started shaking as they fixed on her again. The beast hadn't moved once, and its eyes held no aggression, but... was Lucina imagining it, or was there mockery in those three hellish red spheres?

"She," Plover suddenly called out, breaking the spell over Lucina.

"Wh-What?" the future Exalt could only ask. And it was frustrating to realize that this whole time, that had been her biggest reaction. Surprise. Not decisive action.

"She," Plover repeated. "You keep calling Grima 'it', but she's, well, a she."

"I... How is that relevant?!" Lucina felt so, so frustrated. Even dealing with the other versions of herself didn't vex her like this.

"It's not," the Summoner admitted. "But I felt it was important."  For the first time, Grima's eyes looked away from Lucina and fixed on the Summoner, and Lucina could never have imagined they could look so soft, so gentle. The great dragon rumbled loudly, shaking the earth around them moderately. The Summoner held to Grima's horn with almost casual ease, not minding the razor-sharp edge of the bony appendage. Lucina stumbled a little, but kept her balance, ready to dodge an attack, until she realized...

"Wait," she thought. "Is Grima purring?!"

"In any case, I'm sorry, but I have to deny your request, Lucina," Plover went on, and to his credit, he did look apologetic. "Unless you can answer one simple question."

"Ask your question, then," Lucina declared, confident once again. If this was all that stood between her and Grima's defeat, then she would answer any question unfalteringly. Whatever was required of her. 

"Here goes, then," he said, and leaned forward, as if to look at Lucina even more closely. Grima was quiet once more, and its- her eyes, Lucina grudgingly granted, once more only on her. 

"How many Plegians?"

"I-I'm sorry?" Lucina asked, her confidence wavering only a little. What kind of question was this? The Summoner's idea of a joke?

"I should have elaborated," Plover murmured, but the silence was such after Grima's minor earthquake that Lucina heard him, even if vaguely. "Here it goes again: 

"How many Plegians have died to that sword?" he asked, pointing at Falchion. 

"I haven't-" Lucina began, not quite liking where this was going.

"And just to be clear," he went on, "I don't just mean at your hands. At your father's too. And his father's. And that one's important," he said with a rather pointed look. "I have heard he waged a rather bloody war on Plegia in his time. How many dead, do you think?"

"That was different!" Lucina called up, but a pit in her stomach had opened up at the mention of her grandfather. There was no denying that his actions had led in the long term to Validar's possession of the Plegian throne. Emmeryn had spent her life trying to undo the hatred and resentment born from his brutal actions. 

"It was?" Plover seemed surprised. "I don't see a lot of ways how that could be."

"Of course you don't!" Lucina yelled, getting angry now at his flippancy. "You tend to Grima! You serve it-"

"Her."

"-almost like you worship it!" She went on, not hearing his firm correction. "Almost like you're-" and a thought occurred to her now. A sobering thought that horrified her, but one she chastised herself for not thinking before.

"Like you're Grimleal..." Lucina whispered, horror-struck. It made sense, she realized. His slavish devotion to Grima's comfort and appearance. His claims of Grima's innocence, his insinuations that the Ylissean royal family were as bad... It all pointed to-

"Okay, now I know you've been hitting Gray's Duma Moss a little too hard," Plover called down, snapping her out of her spiral. 

"... What?!" She spluttered out after a few seconds of shocked silence, mortified. Was he implying that she used substances?! 

"Word to the wise," he kept going, oblivious to her distress, "don't keep going after the third toke! It builds up!"

"Stop shouting that!" She hissed, red in the face and glancing behind her to make sure nobody was hearing this. If this rumor ever got back to her father...!

Grima's throat rumbled again, this time in quick succession and with higher intensity, and Lucina went scarlet in the face, in both rage and mortification, when she realized the Fell Dragon was laughing at her embarrasment. 

That brought her back to the present situation, and seemed to do the same for the Summoner, even if he still had a smile on his face.

"No, I'm not Grimleal," he said gently. "I don't worship her, any more than you worship..." his brow furrowed.

"Gerome?" He asked. She blinked, confused. "Inigo?" He tried again. "Severa? Brady? Laurent? Robin? Kje-" he stopped when he saw her go red one earlier, and blinked in honest surprise. "Robin, huh? Way to break the bro code on that one..." he murmured. Grima snorted as well, amused in some way by this knowledge. Lucina could only growl at the two of them.

"Well, I don't worship her. Same way you don't worship Robin, and he doesn't worship you. Not literally, anyway," he finished. Now it was Lucina's turn to snort in derision. How ridiculous.

"How can what Robin and I share be anything like what you and Grima have? They are different bonds in every way, are they not?" She asked, mentally comparing the two in front of her to a twisted version of what Robin and her father shared. Trust and camaraderie beyond what regular people shared. That, at least, she could respect. Perhaps she could understand now why he seemed so hellbent on-

Aaaaaaand he was blushing bright scarlet now. And avoiding eye contact with her. Things certainly couldn't get more awkward, Lucina thought. 

Until she noticed Grima staring directly at her. And as soon as Lucina made eye contact, its massive, bony, scaly eyebrows rose, then fell. Once. And again. And again. 

Desperately trying to ignore the fact that Grima had just waggled its eyebrows at her (and hoo boy, would that one require some therapy to get past), Lucina latched on to the last piece of rational discussion she could remember hearing, and tried to bring this whole thing back to Ylisse. Zenith. Wherever!

"But why compare Falchion to i- to her?" She amended, seeing the testy look on Plover's face. Once that faded, however, he looked relieved to be back on track. He shrugged again.

"Just wanted to point out that if we were to measure something's malice by how many it has slain, then your blade is pretty evil in its own right."

"That was a war. It was different," Lucina argued. 

"Does that make their deaths any more just? I'm fairly sure many of those soldiers also thought they were doing the right thing. I doubt that even half of them were zealots at all, either."

"And what of her?" Lucina asked, anger creeping back into her voice as she pointed at Grima. "What of the many slain by her? The deaths to come if she were to be left unchecked?!" 

"Just as terrible and unjust," Plover said agreeably. Lucina paused. She'd expected him to argue against this. To claim Grima was innocent of any wrongdoing. The dragon herself held Lucina's gaze, almost defiantly. 

"Everybody she killed," he kept going slowly, picking his words with care, "was a life taken. And it was as unfair as the ones taken by Ylisse. The ones taken by Falchion. But it is as you said. It was war. You can't win a war without enemy casualties. The world isn't so nice. Hell, we're at war right now." 

"But just as Ylisse fought their war against Plegia and against Valm, and as you fought yours against fate," he went on, "she was fighting her own war." 

"Against who?" Lucina demanded. Plover grimaced and scratched the back of his head. He seemed almost unsure of his next words.

"Against humanity," he said, glancing away. "Against people who might seek to use her, to hurt her."

"I chose," Grima's voice hissed out from between her jaws, vast and grotesque, sibilant as the wind in a seaside cave. Lucina could feel every bone in her body vibrate as the gravelly sound washed over her, and only through great force of will did she resist the urge to lift Falchion before her, "to wage my war on all of mankind. Let none who might have sought my pain or my service survive. If leaving naught but the bones and ash of the human race was what it took for my survival... then so be it."

"But... But that's insane!" Lucina argued, her voice shaking after Grima's first words in the discussion. "To eliminate all humans over the potential of one seeking to use or destroy you..." 

Plover drew in a deep breath, and Lucina knew from the pain in his eyes that he did not like saying what came next.

"As insane as trying to kill your husband over the chance he might be an unwitting enemy agent."

Lucina's breath caught in her throat, and for an instant she saw red. This man, this non-combatant, this traitorous filth who knew nothing of war was daring to compare her to Grima?!

But... he wasn't entirely wrong, was he? She had turned on Robin. She wasn't able to go through with it, even after he spread his arms wide with a smile and said to go ahead, that his life was hers. But she had turned on him nonetheless.

And she thought of her original timeline. Of Grima's future. When everything in Ylisse, Plegia, and Regna Ferox seemed to be out for her blood. When only her friends and family remained at her side. When the whole world was hellbent on her destruction. How close had she come to despairing then? 

She'd been willing to do anything to fix that, hadn't she? To destroy her enemy And save those she loved, she'd been willing to bypass time in its entirety. But if she'd had world-ending power at her disposal and no loved ones to save... could she really say with any certainty she'd have been that much different?

With a heavy, heavy sigh, Lucina sheathed Falchion. She turned to leave, but Plover's voice stopped her.

"You never did answer the question, you know," he said. But it was quiet, almost gentle. Lucina's fingers found Falchion's hilt again. But instead of the usual comfort and strength its presence brought her, the sword felt heavy with questions she'd never have posed before. To herself or to others. 

How many Plegians? No. That wasn’t the true question. How many people? Plegians, Valmese, Alteans and people of Gra. Humans, Manaketes, and Beastfolk. How many had met their end on its blade?

"Far too many," she finally said, her voice and heart as heavy as the sword at her side. "And yet... as many as were needed," she finished her thought, and felt both revulsion and disgust with herself for even saying it. Because even among the heroes who had killed because they had to, because it was the only way to stop disaster from ending even more lives, death stained the blade. Of innocents in their own way. Her father had told her of the Plegian general Mustafa, for one. And more than that, the shadow of her grandfather darkened the grim duty and noble resolve that the Sword of Seals should embody into something much worse. There? There lay no justification. Only cruelty.

"We do what we must, don't we?" Plover asked her softly. She turned her head to look at him, and found him looking at her with a sad smile. 

But it was Grima she was looking at when Lucina answered.

"Yes," Lucina said. "We do." 

And for the briefest of moments, Lucina thought some understanding passed between the two of them. But it was only an instant. Lucina turned back again, looking at the castle.

"It's not over yet," she called out loudly, knowing they could hear her. "I'm still not entirely convinced. And I have earned a fight with her."

It was a few seconds before she got her answer.

"You have."

Lucina nodded in acknowledgement, and walked away. Maybe it was her imagination, but Falchion felt lighter now than a minute ago. She would have to talk with her father... and with King Marth, if she could find him. Maybe they could help her make sense of this.

----------------------------------

They watched her go, curious and apprehensive at the same time. Then Grima's eyes turned to Plover. The question was not voiced, but he knew it anyway. 

"I think we gave her a lot to mull over," he said softly. Grima rumbled in response, her eyes sliding towards Lucina and following her as she left. 

"Gave you something to think about too, huh?" He asked with a smile. Grima didn't answer. But with the two of them, that was an answer in itself. He simply laughed and decided to put the words away for today. He still had a job to do, after all. He hoisted himself back onto her horn, careful not to shear his calves off as he did, and picked up the mop. Grima's eyes soon drifted shut, as she fell gently asleep.

As the afternoon wore on, the plover continued to clean its beloved crocodile. Not out of hunger, as other birds had done in the past. It cleaned because it wanted the crocodile to be happy. And the crocodile knew this.

[a-real-chara-cter]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; MUN & MUSE - MEME.

FILL OUT & REPOST ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

TAGGED BY: @the-judge-of-bones TAGGING: Steal it

MY MUSE IS:  canon / oc / au / CANON-DIVERGENT / fandomless / complicated

Is your character popular in the fandom? YES / NO. Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK  Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. Are they underrated?  YES / NO / IDK / KINDA (They're certainly underappreciated, I think - lots of screaming about 'MURDERBRAT CHARA', not much really looking at them as a character) Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO / KINDA (Depends on your headcanons, but they're literally the instigator of half the worldbuilding so) Were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG (The main character is mistaken for them, and will either finally be seen for who they are, or meet them at the end) Are they widely known in their world? YES / NO. (Duh. Human Prince of Monsters) How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL (The way I play them, while they're seen as more distant and less approachable than the King, Queen, or the other Prince - they have a reputation for caring and working hard for monsters, and for being, if not easy to work with, then reliable to work with. If they say they'll arrange funding for your work, you can practically start spending the money already.) How strictly do you follow canon?  — Not very strictly at all, really. I diverge in a major way right from the get go, and I have no problems with changing or tweaking details to make them work better, though I'll at least try to get at the -purpose- behind the detail first and see how it can be salvaged.

SELL YOUR MUSE! AKA TRY TO LIST EVERYTHING, WHICH MAKES YOUR MUSE INTERESTING IN YOUR OPINION TO MAKE THEM SPICY FOR YOUR MUTUALS.  —  Regal of bearing, quick of wit, sly of tongue, Determined of heart and dorky of mind. Prince Chara is an exercise in dichotomies, in the liminal spaces between love and hate, hard and soft, hot and cold. If you want to interact with a muse who can be waxing philosophical on the ways feelings can treat and triage emotional wounds one minute and then turn around and flirt through puns the next, here's your enby. If you ever wanted to see what a grown up Chara could have been, here they are.

NOW THE OPPOSITE, LIST EVERYTHING WHY YOUR MUSE COULD NOT BE SO INTERESTING (EVEN IF YOU MAY NOT AGREE, WHAT DOES THE FANDOM PERHAPS THINK?).  —  They're prickly. They trust slowly, and often only at swordpoint at first. They're a Chara, which, well - one of hundreds in the fandom, even if they're a bit different - the differences make them stand out, but also make them closer to an OC, which has its own problems. They like things to go as expected/planned, which can make initial interactions a bit tricky.

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO RP YOUR MUSE?  —  The mystery of Chara fascinated me about Undertale, and I admit to feeling a strong kinship to them - the Sans Genocide fight certainly didn't help there, because _I love a challenge_, and that fight comes part and parcel with Chara in the surrounding fandom materials. It was a surprise when I started hearing their voice and feeling it looking for an outlet, but not an unwelcome one - it took me a little while to refine exactly who and what my Chara was, which parts of common fanon resonated and which to discard, but I'm quite pleased by the person they've grown into through the journey.

WHAT KEEPS YOUR INSPIRATION GOING?  —  Honestly? Nothing did for a while. I had a bad experience with the fandom that put me off for a long while, and then real life got in the way and Chara retreated into the back corner of my head, only coming out for occasional snippets of conversation with their favorite Asriel or to snark on random moments and things I was doing. I'm not sure what drew them more fully out of hiding exactly, but it's been really great to get into the swing of writing them again.

SOME MORE PERSONAL QUESTIONS FOR THE MUN.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO / SORT OF? Do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO / SORT OF? (I have headcanons and little ideas all the time, but I rarely write them out unless prompted, mostly they emerge in actual threading or discussions.) Do you sometimes write drabbles? YES / NO / WHEN PROMPTED (See above, basically) Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day? YES / NO (They're in my head 24/7, along with a handful of other muses sure, but still, it's rare an hour goes by without them chiming in some thought or observation or another.) Are you confident in your portrayal? YES / NO / SORT OF? Are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO (For all I often joke about being good for nothing but shipping and shitposting, I -have- been writing fiction for over fifteen years, and RPing for over ten. I'm pretty confident my writing is good) Are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO / SORTA (I can be really easy to upset or piss off if a hot button topic's pressed, but I'm generally pretty thick skinned, and I'm learning to be better at catching my temper and working around it.) DO YOU ACCEPT CRITICISM WELL ABOUT YOUR PORTRAYAL?  —  If it's useful criticism, that's actually about _my_ Prince and not what the reader thinks Chara should be, sure.

DO YOU LIKE QUESTIONS, WHICH HELP YOU EXPLORE YOUR CHARACTER?  — Go for it! I reblog headcanon type memes often enough, toss one at me, or just random questions.

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES TO A HEADCANON OF YOURS, DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY?  —  Depends on the headcanon - if it's a worldbuilding type headcanon, then sure, I'll debate that stuff all day. If it's a personal character headcanon, well... so long as you're framing it as a discussion, maybe? But it's not your headvoice, it's mine, you don't get a vote in how they express themselves.

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES WITH YOUR PORTRAYAL, HOW WOULD YOU TAKE IT?  — Hey, that's cool. If there's something offensive about it, lemme know and I can try to fix things, otherwise, we can hang out on separate parts of the fandom without being forced to interact, you don't gotta love my portrayal to be here, you don't even gotta read my shit to be here.

IF SOMEONE REALLY HATES YOUR CHARACTER, HOW DO YOU TAKE IT?  —  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Not my circus, not my monkey. Bring it -into- my circus and I'll tell you to fuck off.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PEOPLE POINTING OUT YOUR GRAMMATICAL ERRORS?  — Sure go for it

DO YOU THINK YOU ARE EASY GOING AS A MUN?   —  Fairly easy-going, but, well, I'm autistic, I know I'm not always as easy to get along with as I'd like. Still, tell me I'm doing something shitty and I'll stop, I'm not doing it on purpose.