"War Markings," Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne, Cu Chulainn/Protagonist
Title: War Markings
Fandom: Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne
Pairing: Cu Chulainn/Protagonist
Author: Keteb
Recipient: Pretzel Thief
Rating: PG-13
Note: Picking up a leftover prompt, because I couldn't resist its call. This may be a little bit less game-focused and more mythological than you had intended -- I hope it's still okay. ^^;
Summary: Naoki and Cu Chulainn compare their scars, and the stories that go with them.
War Markings
Everything about this world is strange, from the unearthly light in the bowl of sky to the fantastical creatures that walk the surface, speaking as men. There are tunnels that stretch on for leagues, joining one fortified city with another, and there are living dolls that know fear as slaves. There are armies massing, factions at war with one another over Reasons instead of known wrongs. The language that they speak sounds alien and clumsy on his tongue, yet all those who follow the boy hero speak it, strange though it be to them as well.
Cu Chulainn grounds himself around that one certainty: the boy hero is something he can understand, something he can remember. Naoki Half-Demon is a boy he can respect, a boy he can fight beside, a boy with eyes flashing fire and strength blazing along the war markings on his bared skin.
And in the quiet times between battles, when they rest and resupply in one of the cities of this world, Cu Chulainn keeps to the boy's side then as well. There is little in these cities to tempt him, and no company that makes him feel so near at home -- even now, when they have met his old master, she seems changed by this place, more eldritch and less alive in Asakusa than she ever was in Dun Scaith. She holds herself apart, an oracle, a seer, and he has ever loved the company of warriors over mystics. That is another thing that he and Naoki share.
Were they at Emain Macha, in the halls of his uncle's castle, Cu Chulainn would bring Naoki to his sleeping furs, and have him there, by firelight. Here in the dolls' city, they have a stiff mattress in a dusty little room, and the light from the panels above is dim and cold. Yet it suffices, for all the squalor; Naoki the marked is young and proud and fierce, and he shines even when his surroundings do not. They come together there on the bare mattress, striving against each other, lean white limbs tangled together, and even in triumph, the boy hero is silent.
After, they lie spent under the cool light, weapons and armor set aside, bare skin pressed to skin. "You have so many scars," Naoki says, his fingers tracing them.
Cu Chulainn smiles. "And you, my lord, have so few." He guides Naoki's hands down, over the story of his deeds writ in his skin. "Here is the wound I received in battle with Aife, the sister of my teacher, who bore me a son when I bested her. And here flew the arrows of the soldiers of Forgall, who sought to keep me from his daughter Emer, my chosen bride." Some shadow tracks across Naoki's face a moment, and Cu Chulainn stops. "The story displeases you?"
Naoki shakes his head. "Go on," he says. His voice is soft, gentle as a maiden's. He places his hand over Cu Chulainn's ribs, along a ragged arc of scar. "And this one?"
Cu Chulainn closes his hand over Naoki's. "A duel fought with my blood brother," he says, "for three days and nights while the men of Ulster could not stand beside me. Had Lugh the long-armed not come to bathe my wounds, I would have died that day."
"I'm glad you didn't," Naoki says. He lowers his head, so that his lips brush Cu Chulainn's collar bone.
"Not that day," Cu Chulainn murmurs. "My death wound has left me no scar, and I know not what that means." He remembers well his death, the agony that preceded it, the treachery of his foes and the pain of his spear-pierced side. He died on his feet like a warrior, lashed to a pillar with his own entrails, his last act before his strength failed. After that, he remembers nothing, only blackness and silence -- and then he awoke here, in this strange world with its dark sun and its demon wars. Hardly the respite he might have desired.
He shakes himself, and meets Naoki's shining eyes. "Forgive me, lord," he says. "This melancholy is ill suited to us." He smiles, resting his hand against Naoki Half-Demon's side. "Will you tell me, instead, of your exploits? From what battle comes this scar?"
"It's not from battle," Naoki says. His hand is warm against Cu Chulainn's own, and his demon markings pulse with the beat of his heart. "I had my appendix out a few years ago, that's all."
The word means nothing to him, but Cu Chulainn does not say so. It is far from the only thing about this world that he does not understand. "These, then?" he asks, tracing the thick bands of black that mark Naoki's skin. "Surely you were not born bearing these marks of war."
"No," Naoki agrees. "Or this, either." He bows his head, to draw attention to the demon's horn that rises from the back of his neck. "I got those real -- I mean, I think it was real recently. Time's been weird, since the Conception."
"Tell me," Cu Chulainn suggests.
The tale Naoki tells him then is fit to be sung in any of the halls of Cu Chulainn's kinsmen, a tale of the wrath of gods, the fate of great cities, the calling of a hero to his destiny. Naoki speaks of the eldritch child and the veiled woman who cursed him with power, and Cu Chulainn cannot but think of the Morrigan, her promises and threats when she showed herself to him. The wracking change of the Magatama -- the very word strange to Cu Chulainn's ears -- sounds like unto the warp-spasm that would overtake him in the battles of his own world. Yet nothing in Cu Chulainn's experience can compare with the solitude of Naoki Half-Demon walking this world with all his companions lost to him.
"And now here we are," Naoki finishes, "and I'm still looking for a Reason that really makes sense to me, and most of what I know is what I don't want." He looks for a moment entirely human, uncertain, and young.
"Your soldiers have faith in you, my lord," Cu Chulainn says, reaching to cup Naoki's face in his hand, stroking the demon markings so that the light flares along them. "You fight for us, do you not?"
A heartbeat passes, and another, and then Naoki nods.
"Then be not troubled," Cu Chulainn says. "For together we shall prevail." He seals his lips to Naoki's, and for a short time longer, the battle need not be joined.
Fandom: Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne
Pairing: Cu Chulainn/Protagonist
Author: Keteb
Recipient: Pretzel Thief
Rating: PG-13
Note: Picking up a leftover prompt, because I couldn't resist its call. This may be a little bit less game-focused and more mythological than you had intended -- I hope it's still okay. ^^;
Summary: Naoki and Cu Chulainn compare their scars, and the stories that go with them.
War Markings
Everything about this world is strange, from the unearthly light in the bowl of sky to the fantastical creatures that walk the surface, speaking as men. There are tunnels that stretch on for leagues, joining one fortified city with another, and there are living dolls that know fear as slaves. There are armies massing, factions at war with one another over Reasons instead of known wrongs. The language that they speak sounds alien and clumsy on his tongue, yet all those who follow the boy hero speak it, strange though it be to them as well.
Cu Chulainn grounds himself around that one certainty: the boy hero is something he can understand, something he can remember. Naoki Half-Demon is a boy he can respect, a boy he can fight beside, a boy with eyes flashing fire and strength blazing along the war markings on his bared skin.
And in the quiet times between battles, when they rest and resupply in one of the cities of this world, Cu Chulainn keeps to the boy's side then as well. There is little in these cities to tempt him, and no company that makes him feel so near at home -- even now, when they have met his old master, she seems changed by this place, more eldritch and less alive in Asakusa than she ever was in Dun Scaith. She holds herself apart, an oracle, a seer, and he has ever loved the company of warriors over mystics. That is another thing that he and Naoki share.
Were they at Emain Macha, in the halls of his uncle's castle, Cu Chulainn would bring Naoki to his sleeping furs, and have him there, by firelight. Here in the dolls' city, they have a stiff mattress in a dusty little room, and the light from the panels above is dim and cold. Yet it suffices, for all the squalor; Naoki the marked is young and proud and fierce, and he shines even when his surroundings do not. They come together there on the bare mattress, striving against each other, lean white limbs tangled together, and even in triumph, the boy hero is silent.
After, they lie spent under the cool light, weapons and armor set aside, bare skin pressed to skin. "You have so many scars," Naoki says, his fingers tracing them.
Cu Chulainn smiles. "And you, my lord, have so few." He guides Naoki's hands down, over the story of his deeds writ in his skin. "Here is the wound I received in battle with Aife, the sister of my teacher, who bore me a son when I bested her. And here flew the arrows of the soldiers of Forgall, who sought to keep me from his daughter Emer, my chosen bride." Some shadow tracks across Naoki's face a moment, and Cu Chulainn stops. "The story displeases you?"
Naoki shakes his head. "Go on," he says. His voice is soft, gentle as a maiden's. He places his hand over Cu Chulainn's ribs, along a ragged arc of scar. "And this one?"
Cu Chulainn closes his hand over Naoki's. "A duel fought with my blood brother," he says, "for three days and nights while the men of Ulster could not stand beside me. Had Lugh the long-armed not come to bathe my wounds, I would have died that day."
"I'm glad you didn't," Naoki says. He lowers his head, so that his lips brush Cu Chulainn's collar bone.
"Not that day," Cu Chulainn murmurs. "My death wound has left me no scar, and I know not what that means." He remembers well his death, the agony that preceded it, the treachery of his foes and the pain of his spear-pierced side. He died on his feet like a warrior, lashed to a pillar with his own entrails, his last act before his strength failed. After that, he remembers nothing, only blackness and silence -- and then he awoke here, in this strange world with its dark sun and its demon wars. Hardly the respite he might have desired.
He shakes himself, and meets Naoki's shining eyes. "Forgive me, lord," he says. "This melancholy is ill suited to us." He smiles, resting his hand against Naoki Half-Demon's side. "Will you tell me, instead, of your exploits? From what battle comes this scar?"
"It's not from battle," Naoki says. His hand is warm against Cu Chulainn's own, and his demon markings pulse with the beat of his heart. "I had my appendix out a few years ago, that's all."
The word means nothing to him, but Cu Chulainn does not say so. It is far from the only thing about this world that he does not understand. "These, then?" he asks, tracing the thick bands of black that mark Naoki's skin. "Surely you were not born bearing these marks of war."
"No," Naoki agrees. "Or this, either." He bows his head, to draw attention to the demon's horn that rises from the back of his neck. "I got those real -- I mean, I think it was real recently. Time's been weird, since the Conception."
"Tell me," Cu Chulainn suggests.
The tale Naoki tells him then is fit to be sung in any of the halls of Cu Chulainn's kinsmen, a tale of the wrath of gods, the fate of great cities, the calling of a hero to his destiny. Naoki speaks of the eldritch child and the veiled woman who cursed him with power, and Cu Chulainn cannot but think of the Morrigan, her promises and threats when she showed herself to him. The wracking change of the Magatama -- the very word strange to Cu Chulainn's ears -- sounds like unto the warp-spasm that would overtake him in the battles of his own world. Yet nothing in Cu Chulainn's experience can compare with the solitude of Naoki Half-Demon walking this world with all his companions lost to him.
"And now here we are," Naoki finishes, "and I'm still looking for a Reason that really makes sense to me, and most of what I know is what I don't want." He looks for a moment entirely human, uncertain, and young.
"Your soldiers have faith in you, my lord," Cu Chulainn says, reaching to cup Naoki's face in his hand, stroking the demon markings so that the light flares along them. "You fight for us, do you not?"
A heartbeat passes, and another, and then Naoki nods.
"Then be not troubled," Cu Chulainn says. "For together we shall prevail." He seals his lips to Naoki's, and for a short time longer, the battle need not be joined.