Shigure's relationship with Kyo drives me crazy. he doesn't hate Kyo in the slightest - in fact, he pities Kyo, and not in the condescending "oh you poor little boy, cursed to be a horrible, disgusting monster" sort of way that everyone else does. Shigure pities Kyo for the reason he should be pitied: he's just a kid caught up in a system so inhumane it can't possibly be survived without some seriously unhealthy coping mechanisms.
and it drives me crazy because - listen, Shigure is the only zodiac member who's emotionally aware enough to see the other zodiac members as exactly what they are. he knows Yuki is a severely traumatized kid who projects all of his self-hatred on a single convenient target. he knows Akito is really a scared little girl with a raging god complex (literally) and no concept of a healthy relationship. and he knows Kyo is a regular-ass human being who doesn't deserve to be locked up for the rest of his life just because some arbitrary system says so. he KNOWS it's stupid. he KNOWS it's ridiculous and unfair. and he has to share a house with Kyo knowing that Kyo is living with a sword over his head, hating himself and hating others in perfect tandem because he has no other way of coping with the insane amounts of negativity he's had to deal with his entire life.
but the thing about Shigure is that he KNOWS all of this, and the same time he doesn't really CARE. he feels sorry for Kyo, but an apathetic sort of pity, a disinterested "this is how it is. such a shame." sort of pity. in some ways he's worse than the other zodiacs because he DOES see Kyo as a person, someone he likes being around even, but he still considers Kyo below his attention because all his focus is on Akito and breaking the curse. and sure, once the curse is broken Kyo will theoretically be set free with the rest of them, but that's more of a coincidental side effect than anything. despite being in a much more dangerous and precarious mental space AND comfortably in Shigure's reach, Kyo is about as much a priority for Shigure as Ritsu or Momiji.
and it drives me CRAZY because i think Shigure does start actively caring about Kyo as the series goes on, but it's hard to tell when that happens and to what extent. when Kazuma told Shigure he planned to reveal Kyo's true form and Shigure said he was going too far - whose sake was it for? was Shigure trying to protect Kyo, who would be hideously traumatized/emotionally scarred by such a cruel betrayal? was he trying to protect Kyo and Tohru's relationship, which was still formulating and might, under such severe testing, ultimately end up damaged beyond repair? was he only trying to protect Tohru, who wasn't ready to be burdened by such a horrible aspect of the curse so soon, or perhaps simply didn't deserve it? or was it all for the sake of himself, trying to protect his still-forming plans of using Tohru's positive effect on the Sohmas to break the curse?
Shigure cares about Kyo, but they're not close and Kyo clearly isn't a priority. he treats Kyo like a person - offering him genuine advice, teasing him like he teases anyone else, even speaking up on his behalf once or twice - and yet he's too entrenched in the long game to spare much active interest in Kyo. for a very long time, he doesn't care about Kyo the way he cares about Yuki or Tohru, and it's never made clear when exactly that changed. and the thing that gets me about this whole situation is that right from the start, Shigure is in a position where he can meet Kyo at his level - as equals, just one human being to another - but he doesn't, because Shigure is a chessmaster, Shigure is someone who observes and calculates, Shigure never steps in unless one of his chess pieces makes a wrong move and he absolutely has to.
it drives me crazy. Shigure drives me crazy. this series drives me so so crazy.
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Jessamine's design has always intrigued me. the stark, full black suit and tall collar are pretty obvious status symbols. black was for the longest time an incredibly expensive colour of fabric due to how difficult it was to achieve proper rich blackness during the dyeing process and the collar, while most likely just a trend in Dunwall fashion inspired by the 1890s high collars can be read as lace, especially in some concept art, which is hard to care for and needs to be starched to hell and back to keep nice and stiff for a collar like that
but what I find a lot more curious about this is that the clothes appear very much inspired by Spanish renaissance fashion
which, honestly, would make sense with the real world inspiration. 19th century was obsessed with the past, with the romanticized medieval and renaissance times, and it was quite common to see fashion inspired by times long past (I mean, just look at Worth. the man invented haute couture and there is so much influence of medieval and Elisabethan fashion in his designs). it was also a thing for rich families to just kinda... invest in recreations of historical pieces of clothing and LARP in them.
Jessamine's clothes, in particular, reminded me of Spanish court dresses. especially of the portraits of Anne of Austria and Elisabeth of Valois
obsessed with those slit sleeves. too bad Jessamine didn't go the extra mile to have the sleeves hang long and heavy around her arms but they were more form fitting
there is also something to be said about the tall white (possibly starched lace) collar and the style of clasps used on her clothes
the mini cape thing she has on top is more similar to the style of capes worn by men in renaissance, but yeah, of course she reminded me of a Spanish princess when this is one of the most given example portraits for this style
I wonder if this was an intentional choice on the designer's side or if they were just inspired by the revivalism present in 19th century fashion. what really makes me consider that though is that one of her earlier designs has those sleeves much, Much more pronounced and obvious
oh the things that could have been...
still, it makes me wonder: if this was intentional, what does this tell us about Jessamine, and the history of the Isles themselves?
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at some point i will figure out how to write the post-canon, post-empire edelgard autonomy fic of my dreams. it just feels like a very big task and maybe like with playing the dane, i’m simply not old and traumatized enough to manage it yet.
but my vision is thus: it’s set years (realistically, decades) after the end of crimson flower, when everything has gone as right as it can possibly go. fódlan is thriving. the social reforms have taken effect. the nobility system is nearly eliminated, if not entirely so, with titles made merely symbolic. social mobility, welfare, and prosperity are high. there’s an explosion in arts and culture and technology. brigid and duscur have gained independence; relations with sreng and almyra are much improved; heck, maybe they've even figured it out with dagda. in my most idealistic version, leicester and faerghus would eventually be ceded back to become autonomous regions, essentially disbanding the adrestian empire. rule is no longer hereditary, but merit-based. there's a roadmap for the future, and everything is on track—and more than that, people at all points on the power spectrum have already seen it bear fruit. with or without edelgard, it will be pursued. there's buy-in. they believe.
of course, it's not perfect—nothing can be—but edelgard's vision has been fulfilled. the people are empowered. humanity is free. fódlan has healed.
and somehow, she's had enough time to resolve her goals outside of politics, too. those who slither in the dark have been eradicated. edelgard and lysithea's second crests have been successfully removed, allowing them to live if not full lives, then substantially longer ones than they would have with their twin crests intact. who knows—maybe she finally gets around to having that wedding.
point for point, every item listed in edelgard's manifesto has been checked off. the ghosts of her past have been laid to rest. she can finally take off her crown. she can finally pursue the quiet, humble life she's wanted for so long. she can finally breathe.
... but can she?
edelgard is nothing if not driven. her intelligence, vision, and sheer willpower allowed her to plan and execute a revolution against two countries and the most powerful institution on the continent, all while she was still a teenager. as royalty, her life was never truly hers even before she became heir to the adrestian throne, with all the additional baggage of survivor's guilt and the desire for vengeance and her need to ensure nothing that happened to her can ever happen to anyone else, ever again.
so what happens when that drive has no outlet? what happens when someone who has been constantly in motion, constantly working and planning and preparing every spare second of every day since she was fourteen years old, suddenly has to stand still? what happens when someone whose hands have been bound for so long—first literally in the dungeons of enbarr, then by the weight and responsibilities of her crown—is set free?
being edelgard, she would step away from the throne, no matter how hard it was for her to give up control. she's always been focused on the endgame, and she knows that if she doesn't let go, she'll be setting the wrong tone for fódlan's future. she's too devoted to that endgame to cling to power much longer than she needs to, though i could see her making some excuses and trying to iron out just a few more things to buy herself some more time to mentally prepare before she's done for good.
but who would she be then? who is the woman without the crown? what becomes of a machine once it is no longer needed, when it has made itself obsolete? what about when that machine is a person with legs and arms and an innate unwillingness to gather dust on a shelf?
what happens when you get everything you want? what happens when all your wanting has been for others to thrive, and now you have to want only for yourself? how do you discover who you are when you've spent decades being everything for everyone else? how do you find meaning again? how do you find purpose?
after a lifetime of devotion and passion and movement, how do you learn to sit with yourself, and be quiet, and be still?
gosh, i would love to meet her. i would love to pick her brain. but boy, i do not envy the work that girl has to do.
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They were supposed to be– No. Something’s wrong.
They’re supposed to be the last hope. The Light’s last argument against the Darkness.
This isn’t supposed to be happening.
In other words, a Shin Malphur in denial over his "end to last rites and final words" drags Drifter down with him. Drifter really really doesn't want to be here nor interact with the Young Wolf, rather fresh into their exile. Shin says Win-Win, Drifter says Lose-Lose.
Important lore bits (ik its weird to have important Canon Lore to an AU but. well im not sane so): Drifter's hallucinations from the Nine, Shin's lorebook to the Young Wolf. Set a bit before Season of the Drifter.
[ao3]
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“So… What’s all this about?” The Drifter eyes the Hunter across from him, leaning against the decrepit wall and shielded from the dull light overhead. The air is stale and suffocating, and his usually laid-back tone is tense. “Thought you were retiring.”
“You know what this is about,” came the response from a dead voice, though the Drifter couldn’t place if the tone was irritation or some kind of sorrow. “The Guardian. You know the one.”
He braces as he watches Shin Malphur stalk away from the wall, helmeted head still shadowed by his hood. “Still doesn’t tell me why you’re here,” the Drifter says, terse, keeping his ground as the man stares him down through the solid visor.
Maybe Shin wasn’t here on any of that business, but there was, nonetheless, an air around the man. Different from the one he was once so familiar with, but overshadowing all the same.
“Something isn’t right.” There’s a finality to the Dredgen Hunter’s voice that forces his eyes away. Even without looking, he knew Shin had not let up, and wouldn’t until he had whatever answer he wanted.
Drifter sighs, realizing where the conversation must’ve been going. “Ain’t the first to tell me that… And what do you want me to do about it? I doubt they’ll have any interest in this operation.”
From everything he’s… overheard, the Guardian had come off as impulsive to him, yes—But if Shin was right, then any assumptions made from their stunt in the Prison couldn’t be trusted. Even without those, though, they were still dangerous and unpredictable. Especially now—
“Talk to them. Tell me what you think. Disguise it as a helping hand—We both know your games; it wouldn’t be a hard sell.” Shin states, almost nonchalantly. He bristles.
“Do you know what yer asking me? If you’re wrong–”
“I’m not.” The Hunter’s certainty almost forces him to do a double take, and he clenches his jaw.
“–But if you are,” he grits out, “I’m sure you know better than me what they’re capable of. You’ve obviously been watching them, and I’ve only seen what reports I can get my hands on.” Which, in fairness, was a good amount—but there's a difference between watching a video or reading a few paragraphs, and having been there.
He wasn’t going to risk his life for a hunch, least of all one from the Man With The Golden Gun. Drifter trusted that he’d keep his word, and that the man was more than physically capable, but he knew enough unpredictable exiles already to figure it a bad idea.
“Then take some time to watch,” the Hunter insists. Drifter didn’t know what to make of his tone anymore. “You’ll see what I mean when I say there’s something wrong. I thought you’d recognize… some things.”
He opens his mouth to question what that meant, but is cut off by Shin pulling out a data tablet and holding it out to him. Drifter stares at it for a few moments, before gingerly taking it.
“What games you playing at?” He questions, suspicious, switching between eyeing the man and the video. He recognizes the armor of the Young Wolf, and their dead, exhausted movements. Still, nothing out of the usual, aside from the discarded helmet.
“I don’t play games, Hope.” He doesn’t have the chance to object to the name before Shin continues, stiff. “Look closer.”
“What, finally found something to… to…” Drifter begins to sneer, intending to mock his business partner’s caution, before he registers the Guardian’s face. Something about their expression rings a bell in his mind.
“Fear? Not quite.”
It dawns on him that the tone he couldn’t place earlier was… veiled worry, snapping his eyes up from the video.
Shin fucking Malphur, worried he was wrong about someone. That was already strange enough, but he had decided to put his faith in them, without so much as meeting them. Drifter isn’t sure if he should laugh or try to knock some sense into the man, regardless of the harm that would come to himself in doing so.
“We’ve known each for how long, without any more trust than in shared interests?” He pauses, searching Shin’s visor, speechless. The Hunter does not speak, and only gives a tilt of his head. Drifter can imagine him raising a brow at him.
“You’ve suddenly decided you could trust someone, an’ you–” Despite himself, a single, disbelieving laugh escapes him as he struggles over his words. “–You want me to… play therapist? Is that what this is?”
“It’s in your interest, too.” If Shin was bothered by his reaction, it doesn’t show, and Drifter throws his hand up at the simplicity of the statement. What the hell is this?
“If you’re right, sure! But you–”
“You saw their face. I saw the recognition cross yours.”
His jaw slams shut at the interruption and Drifter grits his teeth, before taking a breath and continuing a bit more painstakingly. “Doesn’t mean they didn’t try to kill him, just means they’ve got… other problems. I can only do so much, and only for one of those.”
“That’s enough for me,” Shin states, ever level. Insane, were Drifter asked.
“And who’s to say either of us are right?” He throws his hand out in a sweeping motion, vaguely referring to the whole of the problem. “If we’re both wrong about their state, what then?”
Shin doesn’t respond, helmet tilted towards the long-abandoned bar behind the Drifter. Even unable to see his eyes, not being pinned on the spot by that hidden glare was almost relieving—And would’ve been, if not for the reason.
Drifter can’t help the disbelieving, bordering on manic chuckle that escapes him. “You’re too set on this.”
“Meet them, at least. Tell me what you think after.”
He glares a moment before, “I’m only agreeing to this because you have a good eye. Don’t expect this to be common.”
“You’ll be making a new friend, you’ll live.”
“Better hope so,” he grumbles.
Shin only hums in response, apparently satisfied.
Prick.
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