Lancer || Diarmuid Ua Duibhne (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
croibhristeoir) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tvk2012-02-29 08:19 pm
croibhristeoir) wrote in tvk2012-02-29 08:19 pm
Entry tags:
⚔ 020; [action]
[Diarmuid's been a bit scarce since the Lovers shadow was defeated. The whole mess gave him something of a shock, all things considered, and so he kept mostly to himself for a little while. But he grew tired of that quickly, and now that things had calmed down the former Servant tried to get back to what passed for normal.]
[Just before he left his hotel room that afternoon, a hardcover book resting on the table caught his eye--how long had he owned it for? Nearly as long as he'd been in Prospero, surely. In fact he recalled buying it not very long after awakening his Persona. Diarmuid wanted to revisit things, to again hear the legends that had been so commonly told when he was younger. He had admired the strength and loyalty of that knight, as well as the courage to meet his end with laughter and acceptance.]
[But in this era, the legend of the Hound of Ulster was not the only one to have come from their homeland. Diarmuid had left his own story behind, written with every small action he'd taken in life. Maybe it was finally time to see what sort of record was left behind.]
['You are not guilty of the geis which has been laid upon you', said Oisin, 'and I tell you to follow Grainne, and keep yourself well against the wiles of Fionn.'
'And what counsel do you give me, Diorruing?'
'I tell you to follow Grainne, though your death will come of it and I grieve for it.']
[It was not a happy tale. Diarmuid had certainly known that even as he lived through it. From the very first night he and all around him had known the story's end was already written. But what more could he have done? From the moment she laid eyes on him, there was no other path he could follow and still preserve his pride as a knight.]
['It was no long time after that when Fionn and the fianna of Erin came up, and the agonies of death and of instant dissolution were then coming upon Diarmuid.
'It likes me well to see thee in that plight, O Diarmuid,' said Fionn; 'and I grieve that all the women of Erin are not now gazing upon thee: for thy excellent beauty is turned to ugliness, and thy choice form to deformity.']
[...Even if it ended badly. No, it didn't matter how it ended. Death had come with no regrets great enough worth mentioning, and oh, how he ever missed the days when he could forgive so easily.]
[Sitting alone on a park bench, Diarmuid closed the book he held and slowly reached up to take his glasses off. A moment or two passed in silence, his expression unreadable and perhaps even a little cold. Then...he just smiled to himself, slowly. There was no way to change his past, and also nothing he would have done differently. He couldn't live up to his full expectations, but Diarmuid had confidence that he'd done his best. So...it was alright. He could try one last time for a life without a tragic ending.]
[Just before he left his hotel room that afternoon, a hardcover book resting on the table caught his eye--how long had he owned it for? Nearly as long as he'd been in Prospero, surely. In fact he recalled buying it not very long after awakening his Persona. Diarmuid wanted to revisit things, to again hear the legends that had been so commonly told when he was younger. He had admired the strength and loyalty of that knight, as well as the courage to meet his end with laughter and acceptance.]
[But in this era, the legend of the Hound of Ulster was not the only one to have come from their homeland. Diarmuid had left his own story behind, written with every small action he'd taken in life. Maybe it was finally time to see what sort of record was left behind.]
['You are not guilty of the geis which has been laid upon you', said Oisin, 'and I tell you to follow Grainne, and keep yourself well against the wiles of Fionn.'
'And what counsel do you give me, Diorruing?'
'I tell you to follow Grainne, though your death will come of it and I grieve for it.']
[It was not a happy tale. Diarmuid had certainly known that even as he lived through it. From the very first night he and all around him had known the story's end was already written. But what more could he have done? From the moment she laid eyes on him, there was no other path he could follow and still preserve his pride as a knight.]
['It was no long time after that when Fionn and the fianna of Erin came up, and the agonies of death and of instant dissolution were then coming upon Diarmuid.
'It likes me well to see thee in that plight, O Diarmuid,' said Fionn; 'and I grieve that all the women of Erin are not now gazing upon thee: for thy excellent beauty is turned to ugliness, and thy choice form to deformity.']
[...Even if it ended badly. No, it didn't matter how it ended. Death had come with no regrets great enough worth mentioning, and oh, how he ever missed the days when he could forgive so easily.]
[Sitting alone on a park bench, Diarmuid closed the book he held and slowly reached up to take his glasses off. A moment or two passed in silence, his expression unreadable and perhaps even a little cold. Then...he just smiled to himself, slowly. There was no way to change his past, and also nothing he would have done differently. He couldn't live up to his full expectations, but Diarmuid had confidence that he'd done his best. So...it was alright. He could try one last time for a life without a tragic ending.]
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[Looking distantly thoughtful, Diarmuid slowly raised a hand to his chest--specifically, the scar over his heart hidden by the shirt he was wearing.]
I have never before had the luxury of being like you, Edgeworth. Or like any human. That was the life I wanted ever since I was very young; one in which I could be a knight in service to another. But when I arrived here, I was angry and broken and...lonely. And it was in that dark time of my life I eventually realized the life of a human was...beautiful, in its monotony.
If I want to visit Arturia or any of my friends here, I can. If I should choose to wander the city for no better reason than I desire to, then I will. I have no Master to consider protecting, no lord to answer to...and that is both liberating and frightening to me.
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For us, there was no option. And if there ever was, we chose our paths accordingly. Arturia took her sword in hand, Cu Chulainn killed Culann's watchdog, and I joined the Fianna. No matter the individual's reasons, being a heroic spirit is being a manifested ideal: we each possess qualities no other ever has or ever will. We are 'complete and perfect existences' as defined by the Throne of Heroes from which we are called forth.
In short, for those like myself? It's very different.
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(What, precisely, is so different?)
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...yes?
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Listen, those like us...don't have an option between a career or being human, as you phrased it. We have to be more than human, to become the very ideal of what a 'hero' should be. Many of us sacrifice our desires and even our lives so that others can survive and live happily. Living as a normal human would was always impossible for individuals dedicated to that existence.
So when I say I have never lived for myself, I mean that my entire waking existence has been dedicated to others because that is what I was meant to be.
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Do you truly believe that you brought joy to no one, that you accomplished nothing of worth in upholding your ideals as best you were able in impossible circumstances? You seem to be struggling to find a definition of "hero" that could possibly include you within it, and casting a net so wide as to ensnare every man and woman of the slightest worth in it.
(Even myself.)
(Who says you shouldn't count, Miles?)
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I can only say three things to my own situation: I did what was right, it caused pain regardless, and I have never had any wish for myself and myself alone up to and including even the Grail.
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(You know as well as I that I'm only a lawyer.)
(Who says lawyers can't be heroes? You find great knowledge and it isn't just for you.)
(At my best, I've only maintained the status quo. We aren't responsible for anything revolutionary as a scientist or a politician can be.)
(Then why are people amazed by you?)
(Because far too many people are easily impressed. Simply acting as one agent among many in uncovering the truth is no miracle.)
[Why is Edgeworth's brow furrowing so much, Diarmuid?]
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