RP:Backstep... to the Future

This is a Warrior's Guild RP.

Part of the Dissonance Theory Arc

Part of the Time Heals All Wounds Arc

Synopsis: Ten days after the Cave of Regrets. Penelope has returned to the Vigilanti Semper to pay her respects to honor Quinton Navarre and help with preparations. All the while, Penelope finds Lionel and the two finally debrief about the future with Xicotl and how lives were saved. The Imperator then mentions a future long-distance relationship with the healer. Lionel is only able to partially answer Nel's lingering question: did it work?

Vigilanti Semper

Lionel || Ten days had passed since Lionel's rescue from the Cave of Regrets. Ten days since his friends and allies arrived as the Penelope and Rilla from a dark future had hoped they would. Ten days since the survivors of a terrible real-life nightmare received their boons. Ten days since two women and a handful of other saviors sacrificed their timeline for this one, returning themselves into the Rilla and Penelope of the present after a fashion. But neither of the women could feel it, or know it, or remotely understand what their doomed selves had gone through. Lionel knew. Lionel saw them each and every day; he saw them pour their hearts and souls into reversing misfortune and saving millions of people from being devoured. Lionel alone knew those two women, and Lionel alone would need to remember them. The courtyard at the center of Vigilanti Semper was turning autumnal now. The leaves on all the trees were yellow and red and falling. The gazebo was covered in those colours. Guild members mingled with merchants and other visitors, enjoying the hour of twilight. Preparations were being made inside the command wing for the gathering and hosting of dozens of people tomorrow, where Lionel would do his best to once again lead a ragtag group of heroes who often understood even less than he did about what it took to keep the world from falling. They had gifts now, each and every one of them; gifts which could turn the tide against Xicotl. Gifts that, doubtless, many of them did not yet fully comprehend. Even Lionel's own sword, forged in the Cave of Regrets at the passing of a prayer, still felt foreign and unknowable -- if considerably powerful. There would be a funeral tomorrow, too. A time to honor the fallen. A place where Kasyr's pain would be on full display, given the loss of Quinton Navarre. Lionel needed to be there for the Kensai no matter what. But right this moment, his thoughts were focused on a single flower directly ahead of him. Why did it appear so familiar?

Penelope :: Ten days. Days that flew by with a chip of sorrow on the shoulder. Quinton Navarre had died on the journey was the word that circled the boat. Although the outcomes of the future had been rearranged did not mean that a price did not have to be paid. In the meantime, Penelope had departed without many words, nor questions, for the last ingredient she needed in the Nameless Desert had been found. The ten days were filled with piecing together mysteries of plants. Ten days filled with growth. Knowledge. New skills. Although the chip was thick, the healer was not one to stop and… breathe. Until today. The day before the members of the guild would pay their respects to the one who had fallen. The healer had arrived a day early to help with the preparations. The semper had been bustling just like the change of seasons. Where had time gone? The healer had motioned through the crowd of guild members, and of merchants. Through the crowd stood the commander; staring at a single flower. Slowly she begins to walk before she is right behind one of his shoulders in observation. A cant of a head at the same single flower. A soft-spoken, accented voice lingers. “Life. Steady growth. Although occasionally there can be wilts.”

Lionel was surprised at first to hear Penelope's voice, yet so transfixed upon that single flower that he didn't start or shake. Suddenly, it dawned on him. "You and Rilla kept plants nearby while you tinkered with the machine," he said slowly. Dreamily. "You worked here at Semper. You worked yourselves to the bone. This place was the last bastion. The all-or-nothing." Lionel gave their surroundings a wave but still did not turn from the flower. "But you kept the plants. You brought some inside. A reminder, I think, that even when resting the fate of the world upon a cold, metal device from an age long past, it was life, steady growth, occasional wilts, that the two of you were fighting for." Lionel turned toward Penelope, having plucked the flower and holding it in his hand. "You picked several of these and placed them inside a vase near the machine. You kept them in fresh water and tended them. You told me they were the last beautiful thing you had left. I saw these flowers on a huge projection screen spanning the fullness of the Cave of Regrets. I saw them for weeks. They made you happy," he concluded, handing Penelope the flower

Penelope does not look at the warrior. Instead, her gaze is transfixed on the flower. The girl eases into his flashback, or… flash-forward. The mock image swirls in her head. His words echo in her head and this time, her gaze is unreadable. His thoughts were out of her grasp. Hard to study. The month he was gone had been… her hell, yet also her strength in another time period. The words flow, and the questions whirl in her mind again. Questions from the ship. As he hands the healer the flower, there is a faint smile. “Well, orange poppies,” the orange flower is held in front of both their gazes. The stem twirls between fingertips. “I used to sit in fields of them as a little girl. They’re my favorite,” she had remembered writing to her pen pal before the journey to the Cave of Regrets. Iintahquohae. Her pen pal was still a mystery. “They’re a symbol of remembrance, and… remembering those who fought is a beautiful thing. To remember life, I mean. Why someone lived even if it was ever-so simple. These make me happy in general. How coincidental.” Many had died in that future war. It was no wonder. The silence falls for a moment as she stares intently at the orange petals, and then the silence breaks with the impulse question she has been thinking about since that wicked day. “How did I survive? Why wasn’t it you? Kasyr? Khitti? How?” Was it the spur of Nel luck that always waved her way to let her breathe for a moment more in life before pulling her back under? Even though she fought, she was also the weakest link within the members. It was hard to latch onto. Another chance to survive another retched moment of time.

Lionel || "I know," Lionel said warmly. "You told me about the field. About remembrance." He scratched at the nape of his neck absentmindedly, feeling an abrupt realization that all this talk about a Penelope from a year into the future ran the risk of leaving the Penelope in front of him distinctly uncomfortable. "But I don't mind hearing it again," Lionel quickly added with a trademark smirk. "This must be kind of confusing." Without voicing the intent, he began to lead her to the gazebo, taking a seat on one of the benches beneath its roof and effectively inviting her to do the same. "I look at you and I see her. I looked at her… and I saw you. I mean, of course I did, right? Of course I did. But at the end of her world, she told me everything she could think to say. Just so that I could carry on remembering her." Catal's Last Prince afforded the orange poppy one last glance. Only now did he feel comfortable answering Penelope's inquiry. "Early into their war, Penelope fought at the frontlines. But when thousands perished, and thousands became tens of thousands and then more, healers were in short supply. You led what remained of the Healer's Guild and tried to develop a cure for those pitiful wretches who had once been people but now were thralls. 'If the thralls could be stopped,' you explained to me, 'then maybe there was still hope. Maybe no one else had to be eaten.' But the attempt was a failure. The thralls could not be cured, after all. Still, it kept you from the trenches. You healed those whom you could. By the time you and Rilla assembled the machine, there were only a few hundred Lithrydelians left alive, but each and every one of them owed their survival to you. That had to mean something," Lionel looked up and said to Penelope severely. "And then, in the end? You may have saved millions."

Penelope’s eyes lifted at his remembrance. She told him. She told him details. What else had she told him? There was a feeling of prickles that reflected on her neck. There is a smirk that escapes her lips. One of uneasiness, but also one of relief. It was an odd feeling that he held knowledge that she would not even know about herself. The healer is an easy follow and she sits down at his cue while rubbing her thighs idly in the process. Her thought process, that is. He continues. Penelope fighting on the frontlines. Ready to risk her life for others. Risking her life for people, any day, but sitting in the frontlines while doing so? Her mind trails to the mirror image of herself. Sitting in the trenches until too many were gone. Wits. Wits were played until the end. It was hard to wrap her mind around. Especially because weeks prior to the Cave of Regrets… she failed. A girl who was on the other side of the dagger for once. The enemy. Due to time travel with the entity that inherited the metallic-armed elf. Did Lionel know that? Penelope, instead, holds his steady, severe gaze for the meantime with a lack for words. “I guess we will just have to figure out… how Rilla and I changed the game for this new future,” pause. “How did Rilla and I assemble the machine? I remember you saying it was one of the items that Kasyr and I found on our journey at sea with Captain Navarre?”

Lionel || "It took you a long time, but your perseverance paid off." Lionel looked up at the sky as the last rays of sunlight slowly vanished behind the treeline. "At first, you wondered if the relics you found with Kasyr were some sort of time capsules. Remembrances," he said with a knowing chuckle, "of a civilization that succumbed to Xicotl. But the more the relics were studied, the more their strange text could be deciphered. And the more that could be read, the more obvious it became that the parts were meant to come together. But they came with a warning: That the builders had intended to use time travel to save themselves, as you and Rilla ultimately did; but the builders had failed, and there wasn't enough -- time -- left for them to figure out why. Their own last survivors logged their notes with the relics in the hopes that one day the work could be completed and another civilization could be saved. It makes my head spin, but I suppose it means there were heroes in our future as well as far, far into our past. And each of you did what had to be done, sacrificing what was left for yourselves… for us."

Penelope hunches over with her elbows resting on her knees. Eyes begin to scan back and forth as if she was reading Lionel’s open words. Her head had fallen as he spoke of the last civilization who had ran out of time. A thumb and finger had pinched the bridge of nose for process. It was a grim thought. So many had died prior. Many had died during their era as well… well, until the relics were pieced together. The information had been heavy, “Rilla and I figured it out,” the statement was in open air. Sacrificed themselves. A conclusion that would still, almost always have gaps. “I’d do it again. I’d do it now, you know. If the choice was given,” she sits up from the slump of information, and moss eyes also reflect over the treeline. With him near, it seemed like a fable. “You,” she begins, “that time in the cave. I’m sorry we didn’t find you sooner. I’m so sorry, Lionel,” her eyes find his face and she stares at him with sincerity. Regret. It was a sincere apology. “There was a point that… we were trapped what seemed like… a month,” the memory slips as she remembers being trapped. “How did you pull through sitting there? How in the hell did you not die being trapped there for as long as you were?”

Lionel stretched his tired arms and admired the view before them. "I know you would," he said happily. "And that's one of the many ways in which you're pretty damned spiffy. Don't apologize, please." There was a pleading look in Lionel's azure eyes now when next they fell upon Penelope. "What you went through sounds horrible. What everyone went through; the tidbits I've heard, they're not unlike what I experienced for myself 15 years ago, when a 17-year-old yours truly nearly died out there. Frankly, the fact that any of you survived is miracle enough. Most don't." He shook his head in mild disbelief over the whole arrangement. The future variants of Penelope and Rilla had to bank not only on the hope that they would all come for Lionel, but that they would defy the odds and live to reach him. "Algae, by the way." He grimaced and made a child-like expression of disgust through a collaboration between his tongue and his downturned lips. "I survived on algae. So, that sucked. But sitting around would have been a lot worse if it hadn't been for the two of you. You were both so lonely." Lionel's grimace transformed into a sigh. "Rilla is good people, Nel. Real good people. Never let her tell you otherwise. And as for you, well… let's just say the two of us explored a… long-distance… relationship."

Penelope gives off a half-smirk when he tells her not to apologize. How could she not? The healer had been wrapped up in her own world to even think about his. It had been almost selfish. The girl inhales and nods. The Ardelian would not know what the experience was like, but it sounded pretty close to whatever she had just went through in the month Lionel was gone. Another hell. Another hell to survive. The woman crinkles her nose. “Algae,” the grimace was reflected. His frame is taken in. Still recovering from the month that had taken the toll. “Well, I’m hoping you’re getting some better nourishment…” Eyes sort of scan over him in that clinical way before he speaks his last sentence. “I’ve met Rilla once. She helped me with carrying a barrow home. And… I wouldn’t disagree. Considering we worked together.” As for the relationship, the healer sort of shifts and a hand runs through tangled hair. Not ‘dating’. Not discovering ‘togetherness’. An actual ‘relationship’. “Relationship. Explored a long-distance one,” her tone was as if there was an opening for him to explain. “Did it work?” Her questioning tone did not hold hesitance, but pure curiosity. Penelope Halifax had normally been distant and not easily spoken about her past, but… who knew what future Penelope spilled once she had opened up, or who knew who she shut out in order to become fickle from growing feelings.

Lionel looked leaner than usual and he had never been much more than lean. That much was undeniable despite his best efforts to puff himself up where he stood. As per custom with Lionel, any attempts to make himself appear in any fashion which he was not resulted in tragicomedy. Blowing raspberries, he shrugged his shoulders at his own failure. "I'm working on it," Lionel gave in and admitted. Somehow, he was left utterly unprepared for Penelope's next question. Did it work? What an inquisition this was proving to be! Though, deep down inside, the Catalian knew that this was anything but. Penelope was being extremely patient here. It was just that Lionel… was Lionel. Twirling around melodramatically, he winked at her and took a step backwards away from her person. Followed by another step. And then another. "I don't know," he said. "I think so? We were really, really far apart, you see." Another step backwards and then one more. "You were all the way over here." Another backwards step. "I was far at sea." And another. "And our timezones were such a mess." Yet another. A tired and portly blacksmith nearly tumbled into him, cursing unsavory words before realizing who it was. "Pardon, Imperator," the blacksmith quickly mumbled, giving this strange person who led them all a wide berth. "So here's what we're gonna do," Lionel said while stepping all the more backwards and then some. "I'm going to bed." Another step. "You're going to hold onto that flower and remember this conversation." Another. By now, he was halfway to shouting in order to ensure Penelope continued to hear him. "You're going to stay here tonight, needless to say, because meeting-slash-funeral-slash-who-knows-probably-some-dastardly-ambush-from-cliched-villains-with-bad-haircuts." Another backstep made. "Our relationship will become long-distance," Lionel said with a flourish of the space between them now. "And after business is sorted, I'm going to close this gap between us all over again and you're going to tell me if you missed me, or hated me, or both." Yet. Another. Step. "If you missed me, let's try something new together. If you hated me, let's maybe give it a rest for a little while. And if you missed me -and- hated me, then you're basically your future self, who went on to tell me that she had spent some time wishing we'd been married? So that was a thing." Several more backsteps. A horse-drawn carriage had to zigzag out of Lionel O'Connor's way, its driver not even bothering to pretend she wasn't annoyed. To hell with this lunatic's rank. "Until then," he concluded, "I'll leave you with a stray thought: Maybe marriage wouldn't have been so bad." And he was gone, vanished behind a corner en route to his quarters as stars filled the night sky.

Penelope did not squirm further as the patience washes over her. Sure, there might have been a stare of bewilderment, but stillness all-the-same. The twirl earns him a crinkled nose, a half-smile, and squinted eyes. ‘I think so?’ a few blinks are earned. He thinks so. How? The two had barely began to know each other. The girl remains sitting as he takes multiple steps back. Lionel O’Connor was far at sea while she awaited on another plane of land. Did she write him? Always wonder about him as he remained on the frontlines? Her hand slowly slips to the ring around her finger as moss eyes stare at him stepping back from her in mystery. As the blacksmith is bumped her hand instantly rests on her forehead. The Imperator makes the next move. The next decision. Eyes stare at him in almost embarrassment as he shouts at her down the hallway. Her eyes are wide and shifting from side to side for anyone else who would walk by, and she also stands. Lips mouth a silent ‘stop’ because she was pretty sure the world was hearing the warrior right now. The woman is motionless and speechless, as usual, under the night sky that falls. The information that seemed so nonchalant from the man is what throws her mind in a whirl. Marriage. Future Penelope Halifax wished for marriage, and somehow had been captivated by Lionel O'Connor. Who would have thought? Not her. Sun-kissed skin drains into crimson immediately. The last words were the ones that leave her a pink ghost under the starry sky. ‘Maybe marriage would not have been so bad’. In an instant, the ring on her middle finger is released, and the Ardelian is left staring into an empty hallway. A blank stare and an orange flower of remembrance. Remembrance that only Lionel O’Connor held.