victory_road | [Closed]

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Who: A metaphorical wolf, an actual wolf, a bard, a swordcat, a rat king, a poison king, a horse with wings, a horse with a ~~bug~~ fish name and a wyvern eta and now a second horse
Where: National Park
When: Some time during 4th wall
Summary: Sparring! Powers! Potions! Animals! Secrets revealed, oh my!
Rating: let's give it an R for naughty jokes and references in narration

So you want to fight a witcher?
>Yes
>No
>Gwent

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The pegasus seems to calm down a bit once she has grass and the company of something that's shaped mostly the same as she is. It seems that horse-shaped creatures also prefer to stay in herds rather than being in the company of unfamiliar people, so hopefully Roach's presence will continue to be a calming influence. Dimitri sounds harried enough as it is without something adding to his woes.

"This is Roach," he says, properly introducing her since Dimitri has shown an interest. Roach, however, doesn't return much of that interest, and instead goes back to making a meal of the lawn. "I don't think she'll mind your pegasus, but you should watch your fingers."

He tips his head towards his pack, which is propped up against the base of a nearby tree. "Or bribe her. I've apples in my bag."

That's how Jaskier got more than one Roach to warm up to him-- shameless bribery. Horses are not immune to apples and sugar cubes, and the bard had learned to come well stocked with both. Geralt would prefer a little less sugar and perhaps more carrots if he was going to do his bribing, but he has little say in what Jaskier ultimately does.

"What do you call the pegasus?"

It would be awkward to keep referring to her as 'the pegasus', after all.

Even if Roach doesn't seem to care about his existence anymore, or may even take off a finger or two, Dimitri is more than happy to see her considering the small smile on his face. The location of the apples is noted - he may need those sooner than later - but he doesn't have long to consider that.

Because there is a... somewhat awkward question he has to deal with first.

While his winged companion adjusts the wings in question to rest more comfortably along her sides while snacking, Dimitri lets out a slow breath and tilts his head to the side. "If I may be honest, I am not entirely sure. She is not mine, you see. I would like to think that she is the steed of a childhood friend, but, well, I cannot be entirely sure. The last time I saw her, I was... not in much of a state to pay mind to such things."

He was hallucinating vividly and ignoring everyone else when he wasn't trying to kill someone on the battlefield.

"I like to think that she is, because she allowed me to guide her all this way, but, well... There is still that uncertainty." Slowly, he rests his hand along her exposed neck. It earns a brief side eye, but soon enough she goes back to grazing. Apparently that's allowed, for the time being.

So this is an unknown pegasus. Hopefully she is Dimitiri's friend's mount, though, because otherwise her tolerance for a stranger might run out sooner rather than later. Geralt would prefer not to have to wrangle an angry flying horse if he doesn't have to, it seems like a pain.

"From what I've heard, pegasi are more like geese than horses," he says. "I doubt she would have come with you so easily if she didn't recognize you at all."

Geese are terribly territorial, after all, and from what Claude had said, so are pegasi. Prone to chasing wyvern out of their territory, and even if wyvern aren't quite as fearsome in Fodlan as they are on the Continent, that's no small feat. And she's even tolerating his touch on her neck without much fuss, that seems like an animal that's at least passingly familiar with him.

Geralt finishes brushing Roach down, taking advantage of her nonchalant attitude while it lasts. Thankfully, Roach arrived with his saddlebags still on her, so he has all of the tools to take care of her with him, and a few other things besides.

"You can use my grooming kit, if you want to try to brush her down," he says. "Over in my saddlebags. Don't open the black one."

That's his potion bag-- there's nothing in there that Dimitri would want, and quite a lot that could poison him. Dimitri, at least, he thinks will listen better than Jaskier or Claude; the former nearly poisoned himself on more than one occasion by poking around in there.

It is one thing to tell himself things he knows must be logical, against his own inner pessimism. It is another thing entirely to hear Geralt say such words in that calm and certain way of his, and Dimitri's shoulders ease up as he listens. That's right. She's being good to him for a reason, and he has to remember that. And, well, take it to heart as best he can.

"Thank you for the generous offer," he says, meaning it. "I suppose that means I should finally relieve her of her armor... It must have been quite a load, but I've been hesitant to remove it from her until we were a little more certain we would stay in one place." And, well, that's still not a guarantee here, but he can't make her wear it forever.

So he ties her reins to a nearby tree branch, allowing her to graze at her leisure, and begins the task of undressing her, so to speak. The armor really is well taken care of, as best as can be expected during the middle of a war... But old, he thinks. Old, but as taken care of as can best be done.

Yes. This has to be Ingrid's. She had to take good care of her things, since there would be no telling when her family could afford a good replacement.

As he begins to set the armor carefully on the grass, he speaks back to Geralt. "May I ask what is in the black bag? If it is not too intrusive a question."

It is a generous offer-- Geralt doesn't let just anyone dig around in his bags, except for Jaskier. But that's mostly because the bard had no concept of boundaries and got his hands into all of Geralt's things, for better or worse. Should Dimitri look through said bags, he'd likely find at least a chemise stuffed in there that definitely doesn't belong to Geralt.

There are a few minutes of companionable silence as Dimitri untacks the pegasus, removing the various bits of armor and laying them out, and Geralt works on untangling Roach's mane. Both mounts seem mostly content to graze and presumably think about whatever it is that horses think about, letting their caretakers concern themselves with their wellbeing.

There's a moment after Dimitri asks that Geralt considers whether he'll answer; he doesn't, as a general rule, tell people about things like witcher potions. There had been plenty of men who would have gladly seized on any ounce of knowledge about his kind to use it against them, so silence had been a prudent defense. But this is also Dimitri, a man who has no reason to use this knowledge against him, and they are in a realm that is indifferent to witchers. Nor is it even certain that Geralt will remain this way, so the matter of potions may very well become a moot one when he returns to being as human as anyone else.

"Potions," he says, after that pause. "Not for humans. They'll enhance strength and stamina for witchers, but many of the ingredients are poisonous. We can burn through the toxic effects quickly enough that it won't harm us."

Well, not unless Geralt takes enough of it, anyway. Even a witcher's metabolism can be overwhelmed if he drinks too many potions in too short a period of time. Some of the side-effects can be difficult as well-- Cat, for instance, will allow him to see in almost total pitch darkness, but normal daylight would blind him until it wore off. An exploitable weakness, were someone to try to set a trap for witchers.

While Geralt considers on if he's going to answer or not - Dimitri is half expecting a refusal, which would be fine - he goes over to the bag that Geralt had mentioned in the first place. It's a nice, sensible bag, he thinks. One that's clearly had a good deal of use, and lasted through the years. Really, he's almost jealous. Johto has a lot of very good bags, and different materials to make them, of course. Still... There's just something about a nice, sturdy, leather bag that can't be beat.

When he'd had bags back in Fodlan, well.. He couldn't complain about anything he got, or that he took off of the bodies of Imperial soldiers.

Those dark thoughts are put to the side for a moment when, as he goes through the bag, he runs into something much softer and fine than brushes for a horse. Blinking, Dimitri holds up the chemise slightly. This doesn't seem like Geralt's taste... Jaskier? Did it get mixed up when they were packing their things? Were they in a hurry? It has been a very strange day or two...

Ah, an answer - Dimitri turns his head to look back at Geralt as he explains what's in the black bag, and he nods. "I see," he says. "I will make sure that my winged companion, and any of my Paliens if I run into them again, do not get in there." If it's not good for humans, it's not good for Pokemon.... probably. Then again, some of the native berries seem to work the same way...

Dimitri blinks and remembers what he's holding in his hand, and quickly pushes it back into the bag so that he can take the grooming equipment instead. "You know, back in Fodlan, there are vulneraries, and elixirs, that are used for matters of healing. I wish I could tell you more about them, but I was never really an alchemist."

It's definitely not Geralt's shirt; it's white, for one thing, and has embroidery. The seasons may change, but Geralt's black wardrobe doesn't. Not only is it something that's Jaskier's, it's also in Roach's saddlebags-- bags that he didn't have access to before Roach showed up here with them. Their things have been mixed up in his bags for years, not just for the few months that they've been traveling around Johto, Kanto, and the islands.

Dimitri proves again that, when in possession of his faculties, he can behave reasonably-- it's also for the best to keep any curious Pokemon out of Geralt's potion bag. He doesn't know what effects they might have on the creatures here, but he doubts it would be anything good, and best case scenario, they'd be dealing with a violently ill animal. Not fun for anyone.

"I've similar concoctions," he says. He's part-way through Roach's mane, but she's getting testy. Every once in a while, she'll swat at him with her tail like he's a troublesome fly; unlike a fly, he doesn't move. "Called Swallow. It accelerates healing in mutants."

Another moment or two goes by; Roach swats him again. Geralt continues to detangle her mane as though she isn't swatting at him.

"Tastes like shit." A useful addition. "Chunky, too, if you don't strain the brains out first."

And this is why you don't drink witcher potions.

Mutants is an interesting way of phrasing things, Dimitri reflects as he takes the appropriate brushes over to the pegasus. It hits him that he doesn't really know that much about witchers, but he had somewhat assumed it was something of an occupation. Like a hunter, or a mercenary, but unique to the land Geralt is from. Yet mutant....

And then Geralt mentions the brains, and Dimitri pauses.

"It has occurred to me, just now, that I have never asked if there are brains in the average elixir," he finally says. "I wonder if I should, now, or simply be glad that it does its job."

Probably the latter. Probably the best that he stays ignorant on the whole affair. It's a kind of bliss, isn't it? Dimitri actually isn't sure about that saying most of the time, but he'll accept it for this particular case.

For now, however, there is the pegasus to groom, and Dimitri finally starts his task. There was nothing to deal with feathers in Geralt's pack, because why would there be, but that's fine. At most, some of them look a bit ruffled from her earlier anxiety. Hopefully she'll get to preening them in a bit, and he can take care of the ones near the base of her body as he's brushing her over.

Dimitri wouldn't be the first person who doesn't question what's in their medicine for their own peace of mind. In some cases, ignorance may truly be bliss.

"If they're anything like what I'm familiar with," he says, "the ones for humans are likely just herbal. Perhaps magic-infused, if they're potent. No monster parts."

Too toxic, once again. But who knows, maybe the ones in his world are made with all sorts of nasty bits from all sorts of creatures. Maybe every time Dimitri's knocked back one of those concoctions, he's been imbibing blood and bile and eye of fucking newt.

"Plenty of herbal shit tastes worse than drowner brains, though. Brain's actually pretty bland."

He finishes with Roach's mane, and as he walks towards her hind to detangle her tail, she smacks him with it again. He catches it, so really all she accomplished was giving it to him to work on; he tells her to settle and she snorts, almost as though she understood what he said and has responded with a huff. A few more minutes pass in peace.

"So your realm has pegasi and wyvern," he says. "What other creatures? Proper monsters, I mean."

Unless Fodlan is particularly blessed and only has normal, everyday dangers like bears and wolves and mountain lions.

"Oh, I wouldn't know," Dimitri says mildly before he can think to rework those words. Well, hopefully it's nothing too obvious. For now, Dimitri just runs a soft brush along the pegasus's hide, and murmurs soft nothings to her. She seems a lot more content than she was only a few hours ago, he's glad to say, and well trained enough to give him no trouble. Perhaps this was all she needed: some familiar company and a bit of loving care.

And very particular care, as the brush goes a little more along near one wing. It shifts a bit, and she pauses in her grazing to cast one wary eye upon him. More murmured reassurances, his fingers replacing the brush near where feathers first start to sprout.

He almost misses Geralt's question because of it, and his fingers freeze so that his mind can backtrack on the conversation. "Well, if I am honest, it almost feels hard to say, now that I know the existence of other realms such as this. For example, where I am from, many of the creatures here would be called monsters, while others are simply a different kind of horse, or others evil spirits. So now I'm left to wonder what other creatures we took for granted in Fodlan. Still, I will do my best."

It will just take a moment, Dimitri gently sorting through the base feathers of the wing. What other creatures indeed... "Faerghus in particular is home to boar, deer, wolves, hares... What you would normally find in that sort of land. Birds of prey tend to especially like our land, for all the mountainous areas, and the same could be said of goats." Something hits him, then - the coat of arms for the kingdom. "Oh - there used to be griffons in Faerghus as well, a very long time ago, when the Kingdom was first founded. I do not think they were native, however..."

He's pretty sure they were a Sreng beast, actually, but he supposes that makes sense. Sreng and the Kingdom have always been interlocked, although rarely in any good way.

Still, that has him think of something else. "There are creatures I have heard of from other lands, although I cannot speak from experience and only stories I've heard. There is an island nation, Brigid, where apparently they deal with enormous spiders as large as livestock, at the very least. Across the sea is an enormous continent called Dagda, and apparently they have aerial steeds of their own called Kinshi. I've heard they're large bird-like creatures."

Griffins are a monster that Geralt is quite familiar with-- he's had to deal with quite a number of them in his eight decades on the path. Outside of creatures like drowners and nekkers, they're the ones that Geralt is most likely to get a contract for, as their territorial natures drive them to attack humans that unintentionally wander into their hunting grounds. It sounds as though they've been hunted to extinction in Faerghus, or at the very least have migrated to areas that are beyond human occupation. There's something... unfortunate in the loss of such a creature, even if they're troublesome to humans. It's not the griffin's fault, after all, that humans invaded their habitat.

While Geralt doesn't know exactly what creature a kinshi might be on the Continent, he does know about giant spiders. Perhaps more than he'd like.

"Arachnomorphs," he says. "Post-Conjunction beasts. I've dealt with some of the smaller varieties, though they're still too big for my tastes."

He'll deal with them, but he doesn't have to like it. Arachnomorphs are a pain to fight-- they're quick, like to spray webbing to bind up their prey, and have an almost admirable grasp on hit-and-run tactics. It makes them a nightmare to fight in large groups, and they are very rarely alone. But it is interesting that Dimitri's world seems to have both pre- and post-Conjunction beasts; perhaps there was a similar cataclysm in their world. Or perhaps they have just always been there, native to that land.

"There's a type that the bestiaries usually call arachnomorph colossi, though I'd imagine normal folk would just call them big fucking spiders. Large enough to devour an ox in seconds, bones and all."

Geralt hasn't encountered one of those yet, and he's not in a hurry to.

"What of creatures like werewolves, vampires, or necrophages?" Well, that last might not be a term that Dimitri recognizes; Geralt corrects himself. "Ghouls and such. Monsters that inhabit cemeteries and battlefields and feed on the remains."

"Well, that sounds like an absolute nightmare," Dimitri says matter of factly. He has learned a great deal more about giant spiders than he wants to, although he stores the name away. Perhaps if Petra ever arrived...

...Well, hopefully she would not think him too monstrous, and would tell him more of the beasts that he's heard are from her lands. Tell him if he's gotten anything mixed up, or fallen prey to some silly rumor.

At the question, there's a pause as Dimitri thinks back. Werewolves... Something like Grant. Yet that secret is not his to spill so easily.

"There are no vampires or werewolves in Faerghus," he says, confident of that much at least. "As for necrophages, or ghouls... We have stories, of course, like any place." A pause, a hesitation. It's been a day, stressful, and - There's a lot going through his mind. Things others have told him aren't real, and that he has to remind himself of even if he's certain.

Mostly it's about ghosts. Which are not the same thing as necrophages anyway, he reminds himself sternly. Different things.

The pegasus snorts, shifts her wing so that it bumps into him lightly - not enough to hurt either of them, but enough to make her annoyance known. Dimitri shakes himself out of it. Right, right. Back to grooming, and he moves along her body.

"There are ghost stories and the like, but nothing I have heard of that is real," Dimitri says. "But I can only speak of my own experience, and my experience is limited. I did not think I would ever come across a dragon, and then I apparently saw one when another country began to wage war on us. I never knew what happened of it."

What a world, that doesn't have vampires or werewolves in it, and where necrophages are only a thing found in stories instead of very real monsters that haul their bloated bodies out of waterways to try to drown witchers who don't get paid enough for this shit.

There is a momentary pause before Dimitri continues; it's long enough to take note of. He is dismissive of ghosts when he speaks again, but Geralt remembers the things that Felix told him about Faerghus' holy church and its teachings. The cruel dogma that proclaimed that the regretful dead were doomed to purgatory until their surviving kin freed them through vengeance.

It's for the best, then, that he doesn't mention the times that he's fought with restless spirits. Wraiths are one of the most common monsters that a witcher will come across, mostly because they're usually the product of men-- the murdered bride, the victim of a spurned lover, the sibling killed in jealousy. He does not tell him about the specter that the bestiaries refer to as a Penitent, a rare wraith that haunts the perpetrator of nefarious deeds. Or even rarer, a Hym-- a specter that inhabits more than just the material sphere, and who possesses men who have committed some atrocity, feeding off of their guilt and driving them mad through visions and voices while doing no physical harm to them.

Yes. It's for the best that Dimitri remains ignorant of such things. And, really, what good would that knowledge do for him? Wraiths probably don't exist in his realm, just as ghouls and drowners don't. And all the better for Fodlan, because the Church that Dimitri ascribes to seems to dole out guilt enough for anyone.

"I've only met a dragon once," he says, seizing the opportunity to gloss over the whole ghost thing. And Jaskier says he has no social graces. "I didn't realize that he was one for quite a while, because he kept the form of a man. He convinced me to go along with him on a dragon hunt."

Oh, is that how it went, Geralt. Did Borch convince you, or did you initially refuse before you found out that Yennefer was going to be on the same hunt and let your dick do the thinking for you?

"It was shit from start to finish. If you want my advice, steer clear of dragons."

So, notes from professional monster hunters: getting involved with dragons is a shitshow from start to finish. Dimitri keeps that in mind.

Still, he supposes he's not entirely against dragons - not the one he met, who went off against the invading Imperial army. For anyone that could go against those sorts of wretched, revolting-

Dimitri pauses in his brushing, jaw a little clenched, before he reminds himself to breath. Getting angry at those kinds of memories... Doesn't really help.

Besides, there's something curious that Geralt said. "So dragons can take the shape of people?"

There's a moment where Geralt catches a whiff of something sharp and bitter from Dimitri's scent, but it quickly calms. A momentary agitation. He can't be sure exactly what that brief emotion was, or whether it was connected to the dragon talk or something that he has associated with it in his mind.

It seems unimportant right now. Humans have many kinds of little flare-ups of emotion; it happens to Jaskier all the time.

"Only one kind of dragon can, that I know of," he replies. "Golden dragons. They're rare enough that I had thought them extinct until I met one. I believe he's technically capable of shapeshifting into many different forms, but he seemed to prefer a human shape."

Geralt does not mention that he told said golden dragon that golden dragons don't exist, because that is absolutely Not Important Information. It has nothing to do with the fact that it was also deeply embarrassing at the time.

He does wonder, though, what became of Borch and his child. They had saved the egg even though they hadn't been able to save its mother; would it be green or golden? Perhaps it doesn't matter, dragons are rare regardless of their species.

"There's a land that worships dragons as gods," he continues. "I don't know much about the religion, other than that they believe the world was created by dragons and all of the temples in the Queendom are managed by priestesses."

Dimitri hadn't even known there were more than one kind of dragon, although he supposes he shouldn't be surprised either. It isn't as though this was his line of work or interest back in Fodlan, and he supposes there is a lot he doesn't know about... Especially outside of his homeland.

Although he makes a small hum, starting at the pegasus's mane now as he works. She permits it with only a slight shifting of her wings as though in warning.

"That is interesting... The Church of Seiros had a coat of arms, and they included a dragon as a part of it. The Immaculate One, to be exact. It was a part of legends, and said to be the child of the Goddess, a protective force."

Dimitri pauses, and realizes... Oh. Oh, so was that what that dragon was?

...He's feeling kind of stupid for only now realizing it, actually.

Recovering from that, he tries to recall what else has been said about dragons. "There always seemed to be discussion on whether dragons are real or not, I think.... Although I am not well versed in such talks. Some believed them to be legends, others believed them to be real but extinct, and others thought they might have just been particularly large wyverns that were mistaken for other beasts." Dimitri shakes his head. "But from my memories of seeing a real one... They are a considerably different creature."

"Wyvern are occasionally mistaken for dragons on the Continent, as well," he says. "Mostly by people who haven't seen either before. And then they usually try to stiff me for my pay when I tell them that it was just a wyvern."

Though, really, people tried to stiff him all of the time, so it's not like it's something that only happens when there's confusion over the taxonomy of a monster. It lessened after Jaskier started singing ballads about him, and was at its lowest when the bard was actually traveling with him, but occasionally happened regardless. And, really, it was only lower when Jaskier was around because the bard would sometimes take a swing at anyone who insulted him.

"A dragon is a powerful ally to have," he adds. "And one that I doubt would decide to join your conflict on a whim. Someone has friends in high places."

And that's not a pun, though it could possibly be construed as one.

"Ha." Whether or not Geralt means it as a joke, Dimitri will accept it for one, ducking his head down to stop his smile. That's one way to make light of such a bizarre and serious situation.

Still, friends in high places, hm? There's one person who he always thinks about, even now, this far from Fodlan. Someone who always had the strange and outrageous happen in their presence. If someone like that could cut their way through the fabric of the world...

"Perhaps it was drawn to our professor," he suggests, detangling some of the pegasus's mane. "They seem blessed by the Goddess, in many ways. It may have drawn the attention of such a creature, especially during such a frantic time."

"Your professor?"

Well, they did all go to an officer's school, so it's not surprising that he had teachers, or that they'd be called professor. But this sounds like a very particular person, more Professor as a title rather than just a description of their job.

"I haven't heard any of you talk about this person before." Felix hadn't, anyway, and this is the first time that Dimitri's brought them up in his presence. "What made them so different?"

Blessed by the goddess. Well, Geralt doesn't know about all that, but this person must be something special if they potentially have dragons for allies and have Dimitri's regard. If it turns out that they have Felix's, too, Geralt might just think that they really are superhuman.

So not even Felix has spoken about the Professor before... Well, with how razor focused his lover can get when it comes to challenging himself, Dimitri can't say he's surprised there. Carefully, he moves from the pegasus's haunches, and begins to take care of her tail. He doesn't think she'll kick him, but still. Best to position himself carefully, just in case.

"I suppose it was simply one of those things that didn't come up," Dimitri says simply. Sometimes that is how conversations work, and it's nothing much more than that.

"But our Professor... Byleth Eisner. They were always a mysterious person. I've told you about Crests, and they had one that had not been seen in a person for... many years. Centuries, not since it's first owner, perhaps. Yet they were not the child of a noble. This does happen, of course - sometimes Crests go dormant in bloodlines for a while, and return suddenly in someone distantly related. Yet for that Crest of Flames... Well, that was something a bit more unique."

The pegasus snorts, finally stretches out her neck and wings both, and Dimitri pauses so that she's not annoyed by anything he's doing with her tail. "That, and their compatibility with the weapon associated with it, well, that made them noticeable to start with. The Crest of Flames, and the Sword of the Creator - their names speak for themselves.

"And then, during the school year, there was... a plot, of some sort. One we couldn't have realized the extent of back then..." Another burn of anger, betrayal, and Dimitri tries to take a breath. That's what the books say to do, isn't it? To breathe? "There was a... spell. Or a ritual, perhaps. It disappeared them through some sort of portal, and... There was a moment where we thought we might have lost them forever. But then they cut through space itself, and returned to us. Their hair and eyes were changed, after that... But they were still themself."

A mysterious person with a long-lost Crest of particular notoriety and the ability to use an ancient relic, arriving to teach a group of noble children who would decide the future of the continent. It sounds like something out of a myth. Things like that don't happen in real life, do they? Except, perhaps, it does in Dimitri's world, with this Byleth Eisner. A person who could cut through space itself.

"That's a remarkable tale," he says, "and if anyone else told it to me, I might not have believed it."

But he doesn't think Dimitri would-- or even really could-- lie about it. He's not like Jaskier, who can spin a whole tale out of whole cloth. His honesty and earnestness are... refreshing. There's a comfort in knowing exactly where you stand with someone.

"I suppose now all of us have the experience of being plucked across space and time," he continues, and finishes with combing through Roach's tail. He leaves it loose instead of plaiting it, so she can easily swat at flies and, occasionally, still him. "Perhaps if your professor ever showed up here, they might be able to cut us all back to our proper worlds."

And while some people might prefer to stay in this realm, with its conveniences and peacefulness, there are doubtless plenty others who would rather go home. And even others like Geralt, who might live a kinder life here but has an obligation to return. And, really, what good is a monster hunter with no monsters to hunt?

"Ha!" What else can he do but laugh in the face of such a response? It's true, after all. Unbelievable things often happen in the world, but rarely were they something that could be plucked straight from a child's fairy tale. Dimitri can't say he doesn't understand. The more time he spent with them, it seemed the stranger the world became with them in it.

The world also became better for them being in it, he's fairly certain, so he'll gladly take the bizarre nature of their lives together.

"I suppose they would have to know where to cut, or however it is one traverses different worlds," Dimitri muses as he keeps working. "If they arrive here like all of us do, then perhaps it would not work... Our weapons do not come with us when we arrive in this place, after all, and I imagine the power behind the sword was what helped them. Well, I can only theorize on that."

But if they could all go home, exactly as they are... Avoid the threat of forgetting that Sylvain told them...

What things could change?

Dimitri tries not to think too deeply on it, lest he get lost in his own thoughts. That is a trap he has fallen into many times before, with little good ever coming out of it. Best to focus on the present, not in the least so that he doesn't get kicked by a pegasus.

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