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[ Open ] FIELD TRIP FIELD TRIP FIELD TRIP

WHO: Everyone!
WHERE: The forest!
WHEN: Backdated to the 20^th–21^st
WHAT: Some knights lead an expedition into the forest to find a chicken
WARNINGS: Probably nothing…for now

[ Upon the 20^th, a new message pops up on the network feed, from a certain #6363F9. ]

This is Archer. Due to the efforts of Sir Berkut and I, we have uncovered yet another clue as to the history of this realm.

Many of you might remember the sorry tale spoken of by #FFFFFF himself. We learned a great deal about that young man of Blue and the path he had taken into the forest. A few days ago, the locations of certain landmarks have been made known to us. We propose to conduct an expedition into the forest in search of the hen of legend, that we may yet find some way of learning this world’s history and perhaps prevent the forest from encroaching into town.

Needless to say, the journey will be difficult. We have need of fighters as well as healers, cooks, navigators, and others of the sort. If you wish to join, you will find us assembled at the edge of the forest north of Flavo at dawn. You may address your queries to me. Thank you.

[ And sure enough, there will be a small party already gathered at the appointed place at the dawn of the 21^st. Tristan will be happy to welcome you into the group since Berkut’s going to be a sourpuss about this no matter what. :’( ]

Preparations
[ This is where everyone’s getting briefed before heading out into the forest. You’ll be given the necessary infodump as well as a few instructions.

Using the remainder of his ink, Berkut has drafted a serviceable map noting the various landmarks and overall direction, which others are free to peruse and from which they can take notes of their own. Pry the map from his cold, dead hands though (unless you're Tristan). In addition, you will be instructed to gather supplies here before heading out. Characters should bring their own food and the like, or be prepared to forage/hunt in the forest. Expecting freebies from others is poor form!

Once the preliminaries are done, you’re free to spend the remainder of this time however you wish. Offer to team up with someone, question the party leaders, find a meat shield to hide behind, draw up your own maps, or simply give the intrepid adventurers a hearty sendoff! ]

The Forest
[ The adventure begins! Though it won’t be too strictly enforced (at least where Tristan is concerned), you will be instructed to please walk in something that even halfway resembles a formation. Healers and support to the center; those with combat experience to the vanguard, rear, and flank; the works. Or don't. Berkut will only judge and not be responsible if Keigo loses his head (thus spoke Tristan, "How sad"). Maimed limbs and lost teeth are not covered by the field trip's healing insurance.

Unfortunately, the forest seen in their visions is different from the present-day location, so finding the right path won’t be easy! You might want to break up into teams to search out specific landmarks and other useful stuff as you make the trek, or help set up camp when the group takes a rest stop, or fight off whatever forest creatures happen to stumble your way! Or maybe try to liven up the trip with a little game of Eye-Spy or even outright sneak off on your own adventures! No one’s going to judge—okay, Berkut might judge a little.

Whatever the case, it’s going to take a long time and a lot of trial and error to find the clues the forest has hidden away. ]

The Destination
[ The strength of your bonds will eventually prevail, however, as you finally locate a large stone covered in strange mossy patterns. You will be informed that the site of the hen must be very near. You’ll have to suffer through a thorny, overgrown path like in the story, but hey, nothing like a trial to strengthen your bonds, right?

Of course, once you reach the fabled site of the chicken, you’ll find…nothing! Wow, that was a waste of time. Feel free to search around just in case though, or set up camp and rest for the night. It’ll be a long and grueling journey back to town. ]

OOC: As part of the ongoing event, Berkut and Tristan have combined their inks to recreate a vision based on #FFFFFF’s forum post. Further details here and here!

TL;DR version:

There is a way to find the location of the chicken from the story, but it definitely won't be easy.
Strong bonds with people of a lot of colors will make the search easier.
The journey itself will probably last only a day or two, but that’s not set in stone, so feel free to fudge timelines if you want.
The chicken won’t actually be there, though, since the conditions aren’t right for its reappearance. However, those who enter the chicken area will, according to the mods, “have a very strong sense that there WILL be something there at some point… just not yet.”
Basically, consider this an open mingle that’s available to everyone whether or not they have CR with Tristan or Berkut. Have fun, get lost, take pictures—you do you!

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He had been prepared for Wei Wuxian to act like a whiny brat, knowing that he had very little defenses against the man even then.

But this…

He leans over to block the man’s view with a frown of concern.

“You are serious now,” he points out, wondering if perhaps the forest had been playing a trick on him after all—if not on Wei Wuxian. This isn’t like him at all, and knowing what this forest is capable of, perhaps the few healers who’d joined their party might not be enough to bring him back.

“And I have always taken you seriously. So tell me now what ails you, my friend, for it breaks my heart to see you thus.”

His view thus blocked, he turns his head away and to the side. Archer had certainly come upon his "Drama Queen" title honestly. But as he turns his head, his gaze alights unintentionally on a person a little ways away, whose hair is as bright as the campfire flame. A quick sigh escapes him...

With a sudden, frenetic burst of energy, he arches his back and throws his arms about Archer's neck, on purpose to yank the man down on top of him.

"Hahahahahaha!" It's the first time he's laughed the whole trip. Perhaps that's the reason why it comes out forced. "Complaining about your own broken heart, when you're the one breaking them? That kind of person, do they deserve anyone's sympathy?
Hahahahaha!"

Wait, what—

“Oof!” And down he goes before he even realizes what’s going on (spoilers: he never does). Really, even his attempts to understand the man keep ending in such abject failure!! How sad…

“I suppose…not.” Just what is he supposed to say to all that, anyway? But even then, a part of him does understand that heartbreak takes on many forms, including laughter, which is surely how the man must be coping.

But who would he be heartbroken for? Certainly not…

“Forgive me. I had no intention of breaking your heart. Indeed, I had never known…”

Oof indeed. Archer's bulk falls on top of him all at once, knocking the breath out of him, and he feels that he's lifted a rock only to drop it on his own foot. And yet... there's a part of him that feels he's not attached to the world or to life, a part of him that still recalls the chaos of existing as a primordial spirit, aware but unthinking and uncomprehending. Being pinned down like this feels like an anchor, some kind of secure attachment. He takes a deep breath and exhales, his tight grip on the man's neck loosening.

"Didn't I just tell you not to take me seriously? If I... if I love you..." He pauses; the word feels so strange on his tongue, and part of him wonders how Archer can say such a thing so casually, even if the man isn't talking about that kind of love. He takes another breath, "If I love you, then it's exactly the same way that you... love me."

A small, awkward pause, and then he loosens his grip entirely to pat the man on the back. "Don't worry about it! Really!"

Well it’s nice to clear that up, if nothing else. Straddling him like this…it is indeed a compromising position, though probably not for the reasons Wei Wuxian might think. Still, he doesn’t move away when Wuxian relaxes his hold.

He lets out a sigh. “You once told me that saying ‘don’t worry’ will have the opposite effect. And you are not wrong.”

He pulls away at last, to regain his seat beside Wei Wuxian.

“If you love me, then you can also lean on me.” And not just for dogs, at that.

Part of him feels empty when Archer pulls away; his warmth was comforting, and somehow this summer night feels cold with it gone. He sits up also; and then scoots close and leans over, resting his head on Archer's shoulder, as if he's taking the man's words literally.

Mutant cicadas call in the night.

After a while, he murmurs, "What's your name?" He shifts his position a little, lifting his head up and resting it again. "I pretended to know it, but the truth is, I don't."

“My name?”

Somehow, he’d known that was coming. Tristan finds himself leaning against Wei Wuxian in a show of brotherly solidarity, relieved that at least the man is willing to concede to this much. No jokes, no attempts to brush him off. Just an honest question.

He could almost laugh, if the situation here didn’t call for such gravity.

“I must admit that I was alarmed when you tricked me into believing that you learned my True Name. But in truth, I was…happy. Here was something that we could both share, as friends must. And so I give my name to you freely and with gladness in my heart: it is Tristan.”

"Tristan," he says. And then he repeats, "Tristan," more slowly this time, as if he were testing the way the word feels in his mouth. This word, this simple name: it's a fur-trimmed cloak settled about his shoulders, still warm from the giver's body, shielding him from the snow. He's spent his life yearning for closeness, but at the same time always managing to push everyone away. It's strange how close this name makes him feel, to another. To Tristan.

Just now he'd assumed that Tristan used the word "love" the way anyone else would mean "like," but it occurs to him that might not be true. If he thinks about it, he's done and said all the wrong things to Tristan. Yet, the man's sincere kindness has withstood his nonsense, standing steadfast against it like a sturdy tree against a tempest, letting the wind flow through his branches and reaching for the heavens once more... and then afterwards offering shade, without desiring anything in return. That is love, selfless and kind.

"If I've ever made you happy, or put gladness into your heart... then, that's good. I'm happy, too."

If you love me, then lean on me.

"I love you."

He exhales: it's a long sigh, as if he could breathe out out his soul.

"I've done something terrible."

Some part of him should be worried that Wei Wuxian will never let him live that down. After all, he hadn’t been deaf to how constantly the man had called after Nero’s True Name.

But right now, for a very rare moment in his life, he’s too happy to brood on such things. Love…Love is such a wonderful thing. It warms his heart to know that even in his afterlife, he can experience something like this. Something so intensely profound and intimate. When he had first given his True Name to his master, it had been for the sake of preserving humanity.

But here…

“Then speak, my friend, and know that Sir Tristan of Lyonesse has never betrayed the secrets of those he loves.”

Sir Tristan of Lyonesse. He has no idea what that means, but the title is somehow soothing; so too, the repetition of that sentiment, love. His eyes drift shut, covering up the dancing flames of the campfire. In this self-imposed darkness, he confesses.

"Don't ask me for details. Don't try to guess them, either. The other side of the story isn't mine to tell. I broke something precious. I hurt someone I adore. I was stupid, thoughtless, and distracted, and failed to see what I've been looking for my whole life."

In his first life, how many times had he thought to himself, if only I had a maiden's true love, my life won't have been in vain. What bitter irony!

“Wei Wuxian…”

And just like that, it all comes crashing down on him. Evidently, he’s not been a very good friend if something like this blindsided him. Bubbly, confident Wei Wuxian somehow suffering from love troubles? And from the looks of things, it is quite dire indeed…

His first guess is that it must be Nero—that the man is attracted to her is clear enough, and yet…no. He’s going on too little information here, and Wuxian isn’t asking for advice right now. Only consolation.

So Tristan pulls away a little to bring a hand up to Wuxian’s shoulder in solidarity. This way, he can better meet the man’s eyes as well—

“How sad…I am no stranger to such things myself, so by all means, allow me to shoulder this burden with you, for experience tells me that it is too great to bear alone.”

He recalls the conversation he'd had with Tristan, all those months ago, where he'd admitted to a love affair with the bride of his uncle the king, thus betraying someone he loved and threatening the peace of two nations. The sadness and guilt from this chaotic entanglement has followed the man through his life and death.

Unburdening himself, won't that add to Tristan's troubles?

"How sad," he echoes back, his lashes drooping, as if he can't hold the man's gaze. The corners of his mouth twitch, as his mask begins to slide back into place. "Here I was excited about putting some gladness in your heart, but it's gone again!"

Again, he’s trying to change the subject. It’s hard not to feel a pang for it, though he knows that it is simply in Wuxian’s nature, just as it is in him to find the saddest things in life.

“Would you have wanted me to laugh at your blunders?” He’s a little hurt at the implications of that. He knows that Wei Wuxian is taking him seriously, but shutting him out like this isn’t going to help either of them at all.

“You have shouldered the burden of my past once. Why must I be barred from doing the same for you?”

"Maybe you should. Maybe you should laugh at me. I've always had a reputation as a ladies' man, but to fail so thoroughly, it's funny. Ha...haha."

His face twists into a smile. It's his attempt at fixing on his mask, putting it firmly in place, but even as he speaks, it slips. His voice betrays him, his light laugh faltering.

"It... it would be funny, if I were the only one... if only. If only I'd been the one. The only one who suffered. I dragged someone else into it. Into my own disasters. I always do that. Why do I always do that?"

Now he looks up, his eyes filled with emotion, desperate, like a drowning man clutching wildly at his rescuer, mindlessly threatening to bring them both down.

"How do I stop? Do you know the answer? Can you tell me?"

To see Wei Wuxian in a rare moment of weakness…it’s heart-wrenching. The man had always been the kind to fill his world with laughter, but unlike with Nero this came from despair, not defiance. And Tristan understands that all too well.

“Alas, I do not.” Now he feels like crying too. “I was never able to challenge my fate in life. And even in death…”

He shakes his head, thinking of Mythra’s hair still tied to his harp, of Artoria who’d tried so hard to forgive what could not be forgiven.

As he'd feared, sharing his own troubles is too much for this man, who himself has suffered so much. He quickly schools his expression, shoving his own worries to the back of his mind, and reaches out, to cup the side of Tristan's face.

"Hey. I know there isn't an answer, to that kind of question. I can't blame fate or anything. It was the wrong question, anyway. What I ought to be wondering is what exactly I did wrong, and how to do better next time."

Adding to his own litany of regrets is upsetting this kind soul with a heart of glass. He really should have known better.

"I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry."

He sighs, leaning into that touch. Learning from one’s mistakes is an honorable goal, but he can’t exactly agree with everything else. Why must a man so shameless be so insistent upon hiding his true feelings like this?

“I am always sad.” Just so they’re clear on that front. It’s not something he can help, being dead and set in his ways, but Wuxian doesn’t need to know the specifics of Heroic Spirit Summoning right now.

“And…Wei Wuxian, do you think it is truly so terrible to be sad? Perhaps you might give yourself permission to be sad as well.”

His eyes lid and his gaze clouds. As if an invisible weight were pressing down upon him, his head bows. And then, with a sharp intake of breath, he straightens himself and opens his eyes. There's a forced cheer in his voice.

"The things that make someone sad, that's what's terrible. If I let myself... if I give in to it, to sadness, then that won't help. It won't help me, it won't help anyone else. I can't fix anything, if I'm busy being sad."

His thumb moves slightly, an absentminded caress upon Tristan's cheek.

"But... if I can't do anything. If the situation can't be fixed, then... then I might feel a little sad."

There is a fine line between sadness and despair, as Tristan’s realized, even if he can’t always see the difference between them. But he’s one thing and Wei Wuxian…

He shakes his head, inadvertently jostling Wuxian’s hand off his cheek. Despite that motion, however, he replies, “I cannot say I disagree.”

Wei Wuxian’s reasoning is sound. Indeed, it’s far better than simply bemoaning and lamenting Fate as Tristan has often done. And yet…something about this feels so wrong and he can’t quite say why.

“But I hope that, at the very least, you will still rely me for help when you need it. Even for the little things.” He knows he can’t ask for too much here. He never could.

He lets his hand fall and sits pensive for a long moment, gazing at the middle distance beyond where Tristan is sitting. There's a loud pop of pine sap and the campfire logs shift, changing the firelight and its shadows.

Presently he looks up again. His features, warmly lit, have smoothed out and softened. "I have. I do. I will. You've always been there to help me, even from when I first arrived here. I only hope that I can return the favor one day."

He sits back, propping himself up on his hands, and stretching out his legs.

"Now how about that song? You promised to sing it!"

And he’ll have to be satisfied with that, he thinks. Which is fine, since there is still much about Wei Wuxian that he does not know, that he does not feel right to pry into. He of all people know well the value of secrets, after all.

“Very well,” he sighs, smiling. Whether or not Saber (or, heaven forbid, Mordred) is within earshot doesn’t matter in the face of a promise like that, after all. But you’ll forgive him for changing things up a little now that he’s sober. As he begins strumming his harp, the music is noticeably slower, more restrained than his madcap playing during the New Year’s party.

The lyrics are still the same bawdy mess that they are—he can’t help that—but it’s sung with much more reverence now, rather like he’s singing a hymn instead of belting out some rough folksy tune for the taverns. He doesn’t need to sing a joyous song to bring joy to Wei Wuxian; he knows that his friend’s heart must be put at ease first and foremost, and the cheer will come after.

Anyway the song can apply to the damn chicken, so there’s going to be some poetic justice here either way.

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