[SEMI-OPEN] took a power trip
WHO? Achilles, Ryuji, Siegfried, Chiron, Bucky, and perhaps others (there's an open prompt!)
WHAT? National Convention mission and the aftermath
WHEN? 1792 Paris
ANYTHING ELSE?
WHAT? National Convention mission and the aftermath
WHEN? 1792 Paris
ANYTHING ELSE?

[OPEN] got me open all night
[ Guess who discovered that he can make a decent living playing music in the higher-class areas of Paris?
This is how he's going to get by: getting picked up by lonely, rich housewives whose husbands who have fled Paris on "business" and getting free reign of their estate while he's allowed to stay for a day or two.
Anyway, come sit around and listen to this fuckboy play the lyre. ]
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Oh. A private folio. There's art in every direction; on the walls, mounted and ready to be sold off, on the floor for the less than important commissions that he had been working on. An empty easel stand in the middle, with a blank canvas that's been untouched. Someone who was really into art would have died to be here. Ryuji, on the other hand is just simply happy that they haven't gotten caught yet.]
Rider...
[The coast is clear, though. His first deduction was wrong, in the end. Maybe his understanding of David was off as well. Little did he know that he was mostly famous for selling his art- that he was good at it, but maybe it wasn't the type of passion that had him awake until 2am fervently working with his brushes in hand.
Maybe this dude just did this shit for money.]
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But with no famous painter in sight now that they're in the room, it seems that plan is foiled. Ryuji is fortunate.
The door is closed behind Ryuji, shut quietly as they enter the dark room. Moonbeams stream through the glass of the window, illuminating the gorgeous paintings adorning the walls and and the works in progress laid out on the floor. Achilles idly strolls through the gaps, glancing at the pieces with fleeting interest. ]
You look pale. Did something spook you? [ Yes, he'd rather tease the boy than actually take any of this seriously. ]
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He rubs his forehead, trying to piece this together a little bit better. The next stop would have to be his bedroom, and god, did Joker go through all this painful thinking when he was leading them through infiltration? This shit is harder than it looks.]
Huh? No way. It's gonna take way more than that.
[Finally paying attention to the room they were in, he notes that whoever this David guy was, he clearly was insanely talented at what he did. Ryuji's no art critic; far, far fucking from it, but even he can appreciate being up close and personal to things that looked like they belonged in a museum, but were just randomly chilling on the floor and up against the walls.]
Looks like our target ain't here.
[He pauses, and pushes a tease right back at him.]
You gettin' all nerdy on me or something? I didn't take you for a cultured kinda guy.
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He stops only when his eyes catch a familiar name. Though romanized, his mind translates the letters easily and recognition dawns on him as swiftly as a sword being plunged into one's belly.
The Funeral Games of Patroclus.
It's such a magnificent painting, taking up the bulk of the room; he has to wonder why he hadn't taken notice of it sooner.
Ryuji's voice is white noise to him as he drowns out his own senses in favour of focusing on making sense of depicted events in the painting. The scenery isn't familiar, nor the faces of the people, but he registers the clothing and and armour as distinctly Grecian. This is an homage to the Illiad.
He's been effectively caught off-guard, surprise evident in his furrowing features. Unconsciously, he reaches out to run a gloved thumb over the image of the fallen man being clutched by who he suspects is supposed to be him. ]
let me share my favorite poem with you https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43588/dover-beach
But his expression is what tips him off, and he stands next to him for a second, looking at what Achilles was looking at too. And, honestly, he doesn't really get what's going on here, but seeing him lift his hand up to the painting and just be caught so... enraptured with it, catches him off guard as much as the other had been surprised by the existence of this piece.
He reads the plaque below it as well. A funeral?]
Yo... yo, you okay?
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He isn't embarrassed to be caught in his own vulnerability, but he is supposed to be keeping his identity a secret. Crossing his arms, he lets out a disapproving noise. ]
Tch. [ He continues to stare at the painting, wondering what it symbolized for the painter... Were there more paintings depicting Greece in here?
He turns to look around the room. ] I need a lantern or a candle.
[ This painting is so huge that the moon is catching it from outside of the window. The rest of the room is too dark. ]
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He gives a short pace around the room, sighs, and quietly makes his way to the door. Opening it ever so ajar, he peaks through the small slit that's created to make sure that the cost is clear. This is such a bad idea.
If he takes a candle from the main foyer, then it'll be all too obvious that someone was in the gallery, so he carefully sidesteps back around the corner they originally had arrived out of. He takes a candle away from the candelabra on the wall and blows it out. In a few seconds, he's back into the entrance of the gallery, closing the door behind him. He wishes he had a key- he notices that the space underneath the frame would let light leak into the hallway, and that would also be a poor infiltration skills.
Leave it to Ryuji to be rash, impulsive, listen to his desires more than the warnings of literally everything around him. He touches the wick of the candle, whispers persona, and electrocutes it, sparks rising like a small firework as it catches on fire again.]
What the hell's gotten into you?
[And he draws closer again, the light illuminating the way and stretching its brightness over the canvas they were just in front of not too long ago.]
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His eyesight is keener than a normal human's, so he could get by with the moonlight alone, but he selfishly wants to appraise the art in better lighting. Ryuji is surprisingly obedient, leaving the room to get what he asked for, and he doesn't thank him when he returns and lights the candle. ]
Shut up for a second. [ RUDE. But another name catches his eye, and it's Hector's of all people. He's just going to march over to the painting and drop to a crouch, holding onto the carved wooden frame surrounding the picture. He's glaring daggers at the body, making another disapproving noise under his breath.
And yeah, he clutches the frame so hard it snaps a little. Oops. ]
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Shoulders slumping, he figures that it's probably best to just... let him do whatever the hell he was up to. He's about 10 seconds away from going to find David by himself, before he hears the crackling of wood. Ryuji didn't give a fuck about art, or history, for that matter, but he wasn't here to start destroying someone's hard work. What the hell about a painting could make him so pissed off that he held it tight enough to break its plating?
Huh.
Ryuji looks back to the first picture they had found, and then this one.]
...Who's Patroclus?
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Don't sulk... He's not going to notice, because he's too wrapped up in his own head. ]
He was my friend. [ Quietly, his voice a murmur. He releases his grip on the painting, gently laying it back up against the wall despite having almost broken it in half.
He holds so much contempt for Hector, but he's still a part of history and his own legacy. He can't begrudge someone for paying their respects to him through art. Maybe if they hadn't been enemies, they would have been friends. Though, he can't think of a world or life where that would have been possible, given their mutual fate. Hah, fate. He wonders how the Gods might react if they knew he was preserving it, after all his talk of hating destiny and wanting to rebel against it.
In the end, he's just a soldier, isn't he? Doing as he's told because he was promised that his compliance would make him a hero. Is he still a fool?
If only Patroclus was around to council and reassure him. ]
I loved him. [ He admits without any shame. ]
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Moving forward a step, he places a hand on Achilles' shoulder and doesn't say anything more to already ruin the mood. It's brief, but with a squeeze, he lets him have a few moments to himself.
So the person in that painting, the one who was holding him... that was Rider, wasn't it?
God, of all missions to have to be on, of course fate would bring them here. Ryuji is like Achilles in this regard, wanting to rebel against anything that's telling him what he's supposed to do. Following the path of your drum, that aesthetic is more beautiful than anything hanging on the wall in this room. He's at a loss for words, so he wanders a bit, giving him some space.
His eyes are caught by another painting, and it's eerie how all the eyes in the room seem to move with him, but this one- this particular painting doesn't hold anyone's gaze. It's simple- a man with his back turned, and as he reads the inscription below it, he sees the same name as before.
This David guy... he had an obsession. But! Hey, this is better than that painting of Hector, so he picks it up strides over to Achilles, placing it in front of the one that he had broke. Out of sight, out of mind, right?]
He looks like a cool guy.
[He loved him.
Ryuji's heart feels heavier in his ribcage. What's it like to lose someone you loved?]
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... He doesn't look like that. [ His eyes flicker to Ryuji, fondness softening his otherwise heavy brow. ]
We can use this to our advantage, though. [ A little smile... ]
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Yeah. I bet if you loved him he was way hotter than this.
[It just sort of tumbles out of his mouth without thinking, and he's probably being insensitive to the fact that holy shit he was just forced to think about his dead boyfriend, but the intentions are good in spirit.
He thinks of Sayuri for a moment, recalling on his own past experiences and how Yusuke had felt when he saw how the painting was originally meant to be. He tilts his head a little bit and opens his mouth again, verbal diarrhea. But he's earnest in what he says, and it's not incredibly deep or anything, but:]
You can't capture everything with a picture, anyway. It ain't made up of all the fights, all the makeups, kisses- whatever- all that shit in between just in one moment anyway.
[And this was limited to David's imagination. People can only envision what they see, anyway, and it's not like the artist could just travel back in time on a train like they could.]
So, uh. What's the plan? [He smiles back at him.]
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Wait for me on the roof.
[ And now he's turning the painting over so he can start opening up the brackets keeping the pieces of the frame together. Oh, he stealin'. ]
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Probably.
He'll course correct later. There are plans to be made. He looks at him, inquisitively, wondering what exactly he was envisioning, but he's compliant enough. With a short nod, he doesn't make a comment about Achilles stealing (that's what thieves do, right?- something like that) and snuffs out the candle again to leave the room in darkness.
He finds his way to the window, opening it. It creaks more than he'd like it to.]
Don't keep me waitin' too long. [And climbs up]
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He has to leave the painting in the room for now, but he'll be back for it later.
Ryuji won't be kept waiting long, at least. Achilles is quick as he shifts through the walls of the house, taking on spiritual form, and finds David in his bedroom relatively quickly on the top floor. The man is started awake as the hero makes a show of materializing as he moves through the solid panel, adorned in traditional armour.
He speaks Greek to him, announcing his presence in a dialect that has long since been buried along with its respective ancient civilization. The painter is understandably shocked by the whole ordeal, delirious from sleep and maybe even questioning of his sanity and state of consciousness.
That's fine. Achilles doesn't need to waste his time trying to convince him that this it's all real.
The man is scooped up, a strong hand wrapping around his mouth to keep him from crying out, though he's too frozen to do so or struggle. They're exiting out of the window, before he can register the danger, and taking a leap towards the adjacent building, which Achilles uses as a platform to kick off from (with unbelievable power) and launch back towards the estate. Think parkour, only this sort stupidly defies physics.
And when they finally land on the roof, Achilles is flipping the poor man and dangling him by his heel over the cobbled road below. If he's truly a fan of his lore, he'll understand the reference. Eventually. ]
My name is Achilles, son of King Peleus and Goddess Thetis, and the Best of the Achaions. I've come to you tonight so that you may heed this warning. So listen carefully.
[ David's nightgown billows with the wind, fabric falling over the poor man's face. He's panicking, thrashing around and fighting with the cloth that obscures his line of sight. He's screaming, too, though it's weak and broken as all the blood in his body starts to rush to his head. He probably looks silly, swinging around by his ankle, his entire body, along with his underwear exposed. ]
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Just who was he, anyway? He didn't understand what the implications of being a Heroic Spirit meant, but if he had to guess, then he would assume that he's some ghost of a hero who had died. That... would make sense, right? They needed a power source to survive, and Achilles himself said that he was pursuing something that couldn't last.
But it was... really sad to see him so thrown off kilter by the events in the gala. Whoever Patroclus was, well- he can't imagine the other taking in a lover to begin with- must've been special enough to him to make him mournful of reliving those memories. And that man in the other painting, the one that looked like Achilles would punch a hole right through it if he had less restraint- who was he? Was he involved in Patroclus' death? So many questions, nowhere near enough answers to sate his curiosity.
A curiosity, which, he had no right to have, actually.
And it's about this time that he hears the slamming of feet against the nearby building, and then sees the encroachment of Achilles onto the roof, David dangling along like a toy to a great dane. Ryuji's eyes go wide at the sight. His armor. His armor is magnificent- where the hell did that come from?
He doesn't have a lot of time to register or make decisions, as Achilles starts to hang him over the edge of the roof, and instincts take over- Ryuji moving quickly to meet him right near the point of David's potential last moments. His heart is beating frantically, and as he starts to speak in a language that he doesn't understand, Ryuji starts to panic. If this was Achilles' plan, it was way too goddamn far.]
Rider!
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He's just having fun with an otherwise boring mission. As long as they complete the objective, what does it matter how he goes about it?
Glancing at Ryuji, he switches to french. ]
I'm getting my point across. He's more likely to do as we say if he's fearing for his life. [ He has no scientific basis for this. Meanwhile David is weeping and probably wetting himself. ]
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Put him down. We can talk about this like goddamn adults.
[David, on the other hand, still dangling, still covered by the night gown occluding his vision and his middle aged dangly johnson practically wavering in the wind, doesn't look like he's having a great time here. He's creating way too much of a commotion, sending out a bat signal to all of France.]
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And up here, David has nowhere to go but down and he certainly won't want to risk it after that entire ordeal. ]
Alright, then talk like a goddamn adult. Tell him what we want. What the Great Achilles wants.
[ He crosses his arms smugly as David scrambles far away from Achilles and somewhat behind where Ryuji stands. He's clutching at his chest, seemingly unable to catch his breath. He's as pale as a ghost. Poor thing is terrified.
But he does manage to retort, saying something along the lines of, "Achilles?! You're m-mad!" ]
Oh, yeah? You're calling me a liar? [ And now he's manifesting his spear out of thin air, though the mana required to do so is probably not worth the effort. Achilles is extra and he has hardly any patience for being talked down to, so he'll have to worry about that later. He's going to point the spear right at him as the man shrilly exclaims that he's performing dark arts. ]
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Achilles? [H..uh... it feels kind of right when he says it. Ryuji can only assume that this is his real name. The Great Achilles? Okay. He'll roll with it.
Uh, shit. What's his line?]
Achilles, put down your spear, we're just talking, alright? You don't have to go 'n kill this poor guy. [He takes another step forward, the tip awfully close to his chest.] Gimme five minutes with 'em. Okay?
[He wants a fucking Oscar for this later.
But when he feels the tension rising, he backs away for a moment and turns to David, crouching down on the floor to give him a look over. A ghost from the past of Antiquity, and a light haired youth wearing a skeleton over his face. This image will definitely haunt him for years to come.]
Jacques-Louis David. I need your help. I'm not gonna threaten you like my buddy over here, m'kay? Listen up, because this is hella important. There's gonna be a vote to kill the king. I need you stay in your house for a few weeks, lay low for a bit. [Ryuji goes on to improvise-] As you can see, history's all kinda outta whack, so we're trying to fix it before this guy over here goes back home.
So Monsieur. Can I have your word on it?
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Making a noise at the back of his throat, he shifts his spear so that the butt of it nudges Ryuji in the backside.
You're going to have to do better than that.
But he's got David's undivided attention at least. ]
It'd be easier to do away with him, if you ask me... You can't trust that he'll do as he's told. We might have to come back here if he decides to seek help.
Not that anyone would believe him. [ He gives another breath of a laugh. ] Sỳn Athēnâi kaì kheîra kinei.
Do you hear me?
[ Pointing the spear at David again. ] The Gods have sent me here to ensure fate is as planned; to make sure that you, Jacques-Louis David, understand your role in this important event in history.
The king will die when in due time, when he's intended to.
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Owch. What the hell, man? He rubs his ass and turns his head around to glare at Achilles. Look, he was giving it his best. When COST gave him a new vocabulary and language to use, they were keenly lacking in the ability for Ryuji to actually sound refined, in any sort of lexicography. But even his scowl is met with indifference as Achilles dons the mask of best supporting character ("Bad Cop" in the credits role), and starts to dictate how this exchange is going to continue.
If anything, he knows that were the roles to be reversed, chances are Ryuji wouldn't take this laying down like this. He'd fight back, recklessly, and wind up with a spear through his gut.
"P-Please, don't hurt me, I'll do as you say! Yes, yes! I swear it! What necromancy has brought the most beloved of the Greeks to my estate!"
Oh? Sorry, did he mean Ryuji? This mage was still busy rubbing out the sore that was most definitely going to turn into a bruised tuchus.]
Yeah, so, if you don't want a visit from my friend here, you better stay inside. I hear it's dangerous at night.
[Well. It was. Ryuji almost got kidnapped once. At least he can speak from the heart on the matter.]
Think we got the message across?
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I think we did, Master. [ A little inside joke, though he gives Ryuji a knowing grin, baring the faintest bit of teeth beneath the moonlight. ]
Shall we go? If you're not going to let me eat his soul, then there's no need to be here any longer.
[ It's a half-truth. He wouldn't do something as deplorable as taking a human's life essence, but he's certainly capable of it. ]
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Eh, we've already crushed him enough today. Let's go.
[Oh... there's the matter of getting him back to his room, right? David can figure it out himself, he's a big boy.
He heads to the edge of the roof away from the both of them, expecting that Achilles would be on his trail.
Come on dude, don't let my dramatic exit down, gimme a hand here.]
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