Lancer || Diarmuid Ua Duibhne (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
croibhristeoir) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dramadramaduck2012-08-04 12:55 am
croibhristeoir) wrote in dramadramaduck2012-08-04 12:55 am
[video] // the crime is that all I touch falls in love
[This is a little unlike most recent occurrences on the community. This one...is a little more obviously a dream, or something very like it. A memory, perhaps? Whatever one would call it, the fact remains that it isn't quite reality.]
[Except...right around one minute in, it starts to flicker with static. And at a minute seventeen seconds, it cuts out completely, for just a moment.]
[The next thing seen is a flash of silver, followed by Diarmuid staring utterly dumbfounded at the blade driven into his stomach by Fionn mac Cumhaill himself. but...no, this was always what he expected. What he deserved. Why should he be surprised? Betrayal should have been repaid with betrayal, should it not? Even so, it still hurt. More than the sword that stabbed through him so easily, it hurt that Fionn had lied about forgiving him. Would he not have faced Diarmuid head-on in a fight?]
[...Of course not, because Fionn knew damn well Diarmuid would never, could never raise hand or blade to the lord whose wife he'd stolen.]
[Diarmuid opened his mouth to speak, but only coughed up blood. What could he even have said? 'I'm sorry'? Heartfelt, but worthless. No one could forgive Diarmuid now--not even himself. Instead of struggling with words that would mean nothing...the knight just gave a gentle smile from a broken heart before his legs gave out and he fell.]
[There was more static, the image cracking and breaking before one last thing was shown--Fionn, in a swordfight against a red-haired knight screaming vicious curses in archaic Irish Gaelic with tears in hate-filled eyes.]
[And once it was all over? The dreamlike quality vanished, slipping back into reality with Diarmuid doubled over in obvious pain and looking horrified.]
[Could these few days get any worse? Probably. But at this point he honestly couldn't imagine how.]
[Except...right around one minute in, it starts to flicker with static. And at a minute seventeen seconds, it cuts out completely, for just a moment.]
[The next thing seen is a flash of silver, followed by Diarmuid staring utterly dumbfounded at the blade driven into his stomach by Fionn mac Cumhaill himself. but...no, this was always what he expected. What he deserved. Why should he be surprised? Betrayal should have been repaid with betrayal, should it not? Even so, it still hurt. More than the sword that stabbed through him so easily, it hurt that Fionn had lied about forgiving him. Would he not have faced Diarmuid head-on in a fight?]
[...Of course not, because Fionn knew damn well Diarmuid would never, could never raise hand or blade to the lord whose wife he'd stolen.]
[Diarmuid opened his mouth to speak, but only coughed up blood. What could he even have said? 'I'm sorry'? Heartfelt, but worthless. No one could forgive Diarmuid now--not even himself. Instead of struggling with words that would mean nothing...the knight just gave a gentle smile from a broken heart before his legs gave out and he fell.]
[There was more static, the image cracking and breaking before one last thing was shown--Fionn, in a swordfight against a red-haired knight screaming vicious curses in archaic Irish Gaelic with tears in hate-filled eyes.]
[And once it was all over? The dreamlike quality vanished, slipping back into reality with Diarmuid doubled over in obvious pain and looking horrified.]
[Could these few days get any worse? Probably. But at this point he honestly couldn't imagine how.]