[ Oh, was it reminiscent all right-- and in so many more ways than just the one. ]
... yeah, we did. Just not before squaring off against a bunch of copies of ourselves and people we know.
[ Phantoms, as Epimenides had called them, and that right there was especially similar to his Shadow incident, though possibly more cruel. From his one encounter with those things, the Shadow could only keep up the act as Byleth for a limited time, and just barely at that. Those Phantoms, on the other hand... ]
I dunno how that guy could replicate them so well, but they acted exactly like the real deals, down to the way they'd think. Guess he knew exactly who to pick to try and dissuade us from fighting, too: Dedue for Dimitri, Hilda and Hubert for Claude and Edelgard, and-- [ The shortest of pauses for a particularly exhausted sigh. ] --the usual suspect for myself.
[ And there's no amount of sugarcoating or downplaying it that can lessen the weight of his realization, one that has only solidified over the course of his stay in this world. Whether from Arval's persistent enabling of his revenge, Epimenides forcibly taking over his body, the multiple alternate realities he was shown in that hall of mirrors or his run-in with that Shadow, there was always someone or something pitting him against Byleth, like he had no choice in the matter. Sometimes, he truly didn't.
(Sometimes, he was physically robbed of agency. A vessel to someone else's will, as Epimenides had called him.) ]
As if that wasn't cruel enough, he later summoned perfect copies of ourselves into battle. There was really no way to tell friend from foe, so the only solution was that each of us had to slay our own other selves.
[ If his eyes start to shift into something more distant, it's not without reason. We're veering into full Weird territory here, so nothing like a little friendly dissociative state when confronted with memories of witnessing death at one's own hands, right?
(Not pictured: his utter concern for how someone they know actually seemed thrilled to cut himself down. Hmm.) ]
no subject
... yeah, we did. Just not before squaring off against a bunch of copies of ourselves and people we know.
[ Phantoms, as Epimenides had called them, and that right there was especially similar to his Shadow incident, though possibly more cruel. From his one encounter with those things, the Shadow could only keep up the act as Byleth for a limited time, and just barely at that. Those Phantoms, on the other hand... ]
I dunno how that guy could replicate them so well, but they acted exactly like the real deals, down to the way they'd think. Guess he knew exactly who to pick to try and dissuade us from fighting, too: Dedue for Dimitri, Hilda and Hubert for Claude and Edelgard, and-- [ The shortest of pauses for a particularly exhausted sigh. ] --the usual suspect for myself.
[ And there's no amount of sugarcoating or downplaying it that can lessen the weight of his realization, one that has only solidified over the course of his stay in this world. Whether from Arval's persistent enabling of his revenge, Epimenides forcibly taking over his body, the multiple alternate realities he was shown in that hall of mirrors or his run-in with that Shadow, there was always someone or something pitting him against Byleth, like he had no choice in the matter. Sometimes, he truly didn't.
(Sometimes, he was physically robbed of agency. A vessel to someone else's will, as Epimenides had called him.) ]
As if that wasn't cruel enough, he later summoned perfect copies of ourselves into battle. There was really no way to tell friend from foe, so the only solution was that each of us had to slay our own other selves.
[ If his eyes start to shift into something more distant, it's not without reason. We're veering into full Weird territory here, so nothing like a little friendly dissociative state when confronted with memories of witnessing death at one's own hands, right?
(Not pictured: his utter concern for how someone they know actually seemed thrilled to cut himself down. Hmm.) ]