[ For all his silent fussing about time taking too long, moving too slowly, and everything else in between when it came to waiting for Hilda to say something. It feels like it outright grinds to a complete halt now as they stare at each other.
It's not unlike what he'd thought earlier in bits and pieces about both of them waiting to see who moves first. To see if someone's going to feint and do something else in where this is headed - wherever it is - and that realization brings some of it into focus further where his mind insists on poring over the details he knows.
He knows this is a look on Hilda's face he's seen before in different ways, and like everything else it feels different here and like the pieces of what make it up are constantly shifting through his fingers and out of his grasp. There's echoes of something from all those times in which he'd held her in different contexts, a tinge of wariness he's unsure is aimed at him or narrowly falling off the roof, and a flush Claude doesn't think is from the warm weather alone. Apprehension's in there which only serves to make it all the more confusing when he didn't think what he said was confusing. It felt as plain as he could make the truth in it he'd offered as a careful laying down of some of the cards forever in his hand with the promise of more to come. Hadn't it?
The wyvern flails once more and startles him into letting go of Hilda even before she backs away and he pulls back to avoid getting nailed by claws, and though all those questions waiting to be asked still crowd his mouth: one look at her says now isn't the time to ask any of them. Claude feels that at a visceral level in the seconds before she jokes about the wyvern's name. It gets a short laugh out of him, something that's also a reflex kicking in while he's still considering the rest including the scratch which shows plain as day on her face. ]
Razor, maybe. Scythe? Any old sharp and pointy weapon would work here, probably. We'll figure it out.
[ He's still hoping for we, since - while Hilda hasn't said anything, a beacon of hope remains and stands out above all else that she was going to before the fates intervened. And that, quite simply, feels like the least misplaced hope he's had in some time. The flame powering it might be a small one, and he could very well be getting ahead of himself in nurturing it to be something else, but it's something to hold onto. Waiting a little longer won't bring him any harm when he's waited this long and there's other subjects they've yet to talk about in between everything else.
Claude reaches out a hand again - and eyes the wyvern when it openly considers biting him before deciding This Is Fine - and rather than placing it on her cheek again, this time he lets it hover over her skin. All the better to call forth the magic to heal that before it reddens any further, even if it wasn't exactly what he'd promised to heal earlier before things had taken such a sudden turn. That much he can do next, anyway, so long as the wyvern keeps its grumbling to a minimum. ]
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It's not unlike what he'd thought earlier in bits and pieces about both of them waiting to see who moves first. To see if someone's going to feint and do something else in where this is headed - wherever it is - and that realization brings some of it into focus further where his mind insists on poring over the details he knows.
He knows this is a look on Hilda's face he's seen before in different ways, and like everything else it feels different here and like the pieces of what make it up are constantly shifting through his fingers and out of his grasp. There's echoes of something from all those times in which he'd held her in different contexts, a tinge of wariness he's unsure is aimed at him or narrowly falling off the roof, and a flush Claude doesn't think is from the warm weather alone. Apprehension's in there which only serves to make it all the more confusing when he didn't think what he said was confusing. It felt as plain as he could make the truth in it he'd offered as a careful laying down of some of the cards forever in his hand with the promise of more to come. Hadn't it?
The wyvern flails once more and startles him into letting go of Hilda even before she backs away and he pulls back to avoid getting nailed by claws, and though all those questions waiting to be asked still crowd his mouth: one look at her says now isn't the time to ask any of them. Claude feels that at a visceral level in the seconds before she jokes about the wyvern's name. It gets a short laugh out of him, something that's also a reflex kicking in while he's still considering the rest including the scratch which shows plain as day on her face. ]
Razor, maybe. Scythe? Any old sharp and pointy weapon would work here, probably. We'll figure it out.
[ He's still hoping for we, since - while Hilda hasn't said anything, a beacon of hope remains and stands out above all else that she was going to before the fates intervened. And that, quite simply, feels like the least misplaced hope he's had in some time. The flame powering it might be a small one, and he could very well be getting ahead of himself in nurturing it to be something else, but it's something to hold onto. Waiting a little longer won't bring him any harm when he's waited this long and there's other subjects they've yet to talk about in between everything else.
Claude reaches out a hand again - and eyes the wyvern when it openly considers biting him before deciding This Is Fine - and rather than placing it on her cheek again, this time he lets it hover over her skin. All the better to call forth the magic to heal that before it reddens any further, even if it wasn't exactly what he'd promised to heal earlier before things had taken such a sudden turn. That much he can do next, anyway, so long as the wyvern keeps its grumbling to a minimum. ]