[ The joke hangs in the air between them while he waits to see what she'll do. There's what he hopes the response will be - something not back to normal since he knows better than to wish for that, but adjacent to it would be nice. Any answer but the ones they've been bludgeoning each other with for the past weeks turned into months could be a start. It occurs to Claude, and not for the first time, that not knowing what Hilda might say or do is endlessly unsettling and further serves as a reminder of the distance both unwittingly and willingly wedged between them both.
Even while reaching for something to offer in return it seems like the effort falters somewhere, falls short of what he'd hoped and hope shifts then to reality. Lingering as it does around the edges, it's something Claude still can't completely ignore even with how things seem to shift from each turn of them speaking. This is where he should laugh at what she says, he knows. That'd be the solution to keep things light. It'd let the illusion stand he wants to believe in, but that feels more like another version of doing what got them to this place to start with.
Instead he pauses a second too long after she speaks, the wyvern's teeth graze his hand, and he pulls it back with a grumbled curse a second later. Said curse is directed at himself for not paying attention and juggling one thought too many, though he inspects the teeth marks left behind with a sigh. ]
That's putting a lot of trust in me considering it's not like you have access to a dictionary here to be sure of whatever I'm saying the translation is. I don't think there's many lying around like at home though 'many' is an exaggeration since it's more like - a few.
[ That's as lightly as he can tease about something which had also sent his heart into his throat for a moment - that not quite an offer and not quite a promise nebulous statement about someday and learning the language he'd grown up with. Maybe Hilda's just talking about when Fodlan's Locket inevitably comes down if she's guessed as much in what's yet gone unsaid, or - no, that's not a thought he should follow anywhere. Not when she refuses to exist in the same space as him as the first hurdle of so many.
A few seconds go by where Claude absently flexes his hand, ignoring the sting of the tiny scratches before going right back to teasing the wyvern like he had been and like no lesson was learned. It's now or never, and still one step at a time. ]
Are you really planning on never coming back to the loft?
no subject
Even while reaching for something to offer in return it seems like the effort falters somewhere, falls short of what he'd hoped and hope shifts then to reality. Lingering as it does around the edges, it's something Claude still can't completely ignore even with how things seem to shift from each turn of them speaking. This is where he should laugh at what she says, he knows. That'd be the solution to keep things light. It'd let the illusion stand he wants to believe in, but that feels more like another version of doing what got them to this place to start with.
Instead he pauses a second too long after she speaks, the wyvern's teeth graze his hand, and he pulls it back with a grumbled curse a second later. Said curse is directed at himself for not paying attention and juggling one thought too many, though he inspects the teeth marks left behind with a sigh. ]
That's putting a lot of trust in me considering it's not like you have access to a dictionary here to be sure of whatever I'm saying the translation is. I don't think there's many lying around like at home though 'many' is an exaggeration since it's more like - a few.
[ That's as lightly as he can tease about something which had also sent his heart into his throat for a moment - that not quite an offer and not quite a promise nebulous statement about someday and learning the language he'd grown up with. Maybe Hilda's just talking about when Fodlan's Locket inevitably comes down if she's guessed as much in what's yet gone unsaid, or - no, that's not a thought he should follow anywhere. Not when she refuses to exist in the same space as him as the first hurdle of so many.
A few seconds go by where Claude absently flexes his hand, ignoring the sting of the tiny scratches before going right back to teasing the wyvern like he had been and like no lesson was learned. It's now or never, and still one step at a time. ]
Are you really planning on never coming back to the loft?