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abraxas inbox + horizon contact

action + prose (nsfw marked) / horizon / network

[ Once Claude manages to grab hold of the wyvern does her attention turn to her bleeding fingers. It's unlike her to sacrifice her well being for something like this (never mind that she has had worse than a baby wyvern nip at her fingers) but then again, she hadn't been acting in ways that would be considered normal for her as of late.

She's rooting around in her bag for a handkerchief or something when Claude offers up something unexpected. Or two something's rather. Unable to concentrate on multiple things at a time in this already confusing scenario however, Hilda brain latches on to the latter half of what he'd said.

Extracting the handkerchief from her bag, she's quick to apply pressure to it. Normally she'd be quick to take him up on his offer. Why yes, he should be taking responsibility for her newly acquired wound. She'd even go as far as to demand that he kiss it better. Except why would he want to touch her after being barely able to stand the thought of being in a warehouse with her? It's flustering and confusing in the most bizarre way. ]

I'll be fine. [ A small wince suggests otherwise. ] I just hope that there isn't some kind of poisonous variation of wyvern roaming around.

[ That would be just her luck, wouldn't it? Sparing a glance towards the wyvern who has been momentarily sated by the jerky given to him by Claude, she realizes she can't be too put out by it. How does it know any better? And it's just so cute gnawing away at the piece of jerky. ]

We'll just have to teach it not to bite when someone is trying to feed it, I guess. Do you think it needs water? I have a waterskin in my bag.

Edited 2023-08-10 04:49 (UTC)

[ A noise from the wyvern which sounds like something happier as it nears the end of this jerky strip distracts Claude for a beat, but not enough - or long enough - to keep him from sending an unimpressed look in Hilda's direction after her proclamation and she'll be fine. Also maybe because of the poisonous comment, since why tempt fate? ]

You won't be if you're planning on working on any of your projects with one hand down today. [ It's matter-of-fact and in a way Claude recognizes he's not exactly entitled to do anymore what with the outright canyon of everything stretching between them he's reminding himself of, so he shakes his head. Not quite in apology since he doesn't think he's wrong, just - ] I learned that the hard way when Sa- Dawn was little. She wanted to bite me at all times until we worked on that.

[ Even though he'd caught himself, nostalgia blanks out the rest considering it's something he thinks this wyvern will have in common with his if the last couple minutes have been anything to go by as he looks down to check the jerky status. Only a little bit left now thanks to that hunger, but he's positive his fingers will again be the next target when it's gone. Nothing that can't be taught as Hilda's said and a phase which won't last long, with any luck, but right now he can't even bring himself to dread being bitten when he's still working to wrap his mind around there even being a wyvern here with them both. ]

Water's a good idea since it's warm out here today. You wouldn't happen to have a dish or container to put it in, would you? I'd offer what's in my bag, but - [ slightly sheepish look here because Claude's self-aware enough to know how predictable this is - ] I was testing out some new plants and I don't think there's any risk, but probably not worth taking it anyway.

Edited (someday i will remember the right word but not today) 2023-08-10 15:40 (UTC)

[ There's a small, appalled gasp from Hilda that earns him a little shove. It also elicits a little chirp from the wyvern who seems more amused by it than anything else. ]

Don't you dare speak that into existence, Claude von Riegan.

[ She almost continues to say that her hands have suffered worse over the last several weeks. Learning how to work on a larger anvil and a forge meant dealing with the work place injuries that came with it. Her fingers and hands had suffered burns and her fingers had been crushed under a hammer because she hadn't been paying as much attention as she should have been. But she stops herself short. Claude doesn't want to hear about any of that.

Her punctured fingers aren't enough to distract from the fact that he almost said something that wasn't Dawn but before she can inquire further, he says something that is so typically Claude that she has to roll her eyes. ]

Of course you were. [ With some difficulty she ties off the handkerchief around her finger. It's loose and probably won't hold for long, but it'll suffice for the task of pulling out her waterskin. ] I don't have anything, I'll just have to feed it by hand.

[ She plants her butt on the roof, albeit a little precariously just as the wyvern finishes the jerky. The unstopping of the cork draws its attention and she takes the moment of stillness to grasp either side of its small head to guide it towards the mouth of the waterskin. It wriggles slightly in Claude's arms but upon realizing that there's water being fed to it, it stills, drinking eagerly. Hilda wonders absently if she should ask about what he had almost said; is it worth it? Should she bother? The silence is too much for her though and she has to break it. ]

I thought your wyvern's name was Dawn. You almost said something else.

Edited 2023-08-10 18:10 (UTC)

[ That is a familiar enough response that it's too difficult to not laugh, so that's exactly what he does. But really: he'd meant the concern over the wyvern teeth sinking into her - and not because there was anything poisonous there to worry about. Just that it's painful, and it certainly doesn't lend to being able to keep the same dexterity for her smaller projects.

Something he'll have to communicate through looking at the handkerchief fleetingly before back at the wyvern as she semi-chides him for whatever it is in his bag that he's not fully mentioning, and watching as it watches her looking for something it'll enjoy. As Hilda moves to sit he resists the impulse to reach out and offer a steadying hand; she's in no danger of falling but it's yet another old habit it feels like he'll never need to stop reminding himself to let go of when it no longer applies.

Better to set that aside and helpfully shift the wyvern as much as he can to make it easier for her without giving it a chance to flee his grasp, though the water seems to be convincing enough that maybe, just maybe they aren't meaning to harm it. That's enough for a fond smile of his own what with all those memories of a different wyvern from a different time crowding in here, even if this time there's a distinct advantage in being an adult rather than a kid when it comes to this whole restraint thing.

But - Claude expected that slip up to not go unnoticed. It would've been too fortunate if it hadn't after all that distraction, though he still pauses briefly. ]

Her name's Dawn in Fodlan's language, but it's Sahar in Almyra's.

[ By way of explanation as he gently shifts the wyvern in his arms again to this time tentatively run a gloved finger over its forehead scales. There's a grumble in between drinking water but nothing else. That's another step in the right direction as the smile stays on his face but his gaze goes out of focus slightly as if he's looking at something both here and not. ]

She hatched right before daybreak and I was too excited to think of anything else as a name, so it stuck.

[ Considering their past history and more importantly, their most recent fight, Hilda hadn't thought that he'd respond as truthfully as he did. Granted, she didn't know a lick of Almyran so for all she knew, he could have been lying. Except some part of her didn't think that was the case. Not with the way he was looking at this wyvern and the genuine tenderness in his expression that she could spot from a mile away.

Discomfort settles on her shoulders. She hates that she still recognizes that sliver of truthfulness in his person; it isn't for her though, reminds herself. It's because they're reminiscing about things left behind in Fodlan that they may or may not ever see again. And not only that, she wonders again, briefly, how she should feel knowing that he was being truthful with her now about something that brushed so lightly against something some part of her resented him for not telling her about. Is it a sly way of rubbing it in her face? Was it a rare slip up from the man who stored everything under ten impossible to crack locks and keys? A quiet voice reminds her however that her family's history with the Almyrans probably hadn't helped matters so really, isn't this her fault in some way?

At this moment there's little room in her heart for resentment. It's been softened by that look on his face and the longing in his voice for times past. It melts at the thought of a younger Claude, holding a smaller Sahar in his arms. Her eyes dare to flit towards him. ]

Sahar. [ Her tongue feels out the sound of Dawn's name, a small smile tugging at her lips. ] It's beautiful. If it came to you that easily, it probably was meant to be her name. [ She lapses into silence, letting the sound of the wyvern continuing to drink fill the space between them. It's broken up by a quiet huff from her. ] I wish I had been able to see Waffle when he had hatched. Then he wouldn't have ended up with the name Waffenzahn.

[ Her eyes flit away from Claude again, focusing on the little wyvern in her his arms. ]

You could name this little one something in Almyran if you wanted to. It seems fitting.

[ Is it an olive branch? Maybe. Then again, she doesn't think he's ready to broker peace just yet even over a wyvern. ]

[ It's strange, he thinks, that holding this wyvern is tugging on all those memories when holding the smaller ones in the monastery's aerie hadn't. Or they hadn't quite like this, not even when he'd spent quiet mornings sitting amongst them before the rest of the students rose for the day while at the academy. Same for later on during the war when it'd been somewhere he'd again sought out that morning peace up until he'd found it in pink hair draped across his pillow and soft breaths against his shoulder when he'd awoken to still find her curled up next to him and fast asleep.

Something which feels so far away now, even more so than Sahar herself, or the monastery grounds, or even the home he'd once found so long as she was there, too. All wishes sealed away for good despite the faint smile on his face since it's easier to keep it there and let it stretch a little wider at what she says. Meant to be - maybe it was after all. Claude can't, however, resist an immediate laugh when it comes to Waffle's naming. ]

Waffenzahn is certainly - [ with a beat going by - ] a distinctive name. As is Waffle, since Geralt asked if that meant he hatched eating waffles. You could always say that's the case.

[ This wyvern, however, seems to finally have had enough to drink and possibly eat until they find an actual meal, but so far Hilda's fingers seem to be the only casualty as he keeps stroking its forehead and then moves to one of its horns. Despite wariness, that gets a wyvern head leaned into his hand immediately. Another way in which he'd won Sahar over once upon a time.

His hand comes to a pause at what she says next, and Claude looks up without lifting his head to find Hilda not looking at him but at the wyvern. It's not what he expected to hear, and surprise is equally tempered with curiosity. Maybe he shouldn't overthink this either. ]

We could. [ Said slowly, as if there's deep thought behind it while he screws his face up into a thinking expression to look up properly at the sun briefly before looking back to Hilda with a serious expression next. ] I'm not sure you want me to follow my other precedent, considering I think that means this wyvern ends up named 'building' or close to it.

[ Bright laughter peals from her lips following Claude's when she's reminded of the memory. Geralt had been so baffled when he had stumbled upon her pasting over Waffle's standard (boring) name tag with a much more sparkly, colourful piece of parchment. ]

Waffenzahn is close enough to Waffle. And it caught on. [ Her smile turns fond as she extends a finger out to slowly run it down the wyvern's snout as she recalls another memory she had forgotten under layers of dust and grime from the war. ] I think I even heard Setheth slip up and use it once.

[ As silly as it was, that had been a proud moment for her. A bright glimmer in an otherwise awful time. At his suggestion about the naming convention she can't help but bite back a laugh. ]

I guess that depends. Does it sound pretty at least? Because I might consider it if it does.

[ Something she says catches her off guard. It's the implication that she has any say in this at all. Sure she saw the wyvern first but that doesn't mean it's theirs. If anything it's his. There's no "we". Not anymore. A peace talk that she had promised Sylvain she'd have with Claude didn't come in the form of joint custody over a wyvern. Besides, she isn't equipped to take care of a wyvern herself, not when they'd had stable hands assisting them in Fodlan, and the Old Public House and Cyprian's attic didn't have the room to keep a wyvern. Quickly she amends herself. ]

I mean, you'd have the final say since it'll be staying with you at the loft. But you probably won't hear the end of it from Sylvain if you name it "Building" or "Jerky".

[ Her laughter feels like a reward like it always does. Something to be treasured and not only because lately he's heard it so, so rarely, but valuable because of who it's from and the easy way it falls from her lips. He's never been able to do anything but be swept away by it and now isn't an exception.

Claude's no stranger to Hilda amending something after saying it, most of the time to remove herself from whatever it was if there'd been a bit too much associated with it no matter what the 'too much' in question was, but - this is different. This is a purposeful subtraction, a deliberate sidestep - something intentional beyond all those playful whines and protests of being asked to do work or something like it. All things he'd learned to see through in time for where to interject in something playful and meant to sway her, but this?

This he hates, because the opportunity is there but hesitation he'd never had before holds him back from taking it anyway. All those playful comments build up anyway just waiting to be used and he holds them back with each one tasting sourer than the last as they dissolve on his tongue with nowhere to go. One more exhausting reminder of the state of things he doesn't know how to fix or whether they even can be when he thinks again about a jewelry box on a floor.

Even as soon as he does, a wave of that exhaustion comes to tug at him with the understanding he's holding back again. No more - not when that had gotten them both here in the first place. ]

And what if I wanted to never hear the end of it from you?

[ A check instead of a bet to find out the stakes of advancing first. A careful motion in any card game and one he uses now with that intention; Hilda's right that Sylvain will be full of (deserved) eye rolls over any such names, but what if those aren't the only thing he wants? ]

[ Very few had been well versed in reading between Hilda's lines. Not because she was some complex being with multiple layers and facets but because she left very little for them to grasp onto by design. She wasn't meant to be complicated, clever, or anything more than a pretty face because that's what people expected from her. Holst filled all of those expectations and then some – there was nothing more for her to contribute except fluttering eyelashes and a cute smile.

So when Claude had suddenly begun to read between the lines it had taken her by surprise. At first she hadn't lingered on the thought too much; she had chalked it up to flukes the first couple of times. He was smart after all. But then she became used to being seen by him, even enjoyed the playful back and forth they had developed even if it meant having to do work she was trying to avoid. She didn't think she'd ever have that again.

Claude's words freeze something in her pleasant expression. That tone of his, the weighted measure of his words, is all too familiar to her. He's trying to test the waters, she realizes. Wants to see where she stands. But for what reason? Sylvain's voice faintly echoes in the back of her mind buried under a haze of alcohol: Claude thought she was important to him. Maybe that was true once upon a time, but why would he now when he has Sylvain? Why would he when he cared so deeply for Petra who is all the things she never would or could be? Surely it's not just for sentimental reasons.

There's plenty of things she could say in this situation. But instead she settles on a forced lightness in an effort to dispel nerves and hope as she averts her gaze back towards the wyvern who is all but becoming a puddle in Claude's touch. ]

I'm not sure what you mean by that. We haven't exactly been on speaking terms.

[ Better to be up front about it, she thinks. But there's a line of curiosity that runs through her words, an invitation to expand because a part of her wants to know. ]

[ There's a flicker that goes across her face after he speaks. Most people wouldn't know to look for it, he thinks absently, or they'd think she'd just thought of something else in the midst of conversation. But he knows better - knows exactly what it looks like when something brushes up against something she'd either rather not share or needs some time to puzzle through on her own.

In the past he would've attempted to draw it out with this prodding question or that one and maybe with some teasing sprinkled in for good measure to round it all out. Claude sits silently with the only noise in the pause being the wyvern's grumbles, unbelievable as they are from enjoying the attention. Patience isn't new to him when it's a skill he'd picked up long ago even with the conflicting feeling of impatience in wanting to know what she'll say. Waiting wins out since whether or not Hilda chooses to answer is up to her. It'd be better to not interfere; on this, he wants her honest response.

When she settles on a cheerful deflection, a volley of an unseen ball back to him to see what he does with it, Claude has to work to restrain the twist of his mouth that'd be a giveaway to wanting to smile from surfacing at all. It'd give the wrong impression, even as he's not going to settle for what she says. ]

I think you know exactly what I mean.

[ The latter part of what she'd said - he's not going to address that. No need to point out the obvious, and especially so when it'd merely leave another way for a wedge to be driven in. Or worse, it'd become another distraction for one or both of them to latch onto to get away from the topic Claude actually wants to pursue. Even if those words are said in something like nonchalance, something to hide a deeper meaning behind like he'd used as one of his many shields over the years Hilda had equally learned to look beyond, he certainly still means them. ]

[ Of course he didn't answer and lobs the ball back to her.

She'd laugh if only if she were a 100% certain that there wouldn't be a spark of annoyance through it, a remnant of their fight. He's too smart to not have known what that response would elicit in her. Her gaze lifts just in time to see the telltale twist of his lips trying to hide a smile that she knows threatens to show. Jerk. Although even that is thought with more affection than venom. It was just another reminder of what she loved and hated about Claude.

But she refuses to move another inch. Stubbornness rears its head and her eyes stayed trained on him with a look of challenge and defiance that doesn't match the good natured smile on her face. If he wasn't going to settle for what she had said, she isn't either. This too was an old habit of theirs. Hypothetical chicken until someone caved and said what they really wanted despite being fully aware of what it was, all thanks to being able to read between the other's lines. ]

I might. But I'd rather hear what you really mean.

[ Her patience was in good form today, but she knew there was only so much she could actually take. The time that stretched between them and their fight, was an indication that what she wanted and needed from him had changed. Maybe she had outgrown playing guessing games with him when it came to things that mattered. She couldn't be sustained on what if's and hope anymore. She wanted something tangible to stand on, to know exactly where she stood whether it was an answer she wanted to hear or not. ]

Edited 2023-08-14 00:31 (UTC)

[ Hilda's answer isn't surprising, and if it was any other time he might give in to that temptation to smile fleetingly again. They could end up going in circles for who knows how long at this rate. If it were close to when they'd fought, he'd be tempted to for all the wrong reasons rather than those ones which had been a familiar refrain once.

But all this does is bring about that frayed edge feeling playing about everything the way it has ever since, and all at the same time his own stubbornness rises to remind him he wasn't the one who closed the door on everything. Which might be true, or it perhaps not depending on the lens through which it's viewed, but continuing to view it that way won't do anything but continue to open this particular wound again and again, won't it?

Claude's silent as he looks down to the wyvern now resting its chin on his hand, apparently resigned to its fate of being loved on and held though he can tell it's as alert as ever. Probably can sense the tension, if he had to guess, if only because Sahar had learned to do the same with everything that went on though unlike Sahar looking for something to defend against this wyvern will be waiting for a chance to flee. Something he can relate to, though now his own tendency to run takes a seat to the side.

One step at a time, he thinks, and then he looks up. ]

I mean I want you to stop staying everywhere else that isn't the loft like you don't already have somewhere to call home, to begin with.

[ Because that seems like the easiest thing to ask for, of all the things, especially when most of them are things Claude's not even certain he can ask for or if it'd even be worth it. This is something direct enough while still being indirect to the rest. Hilda's made clear there's nothing keeping her here, after all. Even the wyvern had been somewhat brushed off as something to reside only at the loft where she wouldn't be, as though she'd already carefully excised herself from any possibilities there. A familiar pattern from their time here, he's come to realize, which leads to another thought to nudge that door open further. ]

I don't understand why you left, and it wasn't because we fought. That's not the reason when you were already barely there before then.

[ If experience is anything to go off of, Hilda half expects them to continue in a frustrating round of back and forth avoidance until someone (her) gets annoyed enough to drop it all together and move on from the subject. How naming a wyvern lead them to this is beyond her. Colour her surprised then when Claude just comes right out and says what he actually means to say.

Claude overhearing her conversation with Cyprian that day in the warehouse hadn’t been forgotten. A part of her had briefly worried what he’d do with that information before dismissing that feeling altogether. The answer is that he would do nothing with it because if he did, that wouldn’t fit into the narrative she had built around him explicitly not caring. That’s why she has so much trouble comprehending this turn of events.

Whatever bravery she’d had before shrinks slightly at the word ‘home’ and her smile disappears altogether. The loft had been intended to be a place for them, but home in Abraxas wasn’t so much a physical place as it was a person. Or two persons, rather. Her heart pangs at the loss. She withdraws her hand from the wyvern’s head going instead to fiddle nervously with the badly wrapped handkerchief around her finger. It would be easy to bite back with a bitter retort but she answers with some level of honesty instead. ]

It’s not my place to call home anymore. Especially after we fought.

[ She could leave it there because it’s both a response and an answer to his non-question. But if she wanted to stop being so selfish, so awful, and this would give him peace of mind so he could move on from them to start new with someone else then maybe that was the final act of kindness she could give someone who had once been her best friend. ]

That and I wanted to give you and Sylvain more space to be together.

[ Which is again something that just skims the surface of something she can’t bring herself to touch upon but she hopes he won’t venture further either. ]

Edited (don’t look at the time stamp ) 2023-08-14 06:51 (UTC)

[ There's a second where some version of exasperation threatens to flare over at what feels like her insistence it wasn't a place for her to call home, and Claude's sorely tempted to dig into that even despite willing himself to have some patience. That turns out to be for the best because he takes a second then to look at how she's wilted even if she's trying to (somewhat) hide it. File that under things he still takes note of and knows how to recognize, and it's important to keep in mind.

Even more so when her next answer has him stilling in place and focusing on her, ignoring the wyvern's complaint about the attention stopping. That's a sentence with a lot of things packed into it and something which has the edges of his mind itching to pull it apart, to examine everything possibly within. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't hesitate to do that.

And it's not even hesitation here that's stopping him, but something more like common sense: he can try to extrapolate what she means from a handful of words if he wants to keep making the same mistakes over and over. It'd be a good way to throw them into another cycle of whatever this is instead of what they'd been going around and around in. Claude ignores the call of frustration and shakes his head, determined to take emotion out of this. As much as it can be, anyway, and with whatever's needed to prevent this from becoming yet another confrontation he doesn't want. ]

Maybe I didn't want that, Hilda. [ A huff follows that, entirely at himself, since - why the qualifier? Time to try again. ] I take that back: I didn't want that and I still don't. None of what you just said has ever been on the list of things I'd call wants. I'm not trying to argue, I promise you I'm not. But I do want to understand, if you'll tell me.

[ An admission of sorts: that Claude's turned all over his over and over in his mind and felt he was never any closer to any answers, that what those answers might be are assumptions - that he's tired of pretending there's not whatever's going unsaid here from one or both of them which sent everything on a collision course. ]

[ None of this fits into the narrative that she had been convincing herself of now for weeks. Claude had done away with her, their friendship, their everything, hadn’t he? That was the basis of this rift that she had felt so deeply in her core along with other emotions that she had denied admitting that she felt at all for so long.

The handkerchief comes undone with an easy tug revealing the bright spots of blood staining its fabric. Trying to tie it again serves as both a focal point and a distraction so she doesn’t have to look at Claude. Despite that she can feel her heart racing, her brain buzzing, a tug at the base of her skull — she doesn’t want to have this conversation. She isn’t capable of it, doesn’t possess the bravery to. Unsurprisingly it’s easier to talk about her feelings with someone partly removed like Wanda and practically impossible when it involves the person in question.

Internally she’s torn; this is what she’s wanted for weeks. She’s missed his presence like he’s a part of her but now that he’s in front of her, she’d rather leap from rooftop to rooftop than have this conversation. Maybe that was still on the table — if she could tie this damn handkerchief first that is. ]

What do you mean you don’t want that? [ Hilda lets out a sound that is equal parts frustrated huff and laugh at how absurd this is. ] Claude, I slapped you and practically threw you onto the ground when we were in the Feywilds. I said awful things to you that weren’t true. Why would you want to share a space with me after that? I wouldn’t.

[ The ends of the handkerchief continue to slip despite her best efforts, and she lets out an annoyed sound. Words continue to spill from her as she tries in vain to succeed in her task, these ones edging a little closer to the truth than anything else she’s said before. ]

And why do you want to? You have Sylvain. You had Petra. You don’t need me. I’m not anything like them which is fine because I don’t need a pity party or praise, but if you were done being friends with me you could have just told me. You don’t have to be nice to me just because I was summoned here and because we have history. I knew it wasn’t going to last anyway, especially when I found out you were leaving for Almyra.

[ That letter in his domain had confirmed some of her worst fears about their finite relationship. Why delay the inevitable then? Why prolong the hurt? ]

[ Hilda fiddles with the handkerchief in a way he notices idly with his attention elsewhere while she also doesn't look back at him. Two odd things, but ones which feel less important to pay attention to than waiting to see if she'll answer him. He dismisses it as a way to think, fidgeting to burn off some energy and nothing more. On top of that, it's something he forgets all about when she does offer him something in response.

He's about to make a quip about not forgetting the being shoved in mud that'd happened in there in between both of those - might as well make sure there's a whole picture of what's happened in a morbidly entertaining sort of way, if it can even be called that, but what she says doesn't end there. I said awful things to you that weren't true, Hilda says, and a crease appears in his brow. True doesn't change that she didn't mean them so that's what he'll point out instead, except that what she says next ceases any thoughts to cross his mind at all when it feels like a bolt of lightning rattles around his brain.

Whatever breath is in his lungs leaves it. If he were thinking clearly, there's threads in there he can follow down to what's not being said. As it is, all he can do is think around the outline of it, one step away from getting it entirely. ]

How little do you think of me that you believe any of what you just said is how I actually feel about you?

[ It's said quietly with the pained expression on his face he's too aware of being all too real as he looks back at her. Even though his arms are still around the wyvern it's all but forgotten; he'd meant to leave that question there and let it stand but now it registers she's rebandaging her hand because she means to leave. With that understanding, Claude shifts his grip to prevent any wyvern escape just because he's distracted before reaching out his own free hand to curl gloved fingers lightly around her nearest forearm to keep her there, if only for a moment. ]

My leaving for Almyra doesn't mean anything has to end, now or later. I don't understand how--

[ But no sooner is the first part of that sentence out of his mouth than something else starts slowly sinking in, and the already loose grip he has on her goes even slacker. ]

I thought you didn't want me with how clear you've made that lately, let alone since you arrived.

[ If he had interjected, made wry little quips, Hilda wouldn’t have been surprised. Such was the nature of their relationship. It shouldn’t have been so much of a surprise to Claude either if she had replied with thinly veiled annoyance because here she was trying to explain, trying to apologize (except there hadn’t been an explicit, “I’m sorry,” yet - she was working her way up to it), and he was trying to poke holes in her long-winded and not very well explained at all explanation.

None of those things had come to pass though. Instead she’s left with runway to ramble on, as if rushing through this explanation means she can leave this hot rooftop sooner and her civic duty to both Sylvain and Claude could be considered complete. But then she hears the sliver of hurt in Claude’s voice when he poses that question to her. It’s like a glass shard that worms its way into her own heart. That would have been enough to halt in her in her tracks, but then he reaches out to grasp her forearm and her frantic motions come to a screeching halt.

Her eyes snap up to look at him seeing how pained he looks, as if his voice hadn’t been enough evidence of that. The buzzing in her head gets louder to the point where she can’t hear her own thoughts. All she can focus on his Claude and how hurt he looks, and how her first thought is how she wants to reach over to cup his face, like her fingers smoothing out the lines between his brow would be enough to dispel it from him.

The word “want” tugs at a loose thread in her brain, like she’d had to clarify that definition with someone else recently. But with everything else being said, about how a return to Almyra didn’t mean the end, and how he felt about her - it’s hard to focus on that right now. ]

I don’t know how you feel about me because you’ve never told me! [ Her voice raises slightly, causing the baby wyvern to hiss at the sudden cracking quality of her voice. She tries to steel herself - she wouldn’t cry even if it meant having the baby wyvern bite her again because she’s so tired of crying over men. ] The only time you said anything about that while we’ve been here was when you said in less words that I was dumb and couldn’t see what was in front of me.

How was I supposed to want you when I saw how close you were with the others? [ The arm Claude is holding falls limply to her lap and despair begins to edge into her voice. ] There’s practically a year between us in time if you count how long you’ve been here. I could see how you had changed. I saw how you looked at Petra and how you look at Sylvain even if you don’t think you are looking at them a certain way. [ Her voice grows small again, the last part deflating her entirely. ] I thought you had outgrown me.

That goes both ways, Hilda. It's not like you've ever said anything about how you feel about me either and you still aren't now. Neither one of us has said anything in years.

[ There's no edge to that statement, just a weary truth since the side of him all too ready for the worst is doing its best to convince him this sounds like a defense leading up to stating she couldn't possibly feel anything at all. It'd explain why she sounds teary in a way he knows is real. This stretches beyond Abraxas as he's always felt it has - though Abraxas certainly hadn't helped - and he's beginning to resent the eventuality it seems like is looming over this conversation. It's not blame he's trying to shift away or put somewhere in the first place; the truth remains both of them had an equal hand in ending up in this situation even if the backdrop for it isn't Fodlan like it very well might have been otherwise.

Though - it's with that in mind he reminds himself to think clearly in ways that'd slipped away from him. To put all those skills of reading people to use and look when her voice changes timbres yet again, and to not assume. Even if he still doesn't quite understand the logic he can follow it, and that makes it easier to try again in a gentler tone without exhaustion dragging it down this time. ]

Of course being here changed me. So did the war, so did being at the academy, and so did coming to Fodlan in the first place. I'm not going to apologize for any of that, and I don't think you should either considering I'm not the only one who's changed by being here, right? But that doesn't mean that any of it changes or ever changed how I feel about you. And I thought - [ well, this part about honesty he hates, mostly because the gears are turning to realize his inference she has no feelings beyond friendship towards him is incorrect, but also because it means admitting something he would've been perfectly happy to never share at all, ] I thought since... things didn't go back to how they were that you wanted them to end. That that's what you wanted.

[ It's the sort of thing which had made perfect sense as he'd thought about it over and over on here in Cadens, in the market together while she'd pretended she didn't have any plans for paints or beads, on nights crammed into tents or old dorm rooms as the only one awake while he tried to tell himself he'd be strong enough to walk away when this came to an inevitable end. Not because he wanted that, but because it'd be what Hilda chose and would make her happy, and he would've accepted that. Now it feels borderline ridiculous despite it being his own thought in the hindsight of the absolute wreckage it left them in.

In the rush to focus on everything else, it means Claude's still processing parts in bits and pieces - and one extremely important part clicks as he furrows his brow again in something not quite a frown and not quite concentration alone. ]

Wait a minute. Why do you think I called you dumb?

There was a war going on, Claude!

[ The absurdity of this doesn't escape her and she can't help but groan at him. She'd throw her arms up were it not for the fact that she still had an untied handkerchief around her finger and his hand resting lightly on her forearm. ]

It's not exactly a healthy environment for romance to blossom. I can't exactly just decide to go on a date in the middle of a battle. And I'm the one still living through it. You're the one that's done and getting ready to leave.

[ It's hard to keep the bitterness out of her voice when she points out the obvious. There's not much, but it's enough to colour it and stir up the doubt inside of her. She knew what point in time he was from, she knew what had happened over the course of their time here together. The kiss they had shared in Nocwich surely just had to be that, right? A relieved kiss that he was alive and that he had returned mostly unharmed. A celebratory kiss where she was the consolation prize because Sylvain and Petra weren't there.

It's for all those reasons that despite having this conversation with him now, has her convinced that he still somehow doesn't have any feelings for her. He had said "years", hadn't he? Didn't that mean that if he did have feelings, he hadn't set anything in motion even after the war? She had built herself up a cozy den of denial for so long that convincing herself of something else feels like an impossible task.

Laying out their friendship like this hadn't been done before. Even if a scenario like this where she suddenly felt so insecure about where she stood in his life had come up in Fodlan, there hadn't been time, nor the place, to do so. Their energies were best spent on other things like surviving. She didn't think it would ever happen. Especially not on a hot summer's day in the middle of a desert town in a different world with a baby wyvern between them. Frustration wells up inside of her and she can feel his words add pressure to the build up behind her eyes. ]

I'm not asking you to not change. I love that you've opened yourself up to others and made more friends and more connections. [ Not entirely true, her jealous monster tuts. And she lets out a huff. ] I might have been a little jealous but I was going to get over it. I just - I didn't want you to leave me behind!

[ The outburst causes her to press the heel of her wounded hand into her eye to stop what she knows is an onslaught of tears. Therein lays one of her biggest fears after finding that letter: being made to feel like someone capable and then being left alone despite trying her hardest to do those things. It's pathetic, really. She's not codependent. She can do things on her own. But meeting Claude meant feeling wanted in more ways than just her family's last name and being Holst's little sister. She feared she wouldn't be able to live up to that after he left. That she wouldn't be capable of making herself feel like she could live outside her pretty box if he did.

She can feel her skin crawl admitting it - but then it's cut abruptly short when he asks a question. A little crease of frustration appears between her brow as she looks up at him, mouth falling open. The sass that slips out can't be helped. ]

What do you mean why do I think you called me dumb? You said I paid attention to anything that was in front of me and that I hadn’t really listened to anything you said over the years. How else was I supposed to take that?

Edited 2023-08-16 01:52 (UTC)

No.

[ That's the only thing he says at first as that simple one word response tears out of him when frustration building as he listens to her gets to be too much to bear. The breaking point is her answer to his question of when he'd supposedly called her dumb and it boils over into a forceful denial over the very idea of that ever being what he'd meant. This is backsliding into something he doesn't want it to be, and it's doing so at a rapid rate where if there's no intervention they'll be right back exactly where they were.

Claude closes his eyes and counts a few seconds going by to reign everything back in to not be the one to send them careening. There's a second in there where he grits his teeth to himself, if only because everything Sylvain said is coming back to mind, and yet they're still wavering on this ledge daring the other to jump off it first. It makes sense; years of uncertainty doesn't go away from a few words exchanged. But this is also, officially, the most ridiculous conversation he's had while holding a wyvern.

When he opens his eyes, the baby wyvern gets put down to the side with enough faith in its lack of flying abilities, and the pack of jerky is put down next to it. It immediately goes to nose around it in search of more snacks which means there's nothing to do but look back at Hilda now with far less frustration and maybe even a tinge of fondness to it. ]

Hilda, for all the sakes of all the gods, I'm begging you to listen to me because you aren't the only one hurting here. I was begging you then to listen too, because if you'd looked at everything from over the years you would've seen - and can still see - how important you are to me and that you always have been. Do you think there's anyone who knows me half as well as you do? That includes that I've told you more about me than anyone else in or from Fodlan. How many people, exactly, do you think I've ever invited to come meet my parents? Because the answer is one, and it's you.

And the answer for asking when that'll happen is sooner rather than later, I hope, and if my going home means anything then it means a chance for that to finally happen because I still want it to. I could never leave you behind.

[ Claude takes his chances (in multiple ways) by peeling the gloves off and all but tossing them onto the ledge between them. Better for reaching over to take her face in his hands as he has ten, twenty, a hundred times before and with no less affection in it even if he's risking - who knows what kind of reaction. For all his calculations of risks, this one is one he throws to the metaphorical wind, because what's more important is drying the tears she's pretending aren't there as he's not finished yet. ]

You know what everyone else sees when they look at you? They see someone brilliant and capable of doing whatever she sets her mind to. Someone who cares for everyone around her because you're always checking in on them, and you're always there with a kind word or a gift meant specifically for them. You notice those kinds of things and remember them because you know how to always make someone smile. Gods know you've done that for me several times over and especially at moments when I didn't feel like it. That's not a complete list either because the actual list is far, far longer, but they're just a few of the reasons I fell for you.

[ It quickly becomes apparent to Hilda that the pounding in her head is actually the sound of her heart hammering loudly in her chest but Claude's voice slices through it like a knife. For a brief second everything halts - the pressure behind her eyes, the buzzing in her brain, the tug at the back of her skull - and she's left staring at him in wide-eyed confusion. When he doesn't continue she's almost tempted to blather on, to press him for more details because, "No" doesn't explain anything. For a brief, ridiculous moment she thinks that he's about to exit this conversation and walk away with the wyvern. It would annoy her to no end but it would also serve her right she thinks, especially after walking away from him both times before.

The thought alone is ridiculous, because there is no running tally of who can walk away more times and get the final say. They both stand amidst the ruins of their crumbled friendship. Neither of them had won anything and both of their knuckles sport bruises that bloom across them like violets. Regardless, she braces herself for it, because keeping her guard up had become second nature after being here for months without any clue as to where they stood but watching him progress with someone else she held dear. Instead of watching him get up to leave however, he places the wyvern on the roof to his side with all the jerky to keep it as occupied as possible before turning his gaze to her with the strangest look in his eyes.

As he speaks Hilda's emotions feel like they're on some kind of jerking wyvern ride that she has no control over. At first there's a rush of lingering frustration, not at him necessarily, but aimed at the dawning realization that this had become a matter of miscommunication between two people who had always, mostly, been in sync with one another. Frustration ebbs into a swelling hope when he mentions bringing her to meet his parents just like it had the first time he had mentioned it. But just like that time she had quashed that hope almost as soon as it had begun to materialize. She can barely comprehend what he's saying nevermind what all of it will amount to. It had only been in the past couple of years leading up to their reunion that she felt like she could fully begin to guess what might come out of his mouth in any given situation.

And then he's touching her face so tenderly making her feel like she's some tender precious thing. It's like that night in the Nocwich infirmary bed. It's like all the countless times before that back in Fodlan. And just like all of those times before her breath catches in her throat and she finds herself holding her breath because she wants it to mean nothing and everything all at once. But unlike those times, this isn't followed by him closing the gap between them to seal it with a kiss. For the first time, he's filling it with words that feel like the way he's cradling her face. He's always reassured her before, told her that she was beautiful and brilliant - and it's never failed to make her respond with anything but gentle deflections. None of those times have prepared her for how he ends his grand Mr. Leaderman speech.

Pink eyes stare wide at him, almost dumbfounded and she has to shut her mouth and shake her head because - ]

You...fell for me? I don't understand, I - [ She finds herself stuttering, tripping over words that should be so simple. There's a disconnect here between their history, their time in Abraxas, their fight and now here on this rooftop in the middle of Cadens. ] What do you mean you fell for me? Like when I threw you onto the ground and you fell?

[ Some part of her is face palming for asking such a stupid question. She'd toss herself off the roof if she could. But the disjointed pieces laid out in front of her still don't seem to make any sense. ]

[ It's a lot to be said, even from someone who talks. A lot. It's certainly more than they've ever said between them.

Claude's also painfully and keenly aware that though as much he'd alluded to it being, this still only skims the surface of everything. There's more that could be said - should be said, but old fears aren't so easy to shake. Years of not saying a word about any of this and relying on what ifs alone are too difficult to shake fully even with taking this stride forward. It's less fearsome than he'd imagined in some ways now the moment's finally here, and more so in others.

Especially when Hilda doesn't say anything for what feels like a century. In reality, one where he's not waiting while feeling like he's holding his breath, it's likely only minutes or even a handful of seconds while he works to suppress that ever present urge to plan for everything from rising up and dissecting what's happening or what's to come. There's no need to think about it to that level; maybe he can just trust in blowing the dust off this dream to look at it once more from where he'd shelved it with the belief it could never be.

Just as he is when she finally speaks with - not what he expected at all. A moment goes by where all he can manage to do is blink once and then twice, processing what she's said, and then he has to resist the urge to laugh. Which he manages, thankfully, since he's also not trying to be launched off this roof any time in the near future or preferably ever, and it's possible some of that lingering frustration melts away to be replaced with more fondness. ]

Last time I checked, there's usually only one way that can be meant when it's paired with everything else.

[ As for the 'everything else' in question, Claude might repeat them if it wasn't for feeling uncertainty creep in at the edges of everything. It's not that her reaction doesn't make sense on some level, and it's not like hope's managed to rush back in when he's spent so long suppressing it and then the past couple months working to outright extinguish it with mixed results. But a couple of different gears are now turning in his mind over the look on her face of clear disbelief, and why she seems so shocked, and he can't help but think there's more pieces to this he's missing.

Something else not accounted for, or maybe multiple somethings, have to be making this feel as fine as gossamer when Claude stills from running a thumb over her cheek to study her carefully. It's not a secret he's doing it either when it goes on long enough to be clear his gaze runs over every part of her face as though it'll reveal what he's looking for. If only he knew what that was. ]

Is that all you have to say?

[ Neutrally and only in the gentleness prying; he's careful to keep anything out of that since while it might be fueled by doubt and confusion on his end, that stays internally rather than being anything to put on Hilda or even hint around. That wouldn't be fair in so many ways when whatever conclusion she comes to should be entirely her own. ]

[ A nervous laugh, brief and short flutters from her lips when he tells her - basically confirms - that the response the hopeful part of her wants to hear is not incorrect in its assumption.

Hilda's mind is slowly beginning to catch up with her and unfortunately for her, that also means that suddenly she's all too aware of Claude's gentle stroking of her cheek and how warm and right it feels. She's also becoming aware that her mouth feels a little dry and she has to answer his question. Confessions had occurred a handful of times over the course of her time at the Academy by those brave, bold, or stupid enough to forget that even if she did return their affections, Holst still stood as a major blocker in the quest for winning her heart. So rarely had those moments been as heartfelt or tied to someone that she actually, seriously entertained any sort of future with for more than a daydream's amount of time.

And if she did entertain it for longer than that, like she had with Claude, she had quickly waved the daydream away because even if more ever transpired between them, she's certain she wouldn't know what to say. It turns out that her assumptions had been correct - case in point, her stupid question. And because she finds herself at a loss for words, her mind chooses that precise moment to over analyze and doubt what he's said. 'Fell for' could easily be the past tense, couldn't it? So if that were the case that means that he doesn't necessarily have feelings for her now.

But if it were all in the past, why were they talking about this now? Why would he be looking at her like the way he looks at Sylvain and how he had looked at Petra? The looks had been so fleeting, so very blink and you'll miss it, that she hadn't been certain the first several times she had seen it happen. Knowing someone meant bringing puzzle pieces together fast enough to draw conclusions and Hilda had of course drawn her own which included there being no reality where he would ever look at her that way. And yet. She's shaking her head, rambling again because she feels like she has to fill the unbearable silence that she's let stretch between them. ]

I just don't know how to process it all. We've never talked about this before - you - we only ever slept together so how was I supposed to know? Well, we didn't just sleep together but -

[ She tries not to sound so desperate and yearning, nor does she mean to reduce their friendship to just the physical nature. Explaining all of her reasons why they could never be together to him seems absurd; that she is not what he thinks even though she wants to be, that he can and already has found better. Asking for further clarification about what he said also seems equally stupid. But she remembers how her heart broke when Wanda asked if her feelings for Claude went beyond friendship. How achingly loud the affirmative had been and how she hadn't actually been able to form the words on her lips for fear of making them real and him never hearing them himself. You can't always be afraid, Hilda is what Wanda had said. But she is. But doesn't that mean she should still try? Hilda tries to steel herself, as something clarifying dispels the confusion in her eyes. Her hand comes up to cup his hand. ]

Claude, I -

[ But just at that moment the universe decides to intervene. A bird has perched just behind Hilda drawing the attention of the wyvern. While Hilda's brain generates a response, the baby wyvern tenses, watching and waiting for the opportune moment to strike. Unfortunately it chooses just that moment when she plucks up enough bravery to tell him how she actually feels. It pounces - and although it can't fly, it can leap. It launches itself towards the bird but instead lands on Hilda's chest, toppling her backwards and knocking the wind right out of her. Her eyes widen and she immediately wraps her arms around the wyvern who almost tumbles over the side of the roof but that doesn't account for her saving herself from a similar fate. ]

[ There's the slightest flinch in an automatic reaction when she asks how she was supposed to know and for the reason preceding it before a sort of clarification follows. One he also understands - it's not like he hadn't used the same rationalization for himself over and over in denial that it wasn't working and hadn't gotten rid of any of those wishes. It stings in a sort of abstract way since he recognizes that's not how it was truly meant even before Hilda moves to say so, but it does touch upon the fear he's harbored that it'd always been just that like a finger pressed into a not yet healed injury. One of the many reasons he'd not said a word in case Hilda chose to confirm it as much long after Claude realized that for himself it'd stopped being that so long ago he couldn't pinpoint when it'd changed. It'd moved as seamlessly from that to something so much more every bit as much as they'd moved together.

But this doesn't seem like a refusal of that; if it was, he's heard Hilda be blunt with enough people over the years to know there's no chance she would've brushed it off to wrap up in something else. Their fight's proof enough of that ability to be direct if he'd ever doubted it. Whatever feeling he'd had about missing something here feels like it's been all but confirmed as Hilda works through finding what she wants to say, and Claude wills himself to have all the patience in the world and half as much again. He's waited for longer even if his mind is trying to convince him otherwise right now and he's narrowly avoiding something crossing into actual concern about where this is headed. I'll believe that when Hilda says it herself, his own voice echoes back to him from a memory, and it's hard to let that thought go.

What if he'd waited too long? What if there is no coming back from everything? On sleepless nights where his mind wouldn't stop those were two questions he'd agonized over even in the midst of telling himself he didn't care, that it didn't matter, and any number of other lies like it'd vanquish what he knew was the truth. If it is a denial, he'll have earned that.

It's a complicated symphony of thoughts racing through his mind, and ones that only get louder and quieter in equal measure when her hand finds his. Even when her expression shifts just as suddenly to something else he can't place, even when it causes his breath to pause, even when she says his name to -

- to what will be an unknown, because suddenly there's a blur of leathery wings and scales launching past him and for a millisecond all Claude can do is stare. What he doesn't have to think twice about is reflexes kicking into action since Hilda keeps the wyvern from falling but doesn't do anything for herself as she gets perilously close to the ledge and sends his heart into the back of his throat. Instinct has him launching himself forward to wrap his arms around her to pull her back in what's far from graceful from the immediate need of safety. The wyvern complains the whole way either because its fun was interrupted, because it's being held again, or simply because that's what wyverns do, but Claude can't focus on that.

Not when they've fallen yet again into something not unlike on a warehouse floor where they'd frozen up into cracking their hearts even further with fissures, or a reverberation of all those nights in bed where they'd ended up like this and he'd leaned over her and thought maybe now, I could say something now only to lean down and instead whisper something in her ear that'd make her laugh and push him away so he could pull her closer again. Now Claude pauses with his breath still held, another unasked question on parted lips as he looks down at her. Is that all you have to say? ]

[ Hilda knows that she's forgotten something crucial the moment the wyvern is encased in her arms. They're on a roof. Several feet up the ground. A fall from this height wouldn't be fatal but it would hurt and Hilda hated getting hurt and not just in an instinctual, humans shy from pain sort of way. She was hurt averse in a cultivated over several years sort of way where she immediately shut down any risk where she foresaw that happening.

She braces herself waiting for gravity to take its hold, but a similar sensation to the one she had experienced at the warehouse occurs instead. Strong, warm arms encircle her, pulling her close and suddenly instead of blue skies all she can see are a beloved pair of green eyes staring back at her. A small cry of protest from between them signals that their new charge is very unhappy with this turn of events, but the bird it had been hunting is long gone and Hilda is too entranced by how close Claude is to her to rectify it. They're close enough that she can see the way gold catches in the green of his eyes, close enough to catch the hint of pine on his skin and parchment on his clothes signaling he must have been balancing books before arriving here.

Unbeknownst to her the thoughts running through her mind are of a similar nature to the ones flashing through Claude's. His fall had dislodged some of his hair and were she not holding the wyvern, she would have reached out to brush it back into place. Even that phantom action doesn't come without an attached memory of times when she had done that for him on lazy warm days hidden expertly in the garden when they had skipped a class and she fondly watched him dozing off under the sun like a cat. Or times when they had been pressed together between sheets, bathing in the afterglow with the light sheen of sweat on his forehead and what she wanted to be affection lingering in the air.

In that moment that they stare at one another Hilda's mind goes blank before her insecurities begin rushing in. What had she had for lunch and did her breath smell? Had the make-up under her eyes smudged during her work earlier, dislodging the illusion of nights well slept? Can he feel how hard her heart is hammering in her chest? Oh Goddess, he had been waiting for her to say something, hadn't he? Claude doesn't have to ask the question again. It lingers in the air unspoken between them but whatever loose threads of bravery she had pulled together feel like they've flown off with the bird. ]

Uhm -

[ Heat seers her cheeks. If she didn't say it now, then when? A part of her wants to take the easy way out: she wants to kiss him and hope that whatever feelings she's never been able to express will translate into that and be enough. But not talking, not communicating had been the root of hurt that had started it all. Her feelings whirl inside her demanding to be felt, all pleading to be expressed as they sit just behind her teeth. There's so much she could tell him but one sentiment rings true: That all versions of her - who she is now, whoever she might be, whatever is left of her after the war in their timeline or someone else's - is his. It's always been his. It always would be even if he chose another heart to hold or flew off to Almyra and never looked back.

But her eloquence and flowery words are choked by weeds and roots and she falters again just in time for the wyvern to let out a piercing screech, apparently fed up with being squished. Its talons flail narrowly scratching Claude's face but scratching hers. She lets out a cry that is more surprise than pain but she still holds fast, wiggling backwards so there's some room for the wyvern to breathe and putting space between her and Claude. ]

I was going to say I think I had a name for it but I might have to suggest something like 'Sharp Claw' instead.

[ It's said with a huff that is equal parts both exasperated and weary. Her eyes begin to water from the sting and red begins to bloom from the shallow scratch on her cheek. ]

Edited (I can't write soz) 2023-08-21 07:40 (UTC)

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