Claire doesn’t look disappointed in herself; after all, she’s never done this before. It was all trial and error and magic. Magic she’s still learning, herself. Instead, she takes note and tries to think of where she might have gone wrong on the sizing.
“As long as you’re sure. I think I could possibly get one to half this; it must be connected to the initial growing stage.” She’s going to ruminate on it anyway, unable to let a puzzle go when she’s almost got it.
Since meeting Hilda, they’ve had a lot of tea together. Never once has she seen the young woman burn her tongue. “Are you alright? Not to pry, it’s only that you seem…a bit flustered.”
Claire puts a pause on Hilda’s question, wanting to make sure first that nothing is wrong.
"Flustered?" She can't help but echo Claire's question back to her like a parrot. A part of her had hoped that she'd move on from the subject and she could make up a convenient half truth about what she'd done with the tree once Claude's birthday came to pass.
Despite herself a mildly strained laugh flutters from her lips. "No, no I'm just -," she starts before stopping herself short. Only moments ago she had come to terms with spinning up some kind of half-truth to give Claire about a tree that she isn't sure she has use for any longer. But lying to Claire might as well have been like lying to her own mother.
She sucks in a breath before letting it out, eyes darting away and keeping a firm gaze at the liquid in her cup. Inside her mind, she debates the pros and cons of admitting to Claire something that she shouldn't involve her in. After all, they had already inadvertently involved Sylvain. Her fingers curl tight around the porcelain, recalling the fight that she'd had with Claude all over again. Before she can lose the nerve, the words are forced out of her, but they're more of a mumble than anything else. "I might have gotten in a fight with Claude."
Claire waits patiently, taking a delicate sip of her tea. If Hilda wants to talk about it, she will. And if not, Claire won't push, just worry from afar. The last thing she wants to do is smother her—Hilda's a grown woman after all. But then the quiet truth comes out and her shoulders sink; she likes Claude immensely as well, so hearing that two of her favorite people are arguing deflates her a bit.
"Oh, Hilda, I'm sorry. I know that must feel awful." One hand reaches out to squeeze hers in support. "Please know I'm here if you'd like to talk about it, or we can completely ignore it and leave here to go drown ourselves in sweets."
Whatever the young woman needs; she's been so much of a support to Claire, a light. The least she can do is attempt to listen if needed.
The corners of Hilda's lips lift ever so slightly. A laugh flutters from her lips although it's a weak one, with hardly any mirth in it. "Well, you know me, I'm never going to say no to drowning myself in sweets,"
Maybe it would be worth talking about with Claire. A small, internal battle rages. It hadn't been that long since their spa date disaster with Sylvain and the sting of being scolded is still fresh. She knew that Claude had met Claire - the last thing she wanted to do was involve someone else and put them in an uncomfortable position.
But if there was anyone who might be able to be neutral third party...maybe it would be Claire. She returns her squeeze. "It does and it doesn't," she starts, "I just...I thought we told each other everything but he kept some really important things from me. And those are just the things I had inklings of." The furrow in her brow is less sad and more frustrated as she recalls their fight.
"I knew he kept things from me at home but I was fine with it then - but I'm not now." Her gaze meets Claire's as if trying to search for some form of validation for her hurt. "That's okay, isn't it? To have your feelings change?"
"Darling, of course it is," Claire says first. Because it is okay, though that doesn't always mean it makes things alright for the other person.
"Bear in mind that I don't know what he's told you, and it's entirely up to you whether or not you feel you can tell me that part of it. But...is it possible there were things left unsaid because of how it might hurt either of you?"
Usually, omitting things is to keep from inflicting unnecessary pain. Her mind briefly flickers to the fact that Jamie married the woman who tried to murder her, during Claire's 20 year absence. If he'd told her his own way instead of her finding out accidentally, would she have felt any better?
"Even if that's the case, you're still right. Feelings change as time passes, that's perfectly normal."
There's a part of Hilda that wants to tell Claire everything, pour out her heart about all of the hurt that she had been carrying for months that had ended up morphing into a completely different beast comprised of jealousy and anger. She had been so sorely missing the people that she would feel comfortable enough doing that around, missing those that she could show her vast array of emotions to even if they didn't necessarily align with what her delicate flower facade.
Hilda's comfort level with Claire already surpassed the point where she felt like she could let some of her glass walls down. But the fear that it would change Claire's perception of her still persisted. Regardless of what she wants though, the frustration winning out over the caution.
"I gave him a chance to say whatever it was he wanted to say but he just evaded it," she starts, annoyance creeping into her voice, "All I wanted was the truth but it's been seven months since I arrived here. He's had plenty of time to tell me those things and he didn't. There were things about the war - about our friends not making it - that he didn't tell me. And I think I deserve to know that, don't you?" Her gaze had dropped to her teacup and they turn to Claire again.
That was perhaps where some of her hurt lay. That despite everything that they had gone through, through all the moments they'd had, he still chose to withhold things from her. She swallows, some hurt creeping into her words this time. "If he didn't want to be my best friend anymore, he should have just said so."
Claire listens patiently, trying to stay objective. Asking someone outright and not getting a straight answer—especially when it involves you—is understandably difficult to get past. The fact that it's someone she deeply cares for adds another layer to things.
"Before I answer your question, I'd like to ask you one of my own," she says gently, reaching for Hilda's hand and holding on.
"As your best friend, is it possible that he had the best of intentions in mind and was trying to protect you? Regardless of whether it was right or wrong, is that what he might have been attempting to do?"
She thinks of the twenty years she didn't tell the truth to Brianna, and how awful that had gone when it all finally came out. It wasn't just that Frank forbade Claire from speaking about Jamie; she would have found a way if she'd truly wanted. But it wouldn't have done anyone any good, and then her daughter would have had unanswerable questions, so what was the point? Except that there was a wedge between them that grew and grew, until a canyon existed between them, filled with the secrets of Claire's past.
At Claire's touch and words, Hilda immediately stills. It's not so unlike moments she'd had with her own mother growing up when she had been having some kind of outburst or was upset. All it took most of the time was a soothing voice, and safe space to bring her back down to earth.
But even Claire's very rational question isn't enough to dispel the hurt and doubt that had been festering in Hilda's body for the last several months. For the first time since her fight with Claude, Hilda can't help but feel unsteady even as she grips Claire's hand in return. "He admitted as much," she starts, shifting slightly in her seat. There's a reluctance in her voice, as if she can't bear to bring herself to forgive him.
"Back home -," she starts haltingly as her other hand clenches into a fist in her lap, "he was just planning on leaving after the war. He wasn't going to say anything to anyone. Not to our friends, not to me."
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no subject
“As long as you’re sure. I think I could possibly get one to half this; it must be connected to the initial growing stage.” She’s going to ruminate on it anyway, unable to let a puzzle go when she’s almost got it.
Since meeting Hilda, they’ve had a lot of tea together. Never once has she seen the young woman burn her tongue. “Are you alright? Not to pry, it’s only that you seem…a bit flustered.”
Claire puts a pause on Hilda’s question, wanting to make sure first that nothing is wrong.
no subject
Despite herself a mildly strained laugh flutters from her lips. "No, no I'm just -," she starts before stopping herself short. Only moments ago she had come to terms with spinning up some kind of half-truth to give Claire about a tree that she isn't sure she has use for any longer. But lying to Claire might as well have been like lying to her own mother.
She sucks in a breath before letting it out, eyes darting away and keeping a firm gaze at the liquid in her cup. Inside her mind, she debates the pros and cons of admitting to Claire something that she shouldn't involve her in. After all, they had already inadvertently involved Sylvain. Her fingers curl tight around the porcelain, recalling the fight that she'd had with Claude all over again. Before she can lose the nerve, the words are forced out of her, but they're more of a mumble than anything else. "I might have gotten in a fight with Claude."
no subject
"Oh, Hilda, I'm sorry. I know that must feel awful." One hand reaches out to squeeze hers in support. "Please know I'm here if you'd like to talk about it, or we can completely ignore it and leave here to go drown ourselves in sweets."
Whatever the young woman needs; she's been so much of a support to Claire, a light. The least she can do is attempt to listen if needed.
no subject
Maybe it would be worth talking about with Claire. A small, internal battle rages. It hadn't been that long since their spa date disaster with Sylvain and the sting of being scolded is still fresh. She knew that Claude had met Claire - the last thing she wanted to do was involve someone else and put them in an uncomfortable position.
But if there was anyone who might be able to be neutral third party...maybe it would be Claire. She returns her squeeze. "It does and it doesn't," she starts, "I just...I thought we told each other everything but he kept some really important things from me. And those are just the things I had inklings of." The furrow in her brow is less sad and more frustrated as she recalls their fight.
"I knew he kept things from me at home but I was fine with it then - but I'm not now." Her gaze meets Claire's as if trying to search for some form of validation for her hurt. "That's okay, isn't it? To have your feelings change?"
no subject
"Bear in mind that I don't know what he's told you, and it's entirely up to you whether or not you feel you can tell me that part of it. But...is it possible there were things left unsaid because of how it might hurt either of you?"
Usually, omitting things is to keep from inflicting unnecessary pain. Her mind briefly flickers to the fact that Jamie married the woman who tried to murder her, during Claire's 20 year absence. If he'd told her his own way instead of her finding out accidentally, would she have felt any better?
"Even if that's the case, you're still right. Feelings change as time passes, that's perfectly normal."
no subject
Hilda's comfort level with Claire already surpassed the point where she felt like she could let some of her glass walls down. But the fear that it would change Claire's perception of her still persisted. Regardless of what she wants though, the frustration winning out over the caution.
"I gave him a chance to say whatever it was he wanted to say but he just evaded it," she starts, annoyance creeping into her voice, "All I wanted was the truth but it's been seven months since I arrived here. He's had plenty of time to tell me those things and he didn't. There were things about the war - about our friends not making it - that he didn't tell me. And I think I deserve to know that, don't you?" Her gaze had dropped to her teacup and they turn to Claire again.
That was perhaps where some of her hurt lay. That despite everything that they had gone through, through all the moments they'd had, he still chose to withhold things from her. She swallows, some hurt creeping into her words this time. "If he didn't want to be my best friend anymore, he should have just said so."
no subject
"Before I answer your question, I'd like to ask you one of my own," she says gently, reaching for Hilda's hand and holding on.
"As your best friend, is it possible that he had the best of intentions in mind and was trying to protect you? Regardless of whether it was right or wrong, is that what he might have been attempting to do?"
She thinks of the twenty years she didn't tell the truth to Brianna, and how awful that had gone when it all finally came out. It wasn't just that Frank forbade Claire from speaking about Jamie; she would have found a way if she'd truly wanted. But it wouldn't have done anyone any good, and then her daughter would have had unanswerable questions, so what was the point? Except that there was a wedge between them that grew and grew, until a canyon existed between them, filled with the secrets of Claire's past.
no subject
But even Claire's very rational question isn't enough to dispel the hurt and doubt that had been festering in Hilda's body for the last several months. For the first time since her fight with Claude, Hilda can't help but feel unsteady even as she grips Claire's hand in return. "He admitted as much," she starts, shifting slightly in her seat. There's a reluctance in her voice, as if she can't bear to bring herself to forgive him.
"Back home -," she starts haltingly as her other hand clenches into a fist in her lap, "he was just planning on leaving after the war. He wasn't going to say anything to anyone. Not to our friends, not to me."