[ Even Claude's very audible arrival in front of her doesn't giver her time to rearrange her face into something resembling normal. Her best efforts result in a catastrophic failure and what's revealed are flushed cheeks and wide eyes of conflicting emotions. A wet laugh splinters its way past her lips, mostly at the shock that lingers from his touch and the way he holds her hands in his. ]
That was well on its way to being a speech and probably one of the least romantic things I can think of right now.
[ She hopes that this won't continue back down a serious path but it does much to her dismay.
The answer to his question is obvious. It beats loudly in her heart, sending reverberations up her throat to the tip of her tongue before hitting the back of her teeth. Her mind clings desperately onto the incorrect notion that voicing it will only end horribly despite the admissions that had been spoken between them. The very real worry that if speaks more, the truth she had been so close to admitting atop Cyprian's workshop life would immediately shatter the resolve she's been trying to bolster for several months now.
Deflection calls to her like a siren's call. To put this off for a little while longer so she can continue to try and be the good friend. The graceful flower she's so desperately trying to hold onto while grinding her feelings for Claude, the jealousy towards his relationship with Sylvain, and her own blossoming feelings for the Faerghan into the ground beneath her heel - all with a bright smile on her face.
Unless it was in a work of fiction complicated has never been her cup of tea. It never suited her. It never would. Her brain simply isn't built that way and neither, it would seem, is her heart. And this is a very complicated situation with higher stakes than she's ever been willing to gamble. The creature clicks its tongue mockingly – unsurprisingly, her bravery continues to be a fickle thing. She almost flinches back away, but the gentle anchor of Claude's hand in hers propels her to push through it.
Wanting should be easy for her. Being demanding and greedy is as easy an instinct as breathing but she doesn't want to be either of those things here. Her voice is all quiet desperation and confliction, a part of her still afraid of the unknown before them. ]
You. I want you. I want us. Because even if we aren't from the same timeline and I'll never be half the person you are, every version of me will probably gravitate towards you anyway.
[ After all what more is she than the stars to the backdrop of his shining moon while Sylvain is the bright sun? They seem a better fit in more ways than one. A lump forms in her throat, emotions culminating in the threat of tears that she manages to hold back. ]
Even if it could happen, I didn't know what that would look like in Fodlan and I don't know what that looks like here. I can't...I'm not going to get in the way of whatever you and Sylvain have.
no subject
That was well on its way to being a speech and probably one of the least romantic things I can think of right now.
[ She hopes that this won't continue back down a serious path but it does much to her dismay.
The answer to his question is obvious. It beats loudly in her heart, sending reverberations up her throat to the tip of her tongue before hitting the back of her teeth. Her mind clings desperately onto the incorrect notion that voicing it will only end horribly despite the admissions that had been spoken between them. The very real worry that if speaks more, the truth she had been so close to admitting atop Cyprian's workshop life would immediately shatter the resolve she's been trying to bolster for several months now.
Deflection calls to her like a siren's call. To put this off for a little while longer so she can continue to try and be the good friend. The graceful flower she's so desperately trying to hold onto while grinding her feelings for Claude, the jealousy towards his relationship with Sylvain, and her own blossoming feelings for the Faerghan into the ground beneath her heel - all with a bright smile on her face.
Unless it was in a work of fiction complicated has never been her cup of tea. It never suited her. It never would. Her brain simply isn't built that way and neither, it would seem, is her heart. And this is a very complicated situation with higher stakes than she's ever been willing to gamble. The creature clicks its tongue mockingly – unsurprisingly, her bravery continues to be a fickle thing. She almost flinches back away, but the gentle anchor of Claude's hand in hers propels her to push through it.
Wanting should be easy for her. Being demanding and greedy is as easy an instinct as breathing but she doesn't want to be either of those things here. Her voice is all quiet desperation and confliction, a part of her still afraid of the unknown before them. ]
You. I want you. I want us. Because even if we aren't from the same timeline and I'll never be half the person you are, every version of me will probably gravitate towards you anyway.
[ After all what more is she than the stars to the backdrop of his shining moon while Sylvain is the bright sun? They seem a better fit in more ways than one. A lump forms in her throat, emotions culminating in the threat of tears that she manages to hold back. ]
Even if it could happen, I didn't know what that would look like in Fodlan and I don't know what that looks like here. I can't...I'm not going to get in the way of whatever you and Sylvain have.