[ To hear not once but twice now that he thought that she never wanted him is a surreal thing to wrap her mind around - especially when she's admitted that she has never seen herself as more than a fleeting whimsy and then nothing more than just a friend. What does she have to offer aside from a pretty face and the ear of the man holding Fodlan's Locket closed?
As much as her heart wants to leap at his admission of wanting her as much as she had, her grip holds tight around the ties she's strapped around it for fear of it inflating too full of misguided hope. For all her posturing about how anyone would be lucky to spend time with her, it's all surface level to some degree. A dinner here, a walk through the markets there, stolen kisses and nights turned mornings - none of those things account to anything serious or long term.
She'd marry some day (or, she thinks humourlessly to herself, never, if Holst and her father had any say about their precious flower straying too far from Goneril) and she's under no disillusion that there's some unfortunate scenario that it would be arranged. That's why letting anything go deeper than flirting is impossible for her to imagine with any amount of seriousness. If she did it would probably look like meeting someone's parents like Claude had suggested and that would mean –
That train of thought comes to an immediate halt when Claude manages to lays another piece of their crumbling ruin of a relationship back into place. In repose she nods, immediately averting her gaze away from him. That doesn't stop her hands from returning the squeeze of his hands like he's some lifeline she both needs and doesn't want to need.
His words feel like a double edged sword and don't bring as much comfort as she thinks he intends. Realistically she should be concentrating on the good which, really, all of it is. He's saying the things she's been hoping he would for years. And Claude admitting that he has anything at all with Sylvain without denial or hesitation speaks volumes about how he's changed and grown. It makes her proud. It makes her sick with envy and jealousy. This is exactly what she's been trying to avoid.
She looks at him despairingly, shame stretching across her face. ]
And you might be okay with that, but I don't know if I can be. All I've been feeling is jealousy and guilt. Even now, I can't just be happy for you. I can't even be happy about this. I'm awful.
[ The white noise at the back of her brain begins to make itself known and she begins to pull her hands away from his. ]
I don't want to be selfish anymore. Maybe our time has come and gone, Claude. [ False levity is injected into her voice, the corners of her lips tugging into something resembling a smile. ] But that's okay because these things happen. I'll be a better friend. I just want the both of you to be happy at the end of the day.
no subject
As much as her heart wants to leap at his admission of wanting her as much as she had, her grip holds tight around the ties she's strapped around it for fear of it inflating too full of misguided hope. For all her posturing about how anyone would be lucky to spend time with her, it's all surface level to some degree. A dinner here, a walk through the markets there, stolen kisses and nights turned mornings - none of those things account to anything serious or long term.
She'd marry some day (or, she thinks humourlessly to herself, never, if Holst and her father had any say about their precious flower straying too far from Goneril) and she's under no disillusion that there's some unfortunate scenario that it would be arranged. That's why letting anything go deeper than flirting is impossible for her to imagine with any amount of seriousness. If she did it would probably look like meeting someone's parents like Claude had suggested and that would mean –
That train of thought comes to an immediate halt when Claude manages to lays another piece of their crumbling ruin of a relationship back into place. In repose she nods, immediately averting her gaze away from him. That doesn't stop her hands from returning the squeeze of his hands like he's some lifeline she both needs and doesn't want to need.
His words feel like a double edged sword and don't bring as much comfort as she thinks he intends. Realistically she should be concentrating on the good which, really, all of it is. He's saying the things she's been hoping he would for years. And Claude admitting that he has anything at all with Sylvain without denial or hesitation speaks volumes about how he's changed and grown. It makes her proud. It makes her sick with envy and jealousy. This is exactly what she's been trying to avoid.
She looks at him despairingly, shame stretching across her face. ]
And you might be okay with that, but I don't know if I can be. All I've been feeling is jealousy and guilt. Even now, I can't just be happy for you. I can't even be happy about this. I'm awful.
[ The white noise at the back of her brain begins to make itself known and she begins to pull her hands away from his. ]
I don't want to be selfish anymore. Maybe our time has come and gone, Claude. [ False levity is injected into her voice, the corners of her lips tugging into something resembling a smile. ] But that's okay because these things happen. I'll be a better friend. I just want the both of you to be happy at the end of the day.