abraxaslogs | [ CLOSED ] the dawn is opening

Entry tags:

[ CLOSED ] the dawn is opening

Who: Claude and various
When: September, October, November
Where: Cadens, Libertas, the Horizon
What: Catch all
Warnings: None currently, will add/mark as needed

( Closed starters below. Find me at

indech, on Discord, or by PM at any time to plot something! )

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[ Letting her eyes close Hilda wastes no time settling into the tub and focusing on relaxing. Not that she had been tense before. The day had gone well and all the things that she claims not to have worried about didn't arise. This was a perfectly normal outing between two friends - one who used to have feelings for the other and one who currently did. And the "perfectly normal" also includes the baffling couple spa package that they had walked themselves into. There's nothing odd or out of the ordinary about that. Scenarios like this happen all the time.

As for her eyes closing, well. She tells herself it's to give Claude privacy as he disrobes and steps into the tub because why would it have anything to do with dispelling the intrusive voice telling her to take a peek at him as he does? The answer: it wouldn't and it doesn't. This is a perfectly platonic soak with a friend who happens to be a roomate. His mock offence is like a siren's call however and she can't help but peel an eye open to give him a skeptical, but equally joking, look.

The unmistakable delight in his voice gives her pause and her previous thought from before surfaces: surely all of this hadn't been on purpose. The evidence laid out from before including the surprise on his face when the attendants had said this was a couples package proved as much. Platonic, she tells herself. This is all purely platonic. It's no different than the delight she feels when she's stumbled upon something that a friend enjoys. ]

We had this conversation before - I can only give you so many compliments at a time. And by my count we're already up to three or four. [ Any illusion of skepticism is dashed by the lift of her lips. ] But I suppose I wouldn't complain. We might just have to avoid the couples packages from here on out unless we get some kind of free gift with it though.

If we're only at three or four then that means there's probably more compliments yet. What was the upper limit you'd said that one time, ten? See, plenty of room left.

[ He's making that up. There probably was a limit Hilda mentioned at one point, Claude's positive, but did he retain it? Of course not. That would've meant giving up on wheedling whatever added compliments out of her he could have then, not to mention what he's attempting to do here now, even if it'd likely also been by virtue of annoying them out of her.

The thought of it has him grinning a little in a way which can't be entirely attributed to mischief even if Claude's assuming that's what it's for. It's more like a flash of giddiness, perhaps, as the closest comparison when it comes to if he had to describe it, and that's entirely due to Hilda being here. That this is something more like how it used to be even with the struggle he's having to remind himself to not read into it, to not attribute too much when there'd been months where they couldn't stand to be in the same room. And certainly, there's that complicating factor still of this being for couples when he'd merely said it'd be a party of two to treat a very good friend, but it's working out.

Claude's overlooking the mention of avoiding it being something to avoid. Instead he tilts his head back to peer at the table where the attendant had set a few things down they could add to the tub if they wanted to, but - ]

Now that you've said that, I was hoping there might've been a wine bottle I overlooked up there if they're going for romance here. That would've been a nice touch, but I guess we'll have to save that for after we're out of here.

Uh, no it definitely wasn't ten. Nice try though. It was more like five which means you have two left today at most.

[ There's an unspoken, "If I'm feeling generous," lingers in the air by way of a threat along with the very telltale sound of attitude beginning to creep into her voice. Not enough yet to be annoyed because she's had a far better handle on keeping that particular emotion in check since her unofficial return to the loft, but enough to hint that it could go down that road should Claude push his luck. Which he would because it was Claude she was talking to who loved nothing more than to annoy her and seemed to love compliments from her even if they were prickly ones.

When she had agreed to go back to the loft for dinner the day they had found the wyvern she hadn't verbally agreed to or thought that she'd move back in then and there. Like so many things in her life she took it a day at a time, trying her best to squeeze every moment she could out of the time she was living. At least that's what she told herself. Her indecision and refusal to sleep there that evening had simply because she didn't want to intrude on the things she could see in front of her. The forced bed rest resulting in her staying had been one of the few good things to come from her near death experience even if she hadn't spoken to either of them about moving back in an official capacity.

The flip side of that also (unfortunately) means that she has to try and ease back into a semblance of normalcy - or new normalcy - with not just Sylvain but Claude too. Adjusting to a new dynamic is something she never thought she'd have to do especially with the latter.

Her gaze follows his towards the table. Wine did sound nice right about now. ]

To quote you, there's no harm in asking. Or maybe it's waiting for us at the end of this. Although with all our protests about not being a couple, I don't think they're going to buy that this is a date anymore.

[ Predictably, there's a put upon groan from him at the idea of that limit being reached so much sooner. As if he won't possibly survive with his ego so clearly on the verge of collapse for a lack of appreciation if more than a half an hour or whatever other arbitrary amount of time goes by without one, and he turns back around from his barely-even-a-search for wine like this is gravely disappointing.

It's not, and he's over it a second later since there's probably an unseen line in the sand drawn somewhere. One he doesn't want to cross without knowing where it is, since if there'd been anything convenient about the more literal ones they'd drawn in the aftermath of everything to further the wreckage created it was seeing them. There's no credit due there since the drawing of them caused even more fault lines to appear, and now it feels like his feet are metaphorically bumping up against the crumbling edge of one.

No matter. There's enough to focus on here as he drags his mind back to the present where it seems the wine is a mutually mourned item though Claude has to laugh at that last part. ]

Maybe we should have played up the date part to get some more out of this. It's probably not too late to turn that around. [ Conspiratorially and without even the tiniest amount of guilt considering that is the experience they've been granted with that upgrade, right? Might as well see what it'd gift them, or something like that. ] I mean, they practically suggested it to us themselves. We are here together after I planned it, so it wouldn't be that much of a stretch to -

[ Wait.

Wait a minute - ]

[ Hilda is torn between agreeing to play into this ridiculous scheme. It wouldn't be the first time she's played the part of one half of a couple; doing so had gotten her out of a sticky situation upon her first meeting with Blake and the joke persisted to this day. And she and Claude had played the part of couple in the past if it meant benefiting them somehow. That being said, playing pretend with the wrong person could very well be a slippery slope into things she's vehemently trying to avoid. Thankfully, Claude babbling on gives her more time to internally debate with herself.

But then he stops and the strangest look crosses his face. ]

A stretch to what?

[ A hand emerges from the water to wave in front of his face. ]

Hello? Claude? You can't just cut yourself off in the middle of a sentence - finish the thought.

[ Realizations seem to be infectious today. Or maybe it's because they're slowly beginning to fall back in sync that her mind finally puts together the pieces that she isn't sure that even Claude was aware he was laying out in front of them. Her hand drops into the water with a resounding splash.

Oh.

Oh no.

There's another pause before she lets out something that should have been a laugh except it's more nervous breath than anything else. ]

By plan, you mean, just an outing. Between friends, right?

[ She's providing him an out. A means of confirmation so that he doesn't have to voice what she thinks he's realized is a silly little mistake meant for someone with red hair and not pink. ]

I-

[ He should be ready to answer. There's no reason for him to not be, not as quickly as he tends to find a response to anything thrown his direction whether it was expected or a complete surprise. Recovering, thinking on his feet, volleying something right back - all skills Claude prides himself on, and all ones which fail him now.

Hilda's question is a simple one. In the words, at least, and in what's being asked, but it's the answer which is anything but.

It hadn't been his intention when planning this for it to be a date. Somehow that had escaped his notice when he'd brought up the idea of having a day to do whatever she might want to do once she'd healed. Hilda had agreed, and then as he tended to do, he'd run with the ideas from there. Deciding to add on one more or things he also knows she enjoys just to cap off the day is far too deliberate for it to be considered just an outing.

Sometimes, the only answer to wavering on something is to take the leap of faith and hope for the best. That's by far not Claude's favored way in dealing with anything he wants to know what with looking for every contingency and having a well-laid out plan for each one. On this, he simply doesn't have the time - and taking the time to do that would be far worse, he thinks as he takes a deep breath and then shakes his head slowly. ]

No, I don't mean that. I don't think calling this a date would be so far off after all, Hilda.

[ The time it takes for Claude to answer her question seems to stretch and for some odd reason she braces herself. It's a strange reaction to have considering there's no way that this could be the word that starts with a "d" and ends with an "e". At least not a purposeful one.

Claude had said plainly himself that he didn't have feelings for her like that anymore. Dates were for people who shared mutual feelings for each other or were trying to figure out if they had feelings for and the feelings in question were one sided but soon to be (hopefully, maybe, Goddess willing), gone. She shouldn’t be bracing for anything - not hope, not disappointment. The only emotion that should be there are nerves because she didn't know what he was going to say.

That’s why the only reasonable response to his baffling response and short stretch of silence is laughter of the nervous kind. ...Which is followed by some very embarrassing stuttering that if she were teased about she would be nothing short of livid. ]

What do you mean you would call it a date? You don't - we aren't - I -

[ She cuts herself short. A part of her is tempted to laugh more, say that he had her going there for a second because there's no way he would seriously take her on a date. Except there's no punchline, no follow-up crinkle of his eyes as he struggles to hold back a laugh. There's nothing but green eyes piercing her in the same way he fires his arrows and making her all too aware of the heat rising to her cheeks. ]

I don't understand. You've never taken me on a date. Why would you start now?

[ Even if he'd made the decision to set them onto this path, what with backing down from it not being an option after months of - everything, her response doesn't inspire confidence. Not that it's unfair for it to do so, though as he watches Hilda reconcile this into Claude can't help but wonder why it seems so surprising to her.

Because that's part of the issue, isn't it? That, as she points out, there's been no dates before in any sense of Before? Still, he can't help the rueful smile that comes to his face immediately in the aftermath of her speaking. ]

I think it was pointed out to me before that war wasn't exactly the time for any notions of romance. The same can probably be said for any kind of strife since.

[ Dryly, since that seems better than his other reaction of wanting to drag a hand down his face as she continues to stare back at him like he's said something so completely unpredictable she doesn't know what to do with it. But he is watching her carefully still, feeling a bit like he's floundering around in a dark room looking for a candle to light in the form of clarity when that doesn't offer him anything but the confirmation she's genuinely puzzled.

But the why for that reaction even after their last conversation of dancing around a topic adjacent to this one where she'd had much the same flush and sputtering in response to what he'd said - hadn't he made it clear? Try as he might and though Claude succeeds in keeping his voice even, it's too difficult to not let trepidation in. ]

Would it really be so terrible if this was a date?

[ Maybe that genuine question is a better place to start. Maybe it'll unravel the rest of what's going unsaid when the last thing he wants to do is assume too much even as his mind is already turning over the possibilities he's now ignoring - not when that'd gotten them to a very different place when he doesn't want to repeat anything close to it. ]

[ Her mouth opens and closes, grasping for both an answer and at the absurdity of this situation and how it doesn't quite feel like this should be happening at all. ]

That - this isn't the same thing.

[ Hearing her words, which are still true to this day, repeated back to her only seem to further her flustered state. It softens what she says next, eliminating any sort of jealous tone that could have been there but isn't because what she says is simply a fact. ]

Strife wasn't happening the entire time we were here. You've been on at least one date with Sylvain.

[ Lack of time feels like a poor excuse to use, especially when she had arrived here in the dead of winter and now they were nearing the end of summer. None of that was accounting for the time that he had spent in a literal pit of course. She could be many things but unreasonable isn't one of them. At least, not in this situation.

So why she's trying to make a point or sound like she's arguing (because she isn't, not really) is beyond her. In some ways it's easier to compartmentalize and distill this moment into one of those times when Claude proposes something ridiculous and she's just trying to keep him honest and realistic. Easier because it means that she can stay rooted in this delusion of hers for a little while longer and not have to think so hard about feelings - which is arguably one of her least favourite things to do. Unfortunately all of those things are difficult when the nervousness in his voice tugs incessantly at her resolve. ]

No. Yes. I don't know.

[ A noise of helpless exasperation escapes her. Panic prickles at the base of her skull and she can hear herself begin to ramble. Apparently all it had taken was Claude's trepidation to dislodge the last stone holding back her torrent of words. ]

It's just that you said that you had feelings for me. And friends can go on perfectly platonic dates, but you're implying that this isn't. Which means that this is either an awful joke that I've completely missed the punchline on or you're trying to cover up for the fact that you and Sylvain were meant to come here instead of me. Which again, is fine, but I wish you would just tell me if that was the case because I'm trying really hard to put whatever feelings I - [ Her words cut off abruptly as her heartbeat thrums loudly in her ears. She takes in a breath, the stark realization that she had said too much dawning on her. There's another beat before she speaks again. ] I'm just trying to be a better friend and feelings complicate that. A date would complicate that.

[ Strife factors into a lot of things here, Claude thinks. It hadn't been just accounting for the world's greater events but also the ones between them when she'd pulled away and he'd watched uncertainly until it was too late and it'd built into the detonation that'd leveled them both, but that'd be going over things they already both know. No part of that will help so in lieu of that Claude presses his lips together in a slight line, the only reaction he gives since that'd be derailing his own waiting for something he very much wants to know without the influence of anything else.

No is a positive, but the yes immediately following it - that's difficult to not feel the sting of it even as Hilda corrects herself again right after. Claude does nothing but wait with a steady hold on patience - that is, until she speaks again and each sentence one after another makes his blood feel like it chills in degrees. He'd started to sit up since slouching for this conversation doesn't feel right but he pauses, unsure of what exactly his expression is while he processes everything said.

There's too many competing and somehow still synced thoughts for it to be anything but the truth. That much he recognizes even while desperately forcing them through his mind to help them make sense. In there, he hears things said as facts: Hilda still thinks being here wasn't intentional, and if it wasn't then this is possibly some kind of ploy with no room for anything else. Feelings, whatever they are, are interfering with being a friend and how from there it's not difficult to extrapolate her answer about whether a date would be a problem just might actually be yes.

That rapid spiral of examining it all doesn't get him any closer when it comes to yet another break in what she was going to say and then what was said next like on the rooftop. While it feels like he can guess what fits into that blank space, it doesn't explain something else. ]

Wait a minute. What do you mean 'had' like that's something of the past?

[ A response to the rest is forthcoming, but Claude can't get past that one word. It sounds almost as if it's what Hilda's been hinging everything on in a way that's thrown him for a loop into genuine confusion. Now it's his turn to feel almost like she's playing some kind of prank on him he's too slow to pick up on, and whether he was intending for the same level of honesty wrapped up in those words remains to be seen. Perhaps it won't matter if it wasn't meant to be there; that's just answering her with another question while he's also not trying to argue or infuriate when the real point is - ]

Because it's not had. It's have.

[ Had Claude not interjected that would have been an excellent opportunity for her to finally tell him how she felt about him. Because while her torrent of words had gone on for longer than she would have liked, they would have eventually led to her admitting that she cared deeply for him and had for a very long time now.

And even though it feels like her unrequited affection and longing for him would always be rooted in the marrow of her bones, she'd reassure him that she didn't plan on getting between him and Sylvain. The hope really was that she'd just wake up one day and they'd be gone like dust motes dancing in the morning sun, a fond treasure and memory she could look back on.

Unfortunately the problem with crafting narratives in her mind is that when they butt up against parts of reality that directly contradicted the things she had convinced herself of. It doesn't happen often - mostly because the combined forces of Hilda's blissful ignorance and charmed life proved a sturdy defence against the forces of reality.

But Claude does break her monologue and both blissful ignorance and luck seem to evaporate into steam. Trying to collect them now would be futile. ]

Have? [ Her voice slides an octave higher. ] But you said "fell". You "fell" for me which is past tense, isn't it?

[ Her stupidity hits her and she knows the answer to the question before he has to answer it. Dumbstruck, her eyes blow wide as her cheeks blaze with warmth. This isn't exactly how most people would react to finding out someone their heart pined for retuned that pining but then again nothing about this is normal. Their relationship had been razed to the ground, leaving them amidst a foundation they had to figure out how to rebuild together.

Hilda had thought she known how right until Claude had flipped the plans around and shown her a different way. Stubbornness and old habits of side stepping persist but both are weak at best. ]

You can't have feelings for me. You have feelings for someone else. And I'm so awful and greedy. I've been so jealous and I could never –

[ A breath is quickly sucked in through her teeth. No. Telling him she cared couldn't come with ugly admissions too. ]

[ As her eyes widen in that silence after speaking, his jaw drops in too honest surprise Claude can't begin to hide. Past tense? Even with everything else? He recovers a second later but not without his expression still wavering somewhere between incredulity, disbelief, and amusement in equal measure without lingering on any one feeling for too long. ]

I said I still wanted you to meet my parents now that you know - [ mostly - ] what that means, but because I said fell that made it all past tense?

[ A confirmation more than a question and one he doesn't really need, not with Hilda's words now making that clear, but with it comes the clarity he'd been seeking to make sense of so many confusing pieces that'd never seemed to create the bigger picture. It's here now: the motivation for everything, the miscommunications known and not, and why what'd felt like such an abrupt fallout to him but have been anything but to Hilda.

Now Claude gives into running a hand down his face with a pause to punch the bridge of his nose while gathering his thoughts. All of them, all the ones formed and still fragmented and what they have yet to say when this is surely only the very start. ]

I think, and hear me out here, both of us should stop trying to tell the other what they should feel or do.

[ It might be a joke save for the minor edge of tension still running through that because it's the truth and because even Claude's not fully ready to make light of this yet. That'll take more time and distance than sitting amidst the wreckage they'd caused as they are now even with some of it slowly put back together. None of it being entirely one of their faults; he'd been responsible for this just as much as Hilda had while they'd both orchestrated it all. He drops his hand away and back into the water when it occurs to him it probably looks like he's frustrated when really, the primary thing he's feeling right now could be be described as shock. ]

How long?

[ Asked quietly, even though it feels pressing that he knows the answer to this even if it won't bring back the time they've lost. Here or in Fodlan, because from what's been said it's clear to Claude that not only did his own feelings come with him - so did hers. ]

You could have been saying that as a friend. Friends meet each other's parents all the time.

[ Her reply comes with the weakest, faintest echo of a laugh - because objectively this entire misunderstanding and miscommunication is funny in some way. It's the sort of thing they would laugh about if it happened to someone else. Not that she can quite appreciate the humor yet but maybe some day. That conversation feels impossibly recent and so long ago now. At the time her heart had immediately tried to take a running leap towards a conclusion that her mind was convinced couldn't be true - and as a result she had clawed her heart back before it could go too far.

This moment feels a lot like that, like her heart is straining to break free, to feel everything that she had been holding back. Simultaneously it feels like Waffle had decided to take a sudden dive that she hadn't been ready for. All that's left to do is try and fall and recover gracefully. Well, as gracefully as someone can after making a total fool of themselves.

The edge to his voice doesn't go unnoticed. A part of her pulls back cautiously like she can't be certain where this conversation is going. But then he asks something that fills her with more fear than she thought a simple question like that ever could or would. He doesn't have to clarify. She knows what he's asking. Drawing her knees into her chest feels like she's protecting herself, like she's still bracing herself for him to decide he doesn't care for her that way now that she had shown a small glimpse of her ugly side of her. Her admission is soft as her eyes drift to the water in front of her. ]

...I don't know.

[ Because she doesn't. Even though she had admitted wordlessly to Wanda that she loved Claude she can't pinpoint an exact moment when the feelings had transformed and culminated into what they are now. It's horribly cheesy. Lame, really. ]

A long time. Before the war started at least. I didn't want to say anything then because you needed to concentrate on the war. And I didn't know what you would say if I did tell you. I guess that fear followed me here too even though I never expected you to return my feelings if I ever did say anything.

[ It's really only the tip of the iceberg of her feelings for him and the things she feared that could come from admitting more. But she feels like she's taken up too much air speaking. And she has her own questions. Her eyes rise towards him. ]

How long?

[ Automatically, he cracks a slight smile at that laugh on instinct more than any humor. There's no point in yanking that statement apart even as he would otherwise if someone else had uttered it - they've covered it even if it's (mostly) been unsaid. The worst part is he can see how it all makes sense. With the missing puzzle piece now in place, how could he not? And how could he fault her for any of it when it seems to so closely mirror what he knows to be true for himself?

Beneath the water, his fingers reflexively curl in towards his palms at first without him noticing it. When it sinks in that Hilda's withdrawing it's then Claude realizes he's done this to keep himself from reaching for her, to stamp out a desire to he would've once not questioned in closing the space between them. But maybe that isn't what she wants or what she needs, and so he sets his hands in his lap again like that'll tamp down the longing as they inch their way through this conversation.

Before the war has him closing his eyes in need of a moment to absorb that. The same goes for what follows, all of it logical in a way which makes him feel vaguely ill because it still comes down to so much lost time. Because he'd thought the same things, had the same fears - both of them holding onto those things separately and which kept them from saying anything in what he now knows could've been years ago for both of them.

Regret doesn't have a place here. The same as always, he has to look forward to the future before the past has a chance to drag him down into it. It's not until she fairly returns his question to him that Claude opens his eyes and looks back at her with a faint smile that's an actual one this time. ]

I couldn't tell you when it changed, but I remember when I realized it. [ His gaze goes unfocused slightly as if he's looking at something else besides just Hilda across from him, but the smile grows a little wider as it curves its way around his mouth. ] It was a ways into the academy year on some afternoon when there wasn't anything happening. I was in my room doing - something, I couldn't tell you what besides maybe looking through some of the books I'd taken from Abyss or writing a letter, but that part doesn't matter - and I hadn't locked the door. You walked in like you belonged there, crawled into bed like you belonged there too, and fell asleep without saying anything.

I couldn't focus on whatever it was after that and a nap did sound like a pretty good idea. After I laid down you moved over to put your head on my shoulder and an arm around me in your sleep like you didn't even have to guess where I was. And then I remember thinking that felt like something else that belonged, too, and I didn't even have to question it. Any of it.

[ One blink and he's back to the present rather than a dorm room in Garreg Mach where it'd felt like the world had narrowed down to nothing but the two of them when she'd settled into that space with a sigh and he'd wished to himself she'd never leave. ]

I'd never thought that about anyone before.

[ As Claude recounts the moment he realized that he'd had feelings for her that went beyond the friendship that they'd had, Hilda can't help but laugh inwardly to herself - of course he remembers the exact moment. And it hadn't been some grand moment either. It had been something small and quiet but no less important. A moment tucked between larger ones, stringing them together like a link on a necklace. Knowing that is enough to make a heart sing. But to feel both awash in affection and mortified that the best she could come up with was, "before the war" has to be a new cocktail of emotions she's never felt before.

The temperature of her cheeks feels hot to the touch, she's positive her ears are turning pink, and her heartbeat races so fast that she swears she could follow it right out the door. The thought is a tempting one. Running away from anything serious has always worked in the past. But this is more than serious. It's important. It's a matter of the heart. Their hearts. Which is honestly more terrifying than any dragon or demonic beast they'll ever face.

Fighting the urge to turn tail and flee, Hilda is quick to bury her hands in her face to save herself from gawking at Claude and to spare him having to see her face contort in strange ways, unable to settle on how exactly to portray the myriad of feelings whirling inside her. That feels like a victory, even if it's a small one. Unfortunately she can't properly pat herself on the back for that. Staying in one place is the easier challenge to tackle. It's convincing herself that this is happening – that's the more difficult task. Believing it follows closely behind that. Or maybe they're one and the same.

The irony of wanting something so badly that she could wish it into existence is that she doesn't have the faintest clue what to do with it now that she's faced with it. For so long she had wondered if Claude would ever return her feelings. Daydreamed about what it would be like for him to look at her the way he looked at Petra. At Sylvain. Convinced herself that some day she'd be ready to tell him true but honeyed words instead of clunky, hollow ones strung up tight with nerves and fear.

The voice of the creature that had crawled its way out of her throat begins singing a different tune, telling her that Claude is better off with someone who could remember something about their story, someone who's kinder, smarter, everything she feels that she lacks. She lets out a soft groan of embarrassment into her hands. ]

Gods, you – if I had known I was supposed to prepare some kind of speech I wish you would have given me more notice. All I could say was a long time and that I didn't know. Now anything after this is going to come across as super insincere.

[ It's more joke than complaint. At least that's what she's trying to default to while she attempts to collect her thoughts and refrain from spilling more unpleasant insecurities. ]

[ There's more he could have added - probably not to Hilda's surprise whatsoever - but it felt like he'd talked for too long as it is. Even if it's an explanation, even if it's important, the longer he'd talked the more Claude had to wonder what the expression on Hilda's face means as it dawns and then blooms into something - else.

Something she thinks she has to hide with her hands pressed to her face to shut it out, and it's that action which makes confusion and a bit of that trepidation return. It was a lot, that much Claude's well aware of considering it felt like a lot to say despite there being so much more ground for either one of them to cover, and now it all hangs in the balance even more than before.

Sitting here he is also feels too much though he wills himself to stay right there. Right up until Hilda finally speaks, because at that point his resolve disintegrates and he pushes off the tub's edge. ]

Hey, wait a minute.

[ That prefaces it though he's careful to make a point of not moving through the water silently to telegraph exactly what it is he's doing. It's not a long distance even despite the oversized tub they're in for that supposed couples' experience but it feels like crossing a canyon as he reaches out to hook fingertips around her hands to gently tug them away from her face to be able to see again. Or in hopes of that, since if she doesn't resist he'll sit with her hands held in his between them in what's not enough touch for what he wants, but that's another line he won't cross without permission first when it's not something he'll take for granted. ]

I wasn't asking for a speech, though if that's you asking for one I can come up with a better one if you give me a minute. [ That's teasing, if only to lighten the mood with something they both know would be a real possibility if she asked for it to be while he searches her face with a tentative smile. ] A long time still more than counts, especially when we said the same thing in different ways. I don't think that's insincere at all.

[ And it is the same thing to him since it still points to the same feeling - and that's something. As much as he wants to let that spark of hope turn into an ember that can become a proper flame, there's something else that has to come before it. ]

What is it that you want, Hilda?

[ From this moment, from all of this - anything and everything in between. His answer to that should she ask it back to him has never once wavered, but that doesn't mean it's the same for Hilda. ]

[ 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.

[ The look on her face causes an ache to flare up in his chest though he reminds himself again of patience, to wait - to not assume what her answer to anything might be. Impossible as it seems to turn off the part of his mind that's forever considering everything at any given time, that's what Claude's willing himself to do.

As the seconds go by, however many of them are before she answers, it feels like an eternity. It aches again that he can't guess what's going through Hilda's mind like he wants to believe he could have just a few months ago, even if the reality is it's far longer than that. The reason for it has been made clear in what's been said and what Claude's still guessing at is trailing behind it for what hasn't yet or whether it ever will be. All he can do is wait and try not to look like this is every bit of feeling like he's balancing on an unsteady precipice where the next step could as easily be the ground crumbling to give way rather than being something solid.

But she answers, and then it's too difficult to not do anything but let hope soar and flood in to fill all the spaces between them as he grips her hands a bit tighter. In the next breath it's tempered by the look on her face because that has to account in this, too; there's been mistakes made in all that miscommunication built up from years and here, and that has to be cleared. ]

I've always wanted you, you know. Always wanted us, even when I spent so long thinking you didn't want me.

[ The urge to reach forward to cradle her face is there but Claude runs his thumbs over the backs of Hilda's hands while still studying her. One step at a time, he reminds himself over and over. Admitting that they both want the same thing - it's something which doesn't feel real despite simultaneously feeling like he's committed those words to memory where they shine as brightly as he'd dreamt they would.

But there's the qualifier with them that was added on right away, and there's what follows it. ]

You're not getting in the way of anything. I- whatever it is I have with Sylvain isn't any kind of replacement or whatever else 'getting in the way' might mean. It's something separate and always has been to me, and it doesn't lessen what I feel about you or change it in any way.

[ Because it's that clear, in his mind, though it's not that he expected Hilda to know this. File it under yet another conversation they should've had with all the other ones wrapped up into this one now, though he stills when something finally clicks into place. ]

That's part of why you've been pulling away, isn't it?

[ 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.

Edited (last edit i swear ) 2023-10-09 03:18 (UTC)

[ The look on her face is what clues Claude into what's coming even before he's fully aware.

The reality of it hits him full force when Hilda tells him another truth there's no denying. Multiple truths at that, and it's not until his lungs start to burn that he realizes he's held his breath throughout everything she's said. Then he has to process that; it'd feel like the world's worst joke if he only believed she was kidding. It isn't difficult to see she means every word in everything etched in her expression even as she tries to smile, tries to say it'll be fine, and he's too numb to let her do anything but pull away at first. ]

Don't think for a second that would make me anywhere close to happy. [ It feels like there's sand in his throat with each of those words scratching their way out. For once, Claude doesn't overthink what to say when it's clear this is the time for them to be said. ] And if you want me to tell you it's fine and it won't break both of our hearts even further than they've already been, I can't do that either.

[ Because that's the part which is making some increasingly desperate feeling rise in his chest and sink its teeth into everything. There's the faintest wish to rewind time again, but - to where? At what point could he even choose to say it's the right place to prevent them from ending up here with years of the past adding up to this? There are too many moving pieces for even him to track as they've whirled around them both to build one upon another into this.

For one terrible second he wonders if she's right and the time has passed before it's immediately replaced by thinking a simple no. Now isn't the time to let her go if it'll be too late to ever talk about this again if he does and he clears his throat. Even if it's only been a little bit of silence but it feels like they've stretched on for even longer but his mind finally registers the slip of her fingers away from his and Claude squeezes her hands again enough to keep them there in hopes she'll stay. ]

You're not awful because you feel something. And more than that, if you think that changes anything about my feelings then you've underestimated what it is I feel about you. I'm not asking you to change anything about who you are and I never would. That's not why I fell - [ a pause, then a wry and briefly humorless smile because that's the very word that helped add to this before - ] I've fallen for you.

[ The threat of words that ask if heartbreak be so awful when there's another to mend and patch it up for him press against her teeth. Someone who isn't arguably better but is better at healing and mending than she'll ever be? Wouldn’t a brilliant, smarter soul be more deserving of a heart that would go to war over everything he believed in? How could a fickle heart hope to compare?

There are some days she could choke on her lovesick jealousy. Ever since she can recall she's left claw marks in everything she's ever wanted and owned. How is that considered love? Because that's what this feeling is, isn't it? It can never have been anything but love when it's come to Claude. And if so, isn't that what all of this fighting and awful self-awareness has culminated into? Finding a softer way to love no matter what the outcome of that looks like?

Her retreat is met with resistance and her eyes dart from him to their still clasped hands below the water. Despite the loud sound of panic that swells in her head, a part of her faintly thinks that it's probably a good thing that he's held on. Not because she wants him to, but because she's ready to run right out of the tub and back to the loft. Maybe there's still a way she can save them from adding one more to their ever growing pile.

But then he doesn't agree with her. Nor does he tell her that she's awful for nurturing all of this jealousy in her heart, letting it feast on her like some parasite before it had crawled out of her throat to lash out at him that night in the Horizon. When she sees his lips twitch, trying and failing to form humour around the semantics of the word she had misinterpreted for weeks, her lips involuntarily twitch equally humourless. ]

Aren’t you supposed to want me to be better?

[ Better, sweeter, more graceful - anything to just accept he and Sylvain without pang, longing or bitterness on her tongue?

This is the part in her romance novels where the person on the receiving end of similar reassurances surrenders themselves to the person they had been pining for all this time. Instead her heart strains against the lead weights that she's anchored them to. It's not that they don't fill her heart with warmth or chip away at the box that she's built around herself. It’s that after years of convincing herself that her box is only meant to be filled with sweet, expensive, soft things that she’s found herself in the middle of a maelstrom of emotions that are none of those things.

The smile falls, dashed by a bite of her bottom lip as her eyes begin to mist. ]

I’m supposed to be happy for you two. I’m supposed to just walk behind you both cheering you on because that’s where I belong — not wish that it were me. [ Her voice wavers under the weight of the expectation of what it would mean to be responsible for his happiness. To be responsible for holding his heart with the care he deserves. ] I want so badly to make you happy but I’m so scared I won’t be able to because all I’ve done lately is hurt you. There’s no amount of jewelry or apologies I can make for putting you through that.

[ The steps she’s been trying to keep up with in this fumbling, awkward dance come to a halt. ]

And even if we know our feelings now — where do we go from here?

You're not the first person who's ever done or said something harsh to me, Hilda. [ A truth though it's said too casually though it's also a reality which factors into everything. Does it mean that all's forgiven and smoothed over? Not that easily, but that in itself - and the things they've both said and done to each other to cause all kinds of damage between them - require other conversations and aren't ones they need to have right now. There's the slight sense that if he does go down that path they may not get back to the one which still requires the most untangling, but that also comes with furrowing his brow at something he can't just breeze past. ] And more importantly, you aren't meant to walk behind anyone no matter who they are or change for someone else.

[ There's nothing about either of those statements he understands, and the frown on his face is genuine as a result. To Claude, it seems in direct opposition to what he'd just said. Both of them could be linked somehow, he supposes, but feel entirely outside of the realm of the love for her as far as he's concerned. Even with all the things he knows about her from all those years of friendship and what'd followed that's known to be not so unrequited as believed for nearly the entirety of the same set of years, even with the months of misunderstanding each other on top of that, if those are real things Hilda believes he'd think about her - there's more that'll have to be explained by how she chooses to answer that.

The mirroring of the forced attempt at any kind of humor doesn't bring him any comfort either, much as he has to guess it didn't for Hilda when he'd tried. At some point, possibly, they might be able to joke about this properly when it feels like an old ache instead of a barely healed wound. It'll take trust being healed between them first on both ends amongst other actions yet to be determined because emotions aren't enough by themselves to make up the difference.

But - it is a start. And that last question, at least, is something Claude does have an answer for. ]

I think we start trying. Actually trying, and at something between the both of us that isn't keeping feelings hidden away. That'd mean not going back to- whatever we could call what things were before. Not because any of it was wrong but because I don't think it's right for us anymore, and I think we start over at the beginning so all the steps we skipped before really do happen this time. Maybe we start with actual dates instead of accidental ones. That's what I want if you do, too.

[ Because that's a qualifier that has to be added - to underscore that he can't ask her to accept something that'd make her unhappy even if (he would hope) that part goes without needing to be said to be true. Now he does let go of one of her hands to lift it out of the water, tentatively telegraphing each move made to give her time to reject him placing it on the side of her face as if to ward away the tears gathering in her eyes. ]

[ The casual truth that carries far too much weight feels like an arrow through her heart. She had never wanted to be counted among that number of people who had wronged him or hurt him. And yet she had left destruction in its wake. Why wouldn't someone want her to change? ]

Aren't I? If I'm not walking behind whoever my future betrothed is at home then I'll be walking behind Holst, cheering him on.

[ There is a third option of course. But that was barred shut behind a door and she had lost the key to it the moment she had witnessed the scalding, gut wrenching disappointment in the wake of the prodigal son's failure.

There's no dramatics, no waterworks or wavering voice. Just a quiet acceptance of predetermined fates for a youngest and only daughter who feared trying. Complacency and fear would never pair well with someone like Claude. A brave Princess of Brigid would. So would a very capable, very kind-hearted heir to Gautier. She's never allowed herself to fathom more of a future with Claude because of lack of seriousness, war, and now her own shortcomings.

It feels like just another reminder that her careless hands are incapable of taking care of his heart. Provides evidence that this wouldn't work. The conclusion is a loud jarring sound that rings out in her head. She barely registers the way he raises his hand to gently cup her face, the reverberations from that awful truth making it suddenly hard to breathe and push tears to the corners of her eyes. It's only belatedly that her brain seems to register what he's saying. Start over from the beginning. Try something new with the hope that it would turn into more. Hope that she had been suffocating for so long that she almost doesn't know how to nurture it again and give it room to grow.

A disbelieving breath meant to be a laugh is pushed from her lungs. ]

You still want to try even though you know I'm jealous of you and Sylvain? And that I might never get over that? [ Old habits die hard and her tone betrays that even she doesn't believe she's capable of that. Her voice breaks and more tears slip. ] And what happens if all our trying doesn't work?

[ The thought of losing someone that had carved his name on her ribcage and held her heart in his hands in any capacity grips her anew. Hilda didn't want to grasp at love turned to dust because of her own doing. She had had her fill of breathing in heartache. This is why she had never tried, never bothered to put much investment in anything more serious than flirting, skin and sheets. ]

Edited 2023-10-15 23:42 (UTC)

[ That's an explanation, probably, but Claude doesn't like it any more than he had hearing it before. He's careful to keep that from showing on his face with the frown moving more into a crease between his brows that could easily be written off as concentration and nothing more. There's no reality to him in which Hilda doesn't belong somewhere far away from anyone's shadow or being relegated to the background like how she's described, but this isn't the time to say no. Something to be left for another time, maybe, or set aside entirely.

Far more important things are here in front of them with how her expression looks like it could still crumble at any moment until those tears gather. It's impossible for them to not pull at his heartstrings as they always do and he concentrates on gently wiping them away while thinking carefully. There's the first thing he wants to say on instinct and then possibly what he should stop to think about saying instead. The initial thought is honesty, potentially more of it than either of them have ever exercised outside of this very conversation where so much of it that's been overdue has come to pass. This won't be the end of it, he's certain, and maybe that's what he needs to keep in mind.

When his answer doesn't seem to change no matter how much he thinks about it, Claude offers her a smile fleetingly tinged with no small amount of sadness. ]

What's the alternative then, that we don't try at all? I think we already know what that looks like, too. [ There's no chiding in that; as far as Claude's concerned it's another fact about everything. About the last few months in particular to which there's certainly no going back to that, and as for what was before it? That doesn't seem to be a solution either when he'd meant it about it not being right. ] But if you decide that's what you want when you're ready to make a decision, we'll figure it out somehow.

[ It's been years, he'd told her once in the last time they'd gone in a larger circle around everything than this. Years he wouldn't trade for anything even if it meant the pain they've faced here at each other's hands and otherwise, and the fear of losing everything else they'd once had is every bit as much on Claude's mind as he squeezes her hand still in his again. ]

And until you do, I'm not ready to give up on this or us. I can't promise you everything will be fine, Hilda. Neither one of us can promise that to each other no matter what it's for, but what we can do is try to get through whatever happens together. That much, at least, will always be the same as it ever has.

[ While she had always been quick to trust, believing in something or someone felt a lot like praying to the Goddess – that, when she did bother to pray, there was never any guarantee of her prayers being answered. She believed in her brother of course, but a familial bond didn't count when she had always admired her brother from the moment she could understand what that meant. And while she had looked up to Byleth, belief in their professor hadn't come until after he had re-emerged from what at the time, had seemed like the dead.

But belief in Claude? That had bloomed long before she had realized it herself much like her feelings for him had come unexpectedly like a rogue gust of playful wind on a summer's day. Perhaps it had started out playfully enough as a way to rile Lorenz, but before long it had grown into something far more genuine. Something that sparked a conviction in her that she had never felt before, one that made her want to help him see his dreams come true. Because if she wasn't destined for anything else, maybe she could help someone who was. Who is.

Did she want her and Claude, something she had yearned and pined over for years? Did she want to support him and Sylvain and gracefully cheer them on without an ounce of jealousy in her heart? Or did she want something else, an elusive third option that remained behind lock and key that she would never admit to wanting for fear of what it could mean? She didn't know what she wanted. She didn't know what came next. But she knew she loved him and knew that she wanted to believe him when they said they would figure this out together.

The soft white noise hum that has become synonymous with accepting that she would always be running to catch up, with watching him turn his back and fly away fades out. Instead he's there, waiting for her, hand outstretched hoping that she'll take it. He's here, wiping away the hot tears spilling down her cheeks faster than he can catch them, squeezing her hand like he's terrified he'll lose her. There's no mask, no facade of him in sight. It's just him holding out his own heart much in the same way she had been holding out hers all this time.

Her response starts slow and small. The weight of his calloused, warm hand against her cheek anchors her. Her hand comes to rest overtop it, tangling their fingers together. Her eyes slide shut as she turns pressing kisses into his palm. It's affection she hasn't dared show him in months, not since that night in a too-small bed in a makeshift hospital in Nocwich. ]

I'm scared. [ The admission is quiet and thick with tears even as she continues to press salty kisses to his palm. ] But I'm not going to run away from this. From us.

[ Tears cling to her lashes as her eyes open. She dares herself to be a little bolder, a little braver, trying to push the fear of rejection from her heart. With deliberation she closes the space between them slowly enough to give him time to stop her. Their knees bump up against one another's like awkward teenagers as she leans forward, lips hovering just above his for a heartbeat, for two, waiting for his quiet permission for them to meet. ]

[ CLOSED ] the dawn is opening

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