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

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[ 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. ]

[ The seconds tick by again like years adding up to a small eternity after the last word leaves his mouth. Is it enough? Is it too little too late? Being able to consider all the possibilities at once has never felt so much like a curse as it does right now when tears continue to slide down her cheeks. Like before, it's a reminder he's placed them there as he dries away the ones he can reach.

What would the Claude of a few months ago from when they'd sat on the shores in Aquila think? What would his self from prior to arriving here think beyond being shocked for so many reasons over what'd come to pass? Would those changes be surprising as they felt now to look back on? Would all of that guardedness had been worth it for what it'd nearly - and still could - cost him, or would he have not so foolishly let something so valuable to him almost slip away? For so long he's lived as if there are no guarantees except the ones he'd leveraged for himself, and for too long this had seemed so certain despite so many unknowns in what they'd kept from each other.

It's brought back into focus now as Hilda says she's scared even while pressing kisses that feel like sparks against his palm with a promise that's more than he could've hoped for. The same can be said for when she moves closer, and it's easy then to let go of her hand. The loss of contact is temporary since he replaces it with placing it along her jaw to cradle it gently. For once the pause isn't to draw things out or to tease as it might have been on other nights, in other times besides this one when this is meant for time to appreciate a person he loves dearly.

There's so much more that he could say. He could tell her that this is all terrifying to him for different or possibly even the same reasons, that there'd been no lie when he'd told her she was the first person he'd ever truly let in. That even if there was still more to go he wants her to know the rest, but that story doesn't stop there when there's more of it to write together. All things which should and will be said, but there's more time to say them. Will be other times to say them and for now, until it's the right moments for each thought in turn, it will be enough to let them speak in another way.

There's no hesitation when Claude leans in to close that small gap left between them to meet her mouth with his for a kiss. Long overdue and yet somehow perfectly timed for everything they've been through, and he wills all those dreams to pass through it while gently deepening the kiss slightly but not further as they open a door to rediscovering each other in what's unsaid. Things that finally aren't unrequited but instead promised with hope behind them because while it feels like home as it always has: this is a chance to build a new one together. ]

[ When she feels his lips on hers, the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding is exhaled in relief. Her body knows these lips, knows the shape of them and the way he tastes. Even if she were to go blind every curve of her soul would know it was him.

The affection that had nestled between her ribs and bloomed into love for him would know. Yes, they stand amidst the rubble battered, bruised, eyes red rimmed from tears shed. But the foundation is still sound. Through everything they’ve experienced that has been constant. They could try and rebuild from here. They would try. And hopefully new flowers would bloom from beneath their feet.

As if the thought calls forth the feeling, something else sprouts in her heart. She worries it between her lips before the taste of it settles on her tongue – this is homecoming.

Her arms loop gently over his shoulders drawing him closer, meeting him in the kiss. After a moment she senses the pause, the clear way that he stops himself from going too far. Fearful doubt attempts to spring up. Is this familiarity she feels simply one sided? Should she not have kissed him? What was once a reaction that might have made sense could be anything now. Before she can backslide further into worry she pulls back, resting her forehead against his as a means of disguising her doubt as a need for a breath.

Fingertips brush against his jaw, his lips in apologetic reverence. The swallow of the lump in her throat isn't just to try to sound audible as she speaks; it's an attempt to dispel the dissenting voices in her head. Tears still cling to her lashes and her voice. ]

I'm sorry for hurting you.

[ There's more that she could say, like some sort of explanation for her behaviour. Shame prevents her from admitting again and again that she's just a jealous, petty creature, afraid of being left behind, of being forgotten and possessive over something she thought was hers being taken away from her. It doesn't matter that Claude had already told her he cared for her, negative traits and all; a lifetime of acting one way so people would find that version of her attractive can't be washed away with just one confession.

One apology doesn't absolve her from her wrongdoings. ]

[ All those things he could say that he wants to put into this make it too easy to let a sigh slip into the kiss as best as it can. Something akin to satisfaction but also far past and far deeper than that, running far more along the lines of contentment to be allowed this much after so long. That she pulls herself closer is enough for his hands to fall from her face to wind his arms around her waist to hold her here to reclaim a place she belongs.

It's for the best Hilda breaks it to end before he loses his resolve to move slowly, not take things too far too quickly within mere minutes of making that promise. That she stays close is enough, Claude tells himself, even as his hands itch to pull her even closer still to make up for months of distance. But now there's time to make up for that, too, which continues to feel like a small revelation each time it crosses his mind and as her fingers trace over him, something he hadn't realized he'd taken for granted until it was no longer there.

Something he nearly means to say in some capacity, but Hilda beats him to speaking. What she says makes his heart twist to the point where he needs a minute to say what he was ready to for some time. There's no reason to overthink it when it's the start of what to offer, a first step to lay the groundwork to more. ]

I'm sorry for hurting you, too. [ Much as he doesn't want to move - even this barely counts as moving - Claude tips his head back enough to be able to kiss her forehead when it's the best outlet he can find without derailing what needs to be said past that and cracks his eyes open afterwards to search her face. ] I thought- I thought I was making the right choice by not telling you so it'd spare you from hurting, but then I caused something even worse. It won't happen again.

[ Another promise, another very important one, and all the better to place one lingering tender kiss to her cheekbone before another below, over salt and all, and continuing on in a slow meander towards her jaw like each is meant to seal it. ]

[ Her eyes remain open for as long as they can to meet his gaze before they inevitably slide closed, memorizing the way that his lips meet her skin like she might never feel them again. Absently she scolds herself; she has to stop thinking so fatally. It's an old relic from the war, one that had been a necessity, a survival mechanism, something to pull out in times of desperation. Something to fight for, something to run towards. How does she undo that way of thinking if she doesn’t start trying now? ]

It better not.

[ Her attempt at levity may or may not land - especially with it being as water logged as it is. Perhaps if this hadn't been near relationship ending she might have put more efforts into the dramatics. But she can't because she silently vows it too: this amount of devastation to one another's hearts wouldn't ever come to pass again.

The absence of his lips on hers (where they belong, where they would always have a home in this timeline and the next) leaves a palpable absence of warmth. But she quietly thinks to herself, she'll accept the forehead kiss and the kisses that follow. The water laps at their skin as she adjusts herself on his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist, dispelling that much more space between them.

His kisses leave her trembling in their wake. Turning her head slightly she presses a tender kiss of her own to his temple, hands carding gently through the hair at the nape of his neck. Regret reaches across her voice. ]

I let my jealousy and doubt get the best of me when I should have listened to you. I should never have doubted you.

[ She pulls away just enough again, pausing his kisses for just a moment to look at him. To look at the face that she adored. That she loved. The words catch in her teeth but the look she gives him runs over with the feeling. Her hand comes to settle over his heart. ]

I know there are so many things I can’t do, [ Not like Sylvain, not even like Claude himself. ] but I’ll do whatever I can do to support you. I’m with you all the way — here or in any timeline.

[ Something that's almost a laugh if there'd been sound behind it gets huffed against her skin, intent as he is on not being distracted though he has no goal or destination in mind. He's missed this, not just trailing kisses across her wherever he can reach at the moment but being close. In so many ways as Hilda pulls herself even closer yet and he reaches her jawline, debating on continuing right down her neck as a quiet but pleased noise escapes him at her hands in his hair. He's tempted to just bury his face in her neck and rest there for as long as he can even as they sit in water probably not meant to be in for quite this amount of time, and even has the contented sigh ready to go for it.

Hilda pulls back before he can so he'll have to save that for later, and in lieu of it studies her back just as much as she's doing to him. Another luxury he's not been allowed and missed, and even if Claude doesn't want to identify the outlines of that feeling etched into her beautiful face when that feels like something he's not allowed quite yet - that doesn't stop the same emotion from echoing back in his own.

So much so that he needs another second to close his eyes before it gets to be too much in only the best way, and upon opening them he lets go of her to cover her hand on his chest with his own while tangling their fingers together. ]

I think I gave you enough reasons to doubt me. [ With a smile with ever so slight sad resignation playing around the edges of it when there's no taking back what'd happened, much as it makes him committed to not repeating it - or dwelling on it. ] I've always believed in you, Hilda. That'll never change in this lifetime or any other one no matter what. Even when you doubt yourself, whether things are difficult or not, and no matter where we are. I meant what I said before, you know. I'll always be here for you.

[ The last several months had bastardized words like that, sucking them dry of any sincerity, any belief that she might have had in him. She had allowed their light and warmth to be devoured by the ugly creature, fattening its belly, giving it strength and power to the point where she had almost forgotten how things like that used to make her feel.

But the grip of Claude's hands over hers loosen the grip that the fear, the jealousy, the doubt all had on her just a little more. It pries the clawed hands covering her eyes just a little further off her face so she could see the cracks of light begin to peak through.

Could he hear the way her heart stuttered in her chest so full of love and ache for him? Or the way her pulse falls so perfectly in time with his? It would be embarassing were it not for the fact that she had missed him so viscerally that her body was already falling into habits her mind had worked so hard to forget. To be adored by him and to adore him in return, to have his belief returned to her, is a honeyed vice she had started a war for even though she had done nothing to deserve it in the first place.

Still, that doesn't stop the weights anchoring her heart from lightening. It doesn't stop her eyes misting at the sincerity of his words, nor does it prevent her heart from swelling. In spite of herself she lets out a spluttering, watery laugh as she presses their foreheads together once more. ]

Stop being so sweet to me or else I'm going to fall for you all over again. And cry. Which is really the more burdensome of the two. The attendants are going to think we fought and then you're going to have to explain that isn't the case.

[ This time when tears gather in her eyes, it doesn't hurt. Not anything beyond the small tug in his chest which always happens when it's another time he recognizes it as being when she's genuinely crying, much as they've talked about being able to spot this in the other before, but even that's a relief: that after all this time, something can slot so neatly back into place without it having to be a guess like all the ones he's been making for months.

It won't fix everything, of course. Everything that's happened can't be undone, but it also doesn't have to be. They'll find a way past it - through it, over it, whichever way doesn't minimize what might finally now be part of their past rather than the nightmare it's been of the present day for so long. It'll be another important part in that story after all.

So is this: the moment where her forehead leans against his with a scolding for making those tears appear in the first place and a quiet laugh finally feels like the right response as he reaches up to brush back a tendril of pink hair back into place. ]

Well, we can't have that. Though if you think about it, would it be fighting or that we'll have to walk out of here explaining that maybe the couples package wasn't the wrong label to use after all?

[ He's teasing and the amount of amusement in his voice will (hopefully) make that apparent given that it's far too early for any such labels to be tossed around, but. The staff really might have some questions after their shocked faces when walking in compared to leaving. ]

[ Even though she can quite plainly tell that he’s joking about labelling themselves as a couple, it doesn’t stop her flustered reaction and causes her heart to skip a beat. It’s a strange reaction, one that she can’t help but feel mildly exasperated towards considering that there’s barely begun to be a them and that there hadn’t really been a them in the romantic sense before this either. Getting worked up over such a small thing, inconsequential thing is hardly her style. So is trying not to let her heart get ahead of itself.

Jumping to conclusions, to labels, to everything they had done before is what they had just agreed not to do. Getting her hopes up about a silly joke, an attempt at levity, will only serve to be counterproductive. She attempts to claw back some of semblance of normal — whatever normal looked like now that is.

…Which apparently looks like a gentle shove that really only amounts to a light pressure against his chest punctuated with a groan. ]

I’m not explaining that to them. Maybe we should just stick to the roommate story.

[ Her scrambled attempt at dissuading the spa attendant hadn’t been forgotten and she hopes that he’ll find it funny. In hindsight it shouldn’t matter what anyone - the spa attendants, others around them - thought they were. There’s comfort in just knowing that she and Claude have come to an understanding. That they’re okay despite whatever may come next. Her gaze rises to his again, her hand never wavering from the place above his heart. ]

I missed you.

[ She missed them - but that feels like it goes without saying. It’s palpable, lingering in the silence that follows, in the way she looks at him. ]

[ The flustered reaction is well worth it. Even as she sputters, even as Claude knows it was a joke just on the side of things neither one of them are addressing just yet, it doesn't stop a wide grin from crossing his face. He's all too pleased, but to say it's just from that reaction alone would be wrong. It's far more than that, an all encompassing sort of delight the last few months made seem like would be an impossibility for it to ever happen again between them.

The small shove gets another chuckle out of him what with it being equally familiar in something else long missed. It's half-hearted at best and not a real protest, but that it wasn't long ago it would've been one is still present in his mind. As is joking about being roommates even if it's technically correct and despite what all they've told each other and what's still yet to come - from what else he knows he has to say, that is - and Claude might've responded to that with yet another quip if it wasn't for what follows.

That admission has his expression softening all over again as he looks up at her where she perches on his lap and studies her face as if to memorize every part of it all over again. As if every time before wasn't enough when it wasn't, and as if gazing upon something treasured no matter how many times before this the same has happened. This is different: the agreement to let down all those walls one by one with trust in each other to do it and to mend it in time. ]

I missed you too, Hilda. So much. [ A statement which only scratches the surface, Claude knows, and an answer in kind to everything beneath the surface of simple words they won't say aloud but the other can hear as clearly as any ringing bell. Rather than elaborate on it, he trails the back of the hand that'd straightened her hair along her jaw, gaze focused momentarily upon her lips before flicking it back up to her eyes. ] Can I kiss you again or is that too far outside of the roommate story?

[ Claude's habit of never saying what he really meant had always bothered her, sometimes more than she'd like to admit. She hated reading between the lines, disliked the way it felt like she constantly needed a cipher to decode everything left unsaid. All of it involved more effort and work than she'd ever put in anyone. But when she did eventually crack the code, when she had finally woken up one day and realized what he was saying - nothing had ever tasted so sweet.

This is one of those moments. One where she thinks she could sit there and try to untangle the things left unsaid. Goddess knows there's a myriad of them hanging in the air between them - but all she can feel is the weight and the warmth of them draping over them like a blanket. It's the same feeling from before, she thinks. It's the feeling of homecoming swelling in her chest, making her breath catch in her throat.

I'm sorry. I missed you. I love you.

Maybe she's reading too much into it. Maybe she's projecting - especially that last one. But now isn't the time to dwell and sift through the tangled thoughts. A pleased smile hides in the corner of her mouth as she attempts to appear like she's in deep thought. The mirth and adoration in her eyes betrays her. ]

Well they're not here right now, right? [ The smile creeps, spreading wider, growing brighter as she inches closer until they're a hair's breadth apart. ] We can figure out what we'll tell them later. We have time.

[ And when their lips meet, as she breathes him in, as the sweetness settles on her tongue, all she can think is this: he tastes like home. She's home. They're home. ]

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[ CLOSED ] the dawn is opening

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