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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[ Neither the grass suddenly flying nor the outburst following it he senses before it happens are enough to make him flinch or avert his gaze from where it rests on Sylvain. There's the sense of familiarity in this, though, and it only takes a second of searching his memories: back to a time where aggravation led him to push too far and Sylvain had lashed out then, too. Same application, same results - but not the same reasons.

It does bring something else into focus within abrupt clarity as he thinks back on that time. Then it'd been brought about by something he hadn't learned until later, that fear of Sylvain's of being somewhere enclosed and damp and one that'd been surrendered with reluctance. If Claude connects that dot to this one, he's fairly certain it's not his own brand of logic making it clear there's something else beneath the temper now when it goes against all that easygoingness the other so often wears.

And if that's the case, even if he's telling himself resolutely to not attach any hopes to the possibility they're concealing the same things, then it's time to put his own fears aside for a minute, take a deep breath, and try again with the trust that if he does: it'll mean something. ]

I don't want anything from you but you, Sylvain. Maybe you aren't the only one who doesn't know how to do better without knowing where something is going first. [ That particular admission is enough to get him to reach for the grass tossed his way to give himself something to do, even though this blade of grass hardly is one after going through Sylvain's fingers first. ] Or what that looks like here either without knowing if that's what you also want, or if you're trying to say none of it meant anything.

[ Though there's some attempt to sound as nonchalant as ever - it's not a very good or believable one as he keeps his eyes now on the grass. If Sylvain's impulse from before is to show an insecurity externally, Claude's is to turn it inward where most might not notice it. Even if Sylvain's more observant than he pretends to be, and even if his hopes on that succeeding are low. ]

[ It’s enough to deflate that brief spark of temper entirely as Sylvain blinks at him a moment. Whether he sees what Claude’s trying hide or not, he’s not even sure, because Claude’s always been way too good at masking three things behind something else and even he’s not sure which one he’s looking at.

And his words are reassuring in one way. Terrifying, in another. He swallows thickly, looking away, gaze fixed on some innocuous point on the blanket they’re still sharing. ]

It meant - means - something. A lot of things. [ Everything, actually.

As far as confessions go, it’s quiet and a little hesitant. It feels a lot like walking along a ledge blindfolded and his stomach twists uncomfortably. ]

I know where this usually goes, Claude. At least where I’m involved. Except we already went there and that’s where it stops. Always. [ Usually also because of him, one way or another. ] I’ve never wanted it to go anywhere else before. Especially farther. Because I could always see their angle. What they were after. And it was never the same thing as me. It rarely had anything to do with me in the first place.

[ He hated that he could read people so well, sometimes. That it had always been so easy to see their ambitions. Their shallow dreams or goals they chased after with hearts in their eyes. They might aim those at him, but it wasn’t him they were seeing, really. He could have been anyone. He was anyone, and no one. A means to an end.

Claude… Claude was never easy to read and Sylvain still had no idea what his angle was here. Because he couldn’t imagine Claude not having one. Or twelve, more likely.

Which is why he manages a small laugh, even though it’s tinged with something a little too resigned to be real humor. He spreads his hands to the side in a helpless sort of shrug. ]

So I’m still here. And I’ll probably still be here whether that’s the smart thing or not. It’s probably not - this is me we’re talking about here. But at the same time, I know how much it gutted you when you and Hilda were fighting. With all the misunderstandings between you. I know how important she is to you, and you to her. I want to see you both happy with that.

I just wanted to know if that meant I needed to make myself scarce for a while, or at least… step back to give her space. I’m not saying I want this… us… to stop, because I don’t. But I get it if your focus needs to change. I know she’s been struggling even before you two fought, trying to figure out where she fits. I don’t want to make that worse by inadvertently taking up space that’s meant for her to fill.

[ That… was potentially more than he really wanted to reveal about where he saw his place in all of this, he realizes too late, the words slipping out before he realizes that aspect of them. ]

[ Meant is enough to make something in his chest ache even if it's corrected not all of a split second later, and Claude keeps his eyes where they are to keep all those hopes tempered even as Sylvain keeps speaking.

Except what he hears isn't what he expected which was some possibly graceful exit where he'd have to figure out where things would go from there; instead it takes a different path. His gaze goes unfocused for a minute as he listens before he raises it without lifting his head to watch Sylvain as he talks.

Within that: there's a lot of information. It's not lost on Claude that some of it seems to overlap with what Hilda's told him and to a lesser extent what she hasn't and he'd put together to guess at what was behind it. He gets the sense he might have to do the same with Sylvain, too, but that'll take more time and consideration than this moment allows.

What he should be doing is listening above anything else. It does pull different jumbles of thoughts Claude's had in passing before into focus to shape them into one more coherent than those glimpses provided. What was said minutes before begins to make more sense now with (some of) the context behind it, and it isn't what matched his assumptions. Don't repeat your mistakes, Claude reminds himself, then reminds himself again because it bears repeating. ]

And what if there's space for both of you? [ Now he does lift his head to look at Sylvain properly and evenly. This feels like the best starting point before that gets wound up into a dismissal it's now clear neither of them want. ] And that you wouldn't be taking up each other's, to be clear. That's not how this has worked to me this whole time. I was never looking to replace one of you with the other or anywhere close to that, and I'm still not.

[ A pause to drag a hand through his hair, half in thinking and half to avoid the impulse to do something else - like reach out to Sylvain just yet when some uncertainty still lingers as he sighs slightly. ]

There's a lot of things I have to make up for, I think, and this might be another one of them. To be clearer, I'm not asking you to step back or away from anything because that's not what I want unless that's what you want. I told Hilda the same thing, and I meant it then and again now.

[ But as for what comes next - much as he'd told Hilda also, that part he doesn't necessarily get to decide. ]

And what if that’s what Hilda wants?

[ It’s asked softly, but he manages a faint, crooked smile, even if there’s a hint of subdued sadness there. That inevitable resignation still lingering.

He’s pretty sure Hilda would never voice that. She’d never want to put that choice on them, even if watching them kept bleeding her out slowly. He doesn’t want to put that choice on any of them either. But he wants to watch Hilda’s heart breaking even less than that.

Claude’s gaze is fixed on his face again and its far too intense that he slumps a little, gaze dropping to his lap once more. ]

If there’s still space for me, then I’m happy with that. I don’t need a lot. But not if it means I’d just keep hurting her in the process. I haven’t moved away, Claude. I didn’t really plan to unless I needed to. I guess… I guess I just need you two to figure out how and where you two are standing now.

[ So he can orient himself accordingly, to do the least amount of damage. ]

I don't have an answer for that.

[ And Claude's answer of that doesn't take but more than a second to come; it's genuine even as all Sylvain says presses upon fears he won't voice. Ones he also has because he's not willing to hurt Hilda either - or rather, to hurt her even more than he already has in ways which spiraled so quickly and entrenched themselves into everything when there was no way they couldn't.

It's what has Claude falling silent after but nothing comes to mind to offer when he can't promise something that someone else needs to do for themselves. The same, he thinks with an unsettling twisting in his stomach, that Sylvain himself is saying here and now.

And that feels a lot like being left in the same uncertainty with which this conversation dropped into not long after starting as though they've looped right back into it again. ]

I want Hilda and I want you, but I can't decide that being what you want for either one of you if it even ends up being what you want at all. And I shouldn't try to decide it because that's unfair in a lot of ways, not the least of all not accounting for either of your own feelings on it, so if you need time to think then I understand. It's the same as what I'd told Hilda to do because I... I want her to be sure.

[ The thought stumbles out incomplete, a frisson of the fear of rejection from one or both of them winding through the words. And it says as it is when Claude goes quiet without offering more to cover it up or obscure it, and instead he shifts his gaze to the willow tree's branches above. ]

I don't need time to think.

[ That, at least, is something said with absolute certainty as he finally makes his gaze lift back up to lock with Claude's again. While there's still shadows darkening his gaze, it's still steady and even. This is something he knows. His part. What he might want, if he had a choice in things. He's just pretty sure he doesn't. What he wants so rarely holds any weight in the reality of things. Which was why he'd brought this up in the first place. ]

I know what I want. I just don't know if it's possible. And it's not really my decision to make in the first place. [ He knows where he ranks here. Especially now that there's two people's feelings involved, weighing the scale opposite of him. ]

Like I said, this hasn't really changed things for me, not on my end anyway. I'm still right where I was before we had this conversation. What I want hasn't changed. But if it has to... [ He pauses, trailing off, because it just feels like that's borrowing trouble before he needs to. Which, unfortunately, he happens to be great at. ]

I guess it comes down to what Hilda wants then, huh? What she can be comfortable with.

[ It takes another few moments before Claude's willing to pry his gaze away from the willow tree despite being aware of Sylvain's resting on him to go with what's said. When he does, he doesn't look away again but remains quiet, intent on listening. What's said doesn't particularly decrease his general unease when it's somewhat as circular as his own even if it's completely fair, and he draws his knees up partway to cross his arms loosely over top of them. ]

Maybe.

[ Something else he feels like he can't - and shouldn't - answer when it comes to what Hilda wants. There's too many variables, and with that means too many possibilities when it comes to peering ahead at what the future could bring. Even if he's still firmly got his gaze on something brighter for all of them, there's no choosing it if that's not what they each want.

Which leaves one other important question to be asked. ]

So then where do you and I go from here?

[ It's intentionally left open-ended, far more so than most things he asks or ever asked Sylvain in particular, and Claude doesn't bother to add more when it still feels like they've danced around what Sylvain wants out of this in not so many words - beyond those where it sounded like the other man was talking himself out of it already. ]

[ He blinks, caught off guard slightly by what feels like - to him - an unnecessary question. Or maybe he just isn’t sure where Claude is trying to lead him now. ]

I don’t know? The same place we’ve always been going?

[ …Unless he really did want something different now, but he hasn’t voiced that, or even really hinted at it before just now so Sylvain’s not sure he can even guess which way that question is pointed. ]

Which is what, to you, exactly?

[ No pauses happen this time between that question and this next one because - that Sylvain's response is this makes no sense. Not even in the context of all the confusing loops they've drawn over and around each other in the past few months, in all those ones Claude's come to recognize, and not with glimpses he's caught in past conversations whether the other man meant to let them slip out or not.

Not even in this conversation with that earlier explanation of things going no further, ever, or how it'd felt like that was setting up something else even if he can't tell if 'the same place' means they have the same thing in mind. Maybe that's what he'll get here by asking, this time more specifically. Hopefully. ]

[ He shifts uncomfortably on the spot, Claude's gaze fixed on him with enough intensity to make him reconsider that escape plan. Why do those words sound so much like the traps he'd once been so good at evading before walking face-first into one?

Maybe he just hadn't expected it from Claude. This is what he gets for letting his guard down.

But now he is put on the spot and there's the briefest jolt of panic, because this is it, this is the part he fucks it all up, he can feel it looming and he hasn't even opened his mouth yet. ]

I...

[ Great Goddess, help him out here.

...

Nope. He's got nothing. ]

I don't know. Honestly? I was sorta following your lead here.

[ That little bit of restlessness from Sylvain tells him plenty in the silence. Even if it's something Claude could have predicted, could've seen coming if he'd taken more time to think about it beyond attempting to not leap too far ahead from one second to the next. It readies him, if nothing else, for the lack of answer he receives in return.

But that doesn't make it less exasperating; there's the instinct to clench his jaw which is much harder to suppress than most reactions Claude keeps tucked away. Somewhere in there there's some irony that Sylvain's either evading answering or outright refusing to in his own way when this is something so familiar to what he does himself. Or, he realizes abruptly, what he does when he thinks a question asked hasn't been answered and he's looking to find it first before giving his own. That switches irritation to confusion or more like blends them together - hadn't he been clear?

What's missing when it feels like it's all here but hearing whether they want the same thing?

A second goes by where he continues to just look at Sylvain, then takes a deep breath to compress any feelings into something smaller, and tries again. ]

You said before what you want hasn't changed which means you have to have some idea, Sylvain. Saying you don't know now doesn't really work.

[ Why does it still feel like they're talking about completely different things here? Except he's still not entirely sure what answer Claude is looking for. So he just huffs out a breath and spreads his hands in a helpless shrug. ]

I don't know what answer you're looking for here, Claude. Yes, I know what I want. I want you. I want us. What we've been doing. What we'll continue doing - I hope. At least as long as you're interested in putting up with me, anyway.

[ He bites the inside of his cheek the moment those words slip out. Shit. Too much. Way too much. Should have aborted earlier. ]

Beyond that... I've no fucking clue where it's supposed to go from there, Claude. You've officially reached the end of my experience, and outlasted all your predecessors by about a hundred times over, to boot. I'm officially forging ahead blind here. Basically, my plan was to enjoy this for as long as it lasted. Should that not be my plan here?

[ It had seemed like a pretty smart plan, at the time. At least until he realized what a disaster it was gonna be when all this exploded in his face.

Which was looming alarmingly closer every time he opened his mouth, he feared. ]

[ If he'd been searching for the right loose thread to pull on to unravel something, it seems he's found it.

Claude wills himself to hear in there what he wants to, what he needs it to be, even if there's still questions he wants to ask. But - that's not uncommon for what it is in what he's found when it comes to Sylvain being willing to tell him things without prying first, without running his hands over well-built armor to inspect for somewhere to wedge his grasp into. And more often than not, he's found, he's met with an easy smile as if to suggest there's nothing else hidden beneath.

For now, in this moment, he tells himself this answer is enough. Because it is: as much as it can be, maybe this is what they have to offer each other. What we've been doing. What we'll continue doing. It's not the first time he's taken feelings and sank them beneath everything else in the same way as those smiles work - nor is this the first time Claude's contemplated how he's managed to repeat this. If Sylvain's trusted him enough to extend this much, he can do the same. The rest can wait. ]

Alright. [ It's a decidedly underwhelming response to what was said, he knows, but it's only the start. Unwinding himself a bit from the slightly withdrawn position he'd taken, Claude extends a hand out to Sylvain to hold it palm up for him to take with a tentative smile. ] If that's the plan, what do you say we figure it out together?

[ Underwhelming is probably right, but Sylvain's just relieved he hadn't irrevocably fucked this up.

So he eyes that outstretched hand a moment before huffing out a soft, relieved laugh as he reaches out to clasp it with his own. His grip is warm as he gives Claude's hand a squeeze, then tugs him closer, because all of the tense distance is getting to him and that was the last thing he wanted to remain between them.

He doesn't point out that he thought that's what they were already doing, because he figures he's shoved his foot in his mouth enough for one day. Instead, he lets his tone turn light as he counters with a teasing poke back at a different conversation they'd had recently. ]

Fine. But you better not be expecting me to do all the work again.

[ In the pause before Sylvain moves, slight as it is, Claude finds himself wondering if the gesture was an error, if he'd calculated something incorrectly behind it. But then a hand he's come to know well with all its calluses and scars slips into his to pull him closer, and not a second later he finds himself soundlessly exhaling a breath he hadn't even noticed he'd been holding. In dread, anticipation, hope - anything in between which runs on the spectrums of all of them that are set back to neutral with that squeeze.

The conversation still doesn't feel complete, but he recognizes enough that when Sylvain switches to teasing, lighthearted words that the door he'd started to nudge shut is now fully closed. He could kick it right back open if he wanted to, Claude knows, from all those years of prying to learn whatever it was he'd sought out.

Maybe it's still worry over what he'd find, a confirmation of how much things are reciprocated and where they end if it's a mismatch, which has him putting on a better smile to meet what's called for rather than what's lurking around his mind. ]

No? Well, if you're saying you finally, finally surrender to my brand of organization instead, I can work with that.

Edited 2023-12-06 00:11 (UTC)

That would require you actually having a discernible brand of organization first. Which no, you do not. Adding more piles doesn't make anything more organized, you realize.

[ It still feels unfinished, this matter between them. But Sylvain doesn't have any answers. Doesn't know if either of them have them. Won't have them, until Hilda comes to some of her own.

It leaves them both in limbo, of sorts, but he supposes even that is better than nothing at all.

He really is truly fucked.

He gives Claude's hand a tug, however, pushing up onto his knees now. ]

Should we gather this up and start heading back?

[ Sylvain's hand in his helps. It's an easy enough gesture to maintain as Claude wants to pretend the contact doesn't mean as much as it does. There's a limited number of things he can lie to himself about, and this is long past one of them.

He has no answers. It's an uncertainty he's learned to deal with in the same state of suspension he's been in with Hilda with the intent of waiting for her answer no matter how long it takes. That much he owes her, he feels, and to keep anything of what he wants out of it when it might be an unfair influence. It's logic Claude now expands to Sylvain, too. And to all three of them, really, in what he can admit he wants beyond just one on one relationships with them.

The tug on his hand pulls him away from considering it too much and instead right into offering a scoff as he gets up himself. ]

Just because you don't know where my things are doesn't mean that I don't. I'll have you know that all of those piles are critical! I could tell you where everything is at any time. Just try me.

[ He'll carry on that defense of his absolutely organized chaos as they pack up, head back to the portal, and then make it back to Cadens.

But once they make it to the loft? His things will be deposited in his room, still somewhere in with that sort of maintained order, but: Claude also invents a reason to head back out into the city not long after. Just to wander, just for a bit of solitude as he doesn't head to his made up destination - just to give himself some time to think. ]

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[ CLOSED ] the dawn is opening

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