claude von riegan. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
godshattering) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
abraxaslogs2023-09-10 12:52 pm
godshattering) wrote in abraxaslogs2023-09-10 12:52 pm
[ 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 ![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
indech, on Discord, or by PM at any time to plot something! )
When: September, October, November
Where: Cadens, Libertas, the Horizon
What: Catch all
Warnings: None currently, will add/mark as needed
no subject
He listens, certainly, but it immediately chafes and especially so the assumptions being made when he felt he'd been rather clear about the why involved. Giving Hilda space to decide what she wants was - is still the right move in his mind, and Claude can't help but feel this is taking that away, just a bit. The smile on his face doesn't physically shift, but whatever humor was in it certainly fades away until it's only the expression left. ]
That's an interesting assumption especially when, if I'm recalling this correctly, you're well aware of why that is. But if we're being honest here, then let me add this: both of you can stop offering me outs I don't want.
[ Now he pauses to take a sip of wine before setting it down on the table nearby in order to lean forward in his seat. If Sylvain wants to call them both out, then the reverse is only fair. Or something like that, though Claude's careful to keep anything out of his voice so it remains even as ever; if the spirit of this is to pull things together, that's more important than whatever else he's feeling. ]
If I didn't want this - whatever we're about to define 'this' as - then I'd say so and I mean that. Look, I understand that... there's a lot I didn't do in going about this in ways that would've been better. But I'm not telling either of you anything different, and as long as this, all of us, is something you both want then it's what I want, too.
no subject
Why is that bullshit?
[ Hilda's posture stiffens in his lap, pulling back as her eyes sharpen, steeling her nerves behind mild indignation. It doesn't matter that they're getting a taste of their own medicine, that Sylvain's gaze softens in a way that usually makes her want to melt in turn, or that his intentions are well and good when he answers her question. Her hackles are already raised. So much so that she nearly misses Claude's defence of her request for time to think.
Her eyes dart towards him trying to piece together the reason he could have given Sylvain as to why they had continued to be "stupid" around another (because if there was anyone being stupid it was them, not her). Is this what she gets for trying to be respectful? For trying not to be nosey? Once again her willful ignorance tricked her into believing she could keep avoiding it but reality often had a hard time fighting against a potent mixture of cowardice and stubbornness. Feeling trapped in a corner does nothing to stave off that desire to turn tail and run either, irritation sparking in her voice in an attempt to mask her rising panic. ]
Great well if that just leaves me I'll say what I said to the both of you before: I don't know what I want, I still don't know what I want and I told you both why. So you and telling me that that's "bullshit" really ticks me off. [ Her chest feels tight. The faint buzzing at the base of her skull grows louder. She attempts to shove Sylvain's hands off of her with more strength than she'd normally use to struggle against his hold. ] It must be nice being okay with having feelings for multiple people at once and not being jealous or petty about it. Then again you've both had way more practice than I have.
[ And more time here together, a sickly jealous voice whispers. More time to bond, more time to do sweet happy things together while she went off and sulked. This is all a kindness. A means of consoling until they realized what they really wanted. Her stomach churns. Her cheeks burn. ]
If you're just waiting for me, don't. I already told you I don't want to stand in the way of you two being together when you both want to be. I don't see why I have to be part of that equation. [ She spits the next sentence out with more venom than she intends. ] You don't have to be nice for my sake.
no subject
I wasn't calling your need for time to figure things out bullshit - I get that, probably better than you know, but it's been a month since we last talked about this. And I don't know if it's different for you, but I don't feel like I did enough to convince you in that time. That this could work. That I want this to work.
[ Granted, this past month had been... complicated. And busy. And did he mention Complicated?
He does reach out to catch her chin to try and turn her face back to him as he flicks a glance at Claude before looking back to her. He'd been thinking about how this conversation could go a lot over the past couple of weeks. Especially since his conversation with Claude in the park. It had been a night in with Jesper that had given him something else to think about, that maybe he was doing this all wrong, too. The methods he'd always used back home don't apply here, not with them. Mostly because back then, he hadn't cared if his plans had fallen through or failed.
Here? That is absolutely not the case anymore. There was too much to lose if he didn't start taking more risks here. ]
You're not standing in anyone's way, Hilda. Except maybe your own. I'm not going to say there's times I'm not jealous, because that's a lie. I do. I probably get jealous just as much as you do. You and Claude have a deep relationship that has years of loyalty and close friendship to build off. You two are open with each other in a way you aren't with anyone else. You know things about Claude that I can't even begin to guess at, I'm sure, and I'm pretty sure he knows the same about you. How could I not be jealous of that?
[ Especially because he's pretty certain that there's no one, in this world or their previous one, who he could say that about in his own case. Not even Felix, although he probably comes closer than anyone else could.
He lets his gaze drift away from her to lock gazes with Claude again and offers the other man a halfhearted, crooked smile that holds more than a hint of vulnerability in it. Because it costs him to be so bluntly honest about those, to ignore the fear and expectation that his vulnerabilities will be immediately wielded against him. But he needs to try, or this is all going to go tits up before they even get it started. ]
I can't even lie and say that I'm not constantly standing here watching you two get closer again and wondering if that's it for me. If this will be the day you both figure out it's each other you want, have always wanted, and I'll have to figure out how to cope with that. [ Another blunt confession, maybe more detailed than what he'd said to Claude before, or just a different angle of it. But he does tear his gaze away then, because he doesn't want Claude to see too deeply beneath the surface of that fear just now, and looks back to Hilda. Because she's easier to focus on right now, rather than the lover he knows can always see far more deeply than he's sometimes comfortable with. ]
And I don't have more practice at having feelings for more than one person. I don't even have a lot of practice at having feelings for one person, because it's never happened before. They never mattered enough to warrant that much thought. But you matter. Both of you. A scary amount, if I'm honest. And I don't know what to do with that either.
And if you need me to leave you alone to think, then fine, that's what I'll do. But I'm gonna be honest and say I'm not sure that has us getting to where any of us want 'us' to be.
So I want to propose something different. I want us to take a month or two and try this. All in, all three of us. Let's see where it goes, if it can go. We could sit in our own corners and think about it for a whole 'nother year and get absolutely nowhere. Or we could take that big scary first step towards each other and see where that takes us. Not separately, because I think that's where our jealousy and insecurities get the better of us. But together, where no one's left out or standing in someone else's way. That's what I wanted to talk to you both about. Can we do that? Even if it's just to try?
no subject
Being told this is something meant to just be nice - a word he's come to detest in this application - trips a switch inside him somewhere so quickly Claude hardly has time to process it happening before the realization this is coming up again hits followed by a flood of frustration. If giving Hilda time to let her think had only convinced her further of what she'd spent telling herself for months on end: it was the wrong choice to make. It's a good thing Sylvain beats him to speaking because it forces him to keep his mouth shut. Intentionally so given that Claude sits with his jaw clenched to will himself to keep the words crowding his mouth in where they belong and more importantly: to listen as his gaze doesn't waver away once from either one of them.
As the other man talks, some blanks begin to fill in - those blanks are both in what Hilda's saying without saying it outright, and in that conversation he'd had with Sylvain where it'd felt like the answers he'd wanted never surfaced. A better outline of everything starts to take shape in his mind, and some of that exasperation slips away little by little. After all, if he's going to be irritated over this then there's still a point where it comes back around to point at himself for having some of the same fears.
By the end of it, he doesn't make a move to say anything immediately. The pause lasts - on his side, anyway - long enough to give Sylvain's words to breathe and sink in with the seriousness they deserve. The wine's abandoned for good as he sets his glass elsewhere. Claude means to drag his hands down his face but instead spends a second (or three) with his face covered to get himself back in order before dropping them back down his lap to look up again. ]
If anyone keeps telling themselves this is all just because someone's being nice, or waiting for the chance to leave someone out, or that someone here doesn't matter when that isn't what's being said or what has been said - this isn't going to work, so that part has to stop. That goes for any of us, because you're both saying the same thing in different ways and you're saying it like it's a truth. And I'm not excluding myself here from that or from being partly responsible for not doing a better job of showing anything otherwise, because - [ with a laugh that's more bitter than he means to let slip out - ] it's not like I have any experience with this either.
That doesn't mean I don't think we should try. An honest try where none of us, myself included, are sitting around waiting for an end which may not even happen. Because what if it doesn't end after that month? I don't want it to. I said this to Hilda and I meant it then as much as I do now: we've already seen what the worst case scenario in this looks like and it's all of us being completely miserable. That's not a good enough reason to not move forward - together, all three of us.
[ But. They've both admitted to more than he has in this, separately and now together, and Claude knows he can't very well ask them to do something he's not willing to do himself. It's a good thing that while speaking he was also grappling with letting down another wall so that at least they don't have to wait again. ]
You aren't the only ones with fears. Everything you've both said... the phrasings might've changed a bit, but I could have said them myself.
no subject
Neither of their actions were the result of their collective misery. Her inability to keep her mouth shut and remain pleasant, not being able to suffocate the awful jealous creature inside of her that might only continue to grow and consume - those had been the reasons and she didn't understand why they couldn't see that. Thankfully none of those things make it past her lips, because of a mixture of fury zipping her lips shut and the care she has for them that tells her she has to hear them out. Thank Goddess she does.
Deep down she knows she's scared. Terrified of what will happen to her resolve if she looks at either of them while they say things that slowly chip away at that furious resolve of hers. She can't deny that she had told Claude she'd try. She'd also told Sylvain that she needed time to think about her response to him. But she hadn't told either of them the full extent of how she felt, or the other part of her so-called grand plan: that they'd eventually see that they'd be more than enough for one another with or without her there. And if Petra came back? Or someone else became an irreplaceable, precious person in their lives? Hopefully by then she'll be gracious enough not to feel any bitterness about her decision to.
By the time they're done speaking her anger begins to ebb, giving way to the panic that had given rise to it in the first place. It pounds in her ears and the familiar feeling of tears prick at the corner of her eyes. There was all this talk of trying but Hilda didn't try. She quit before she ever began. Lack of inaction had served her well and it would continue to serve her whether she remained here or returned to Fodlan. It didn't matter that they were supposed to do this together or that she always found comfort in numbers. Trying opened her up to a world of failure and disappointment she couldn't afford with them. This isn't some group assignment given to them by Byleth, nor is it some bridge she's been asked to defend. Somehow death is less terrifying than this.
As she chews on that in the silence that follows Claude, the fight in her seems to slowly evaporate out of her body, arms crossing over her chest like a shield. They were asking her to do the impossible. Familiar anxiousness squeezes her heart tight, every cell in her body telling her to run even if it means clawing at the door but there's no where to run. She has to face this somehow. She has to be brave. Somehow. Eventually she swallows, voice sounding distant as if she can no longer decide how she should emote. ]
I've felt like I've been on the outside looking in this entire time. Feeling like that just doesn't go away. What if that keeps happening after a month? Or two? Or three? What if you both decide that you don't want me to be a part of this anymore - and don't say that that won't happen because feelings grow and fade all the time.
And what if either of you develop feelings for someone else or want someone else, or whatever it is we're calling it? I already feel jealous and awful about Sylvain and Jesper and you two together. I don't want to stand in either of your ways if that does happen but I -
[ Her voice breaks for a moment, cheeks flaring with shame. Admitting she's been awful, petty, jealous and lonely by extension isn't news to them (and distantly, horrifyingly, she wonders if that's why she hadn't had a problem chastely kissing Alucard). They don't need her to say it again to understand that's what she can't say aloud. Drawing a breath she curls her hands into tight fists, cutting crescent moons into her palms. ]
I don't think I could stay if that does. You both mean too much to me for me to be gracious and kind and soft about it. I can't go through that again. [ She winces, hearing how selfish that sounds before amending it to what she really means to say. ] I can't put either of you through that again.
no subject
And if that isn't a bit of irony in this situation...
But he watches as she hunches in on herself, arms crossed defensively over her chest and he casts a worried gaze in Claude's direction. Takes in the clenched jaw and the way he buries his head in his hands and for a moment, Sylvain feels his heart sink deeper. Maybe they can't do this. Maybe they've already lost this fight and none of them is willing to raise the white flag and admit defeat. Because of the consequences that will have on all of them.
If he were a better person, a nobler one, he would have taken himself out of this equation already. Because causing Hilda to feel jealous and on the outside isn't what he'd intended, but he's doing it anyway. Even if the thought of distancing himself from either of them makes his heart clench and his chest feel like it's squeezed too tight to breathe. But it would be better for both of them in the long run, wouldn't it?
He doesn't know if it's fortunate or unfortunate, but he's always been terrible at being the better person. He's not. He's not even a good person. The long line of broken hearts and ruined ambitions he'd left behind him in his wake should be proof enough. Even if he'd do anything not to add these two names to the list.
The silence that falls between all of them is heavy and uncomfortable. Claude's words resonating deeply with him, because they're what he wants so badly he can almost taste it, but Hilda...
Either she can't see the same thing, or she won't. Which means this argument is just going to keep going in circles, because she's too deeply tangled in 'what ifs'. He hates those. You never get any good answers by being stuck in perpetual 'what ifs'. If you step onto a battlefield too distracted by all the ways you could potentially die... well, that's just a sure way to see it happen.
So he pushes to his feet, coming to stand in front of her again and reaching out to gently chafe his hands along her arms as he gazes down at her. He's not trying to loom, because that's not the impression he wants to give, but it's a little hard not to when she's so tiny in front of him. But she'd insisted on standing, so here they were. ]
None of us can predict what our feelings will and won't do. None of us have been able to do that this entire time. We can only go with what we know. What we want. And see where that takes us. What I do know? I've wanted you for a long time, Hilda. I thought about it, a time or two, back in Fodlan, but you deserved better than me, back there. You still do, technically, but that doesn't mean I don't want you anyway. In the time we've been here together, those feelings haven't waned or faded at all. I still want you. More even, because I've gotten to know more of the real you.
And I don't want you to pretend to be gracious and kind and soft. That's not the real you, not at your core. Not that you can't be those things, but don't try to squeeze yourself down to fit into only that one box for anyone's sake, least of all ours. I want to see you fiery and stubborn and witty. I want to be the one to hug you when you're sad or crying and need a shoulder to lean on. Or hide against. Or another shirt to ruin. I want to laugh with you and take you out dancing, or maybe lay all night under the stars again just to talk about everything and anything.
But more than that? [ And he takes a step forward, carefully herding her back a step. And then another. His movements a slow, determined prowl, not quite predatory, but there is definitely something confident and sensual in them as he moves her to where he wants her. Back towards where Claude still sits watching them and Sylvain doesn't stop his maneuvering until she either sits or gets toppled back into the other man's lap, where Sylvain can lean over them both, hands braced on the arms of the chair to either side of them. Caging Hilda in between them now.
His voice is low and deep, husky with his seriousness. Hushed now as he leans in close, pressing her back against Claude as he invades her personal space. This is a gamble, but he doesn't know what else to try. He just has to hope Claude will play along. And forgive him if this backfires horribly and blows up in their faces. ]
Even more than that, I want for us to do all that together. I don't want you on the outside looking in, I want you here, in the middle, with us, right where you belong. We could be good, all of us, in any of the pairs we singled off to be, but I think together? Together the three of us could be something even more amazing. We could balance each other out in a way we never could if it was just two of us alone. Understand each other in a way I think all of us need. We've already been doing it, sort of. Unofficially. Ganging up on each other when one of us needs the reinforcement, or reassurance. We're stronger together then we are alone, and I want that to apply to everything.
You're right that feelings don't go away so easily, but princess, I think you're focusing on the wrong feelings. Stop standing in your own way. I'm giving you permission to take what you want. Just like you did that night in the maze. When you didn't let your fear stop you, or your head dictate to your heart what you should or shouldn't do. None of us know what's going to happen tomorrow or the next day or the next week. We might wake up one morning and one of us will be gone. Or all of us. Are you really going to say that this wouldn't be worth it to you to try? In the time we have here together? Because I can pretty confidently say Claude and I want you here - have wanted you here, this entire time. And I don't know how to make that more plain to you.
You can sit there and let your head continue to spin you in circles with all the things that could possibly go wrong, break your own heart, break ours, in the process. But you're not going to find happiness there, and neither are we. So take the risk, Hilda. Take what you want. Try it with us. Let us show you it can work, if you can't find it in you to believe on your own. Let us show you how good we can be.
no subject
If Hilda's ends up in his lap he'll reach out long enough to steady her but nothing more in the way of restraints to not keep her from fleeing if that's her next move. And though Sylvain's words aren't meant for him, not really, he still listens closely - and the more he listens the more it unearths a truth to him. A need; it's one Claude hadn't known he possesses until listening to this as it goes on with reassurances he hadn't thought to ask for when they'd talked, but nor had they been offered. This is leagues away from uncertainty. And is it because of what he'd said or hadn't said, or simply because Sylvain wasn't willing to believe the idea of being wanted before, and something through this conversation has changed it?
It's a thought that can wait until later, and Claude shoves it back down beneath everything else when it's not as important as this. By the end of what Sylvain says, he has to think when so much of what the other man's said he agrees with. They could have been the very things he'd say to Hilda if they were having this conversation again and in the same line of thinking as before, perhaps parts of that are what should have been said back in the spa rather than saving them with the belief he'd get to say them to her later. There's a failing here, and it's his for letting her continue to harbor the same doubts despite what they did say to each other.
But - there's more to be added to make it all sink in. If Sylvain won't touch on it beyond this, then he will. ]
If we're playing a game of what ifs here then you've forgotten a few, Hilda. What if you decide you don't want either of us? What if you fall for someone else or even multiple someone elses? I don't think you can say you won't either because none of us can predict the future. Maybe none of this will last forever, or maybe it will. There's no guarantees here. Like Sylvain said, one or all of us could be gone tomorrow since it isn't like we planned to ever even be here in the first place. I don't want to wake up one day, find that's the case, and then have to live with the regret of never trying even if trying ends up meaning having this conversation and nothing else.
The reality is this: neither of us can force you to believe us. There's nothing we can say which will be the perfect words to make it happen. Beyond that, there's only so many times we can tell you whatever we can before you have to decide if you do or not. It's the same in reverse, for the record, because we've both told you you aren't the only one with doubts. But if you always listen for only the negatives, you'll miss what's actually being said.
At some point you have to take a leap and trust someone will be there to catch you, and you're not alone in struggling with that. For a long time in my life... for far too long it felt like there was no one I could ever count on but myself. And then I met you, and then I met the Deer, and then I met Sylvain in a different way than before back in a place which, frankly, should mean nothing in what we're living now because this isn't Fodlan and nothing from there applies. The list goes on from there with everyone we would've never known existed if not for being here.
But this also isn't about either one of us asking you to accept something you can't as it should be all around, too. That's unfair and what I wanted to avoid from the beginning. This is about finding something that works for all of us, not just one or two of us, or whatever it ends up being. If this isn't what you want either now or later on if feelings do change - I don't think either of us will hold that against you. I know I won't. But you should know that if your only reason for saying no now is because you think that by doing so you're doing either of us some sort of favor or kindness: you aren't.
no subject
Hilda feels her calves hit another surface - Claude. She flails backwards barely missing knocking him and Sylvain both in the head with her flailing arms (although it would serve Sylvain right for trying to box her in). In a desperate bid to keep herself from looking at Sylvain, from toppling over into panic that she won't be able to claw her way out from, she keeps her eyes firmly affixed on a spot on the floor between them, expression unreadable.
When had her mindset shifted from taking carelessly to walling herself off from the things she wants, she wonders? Before the war, she wanted to live every day to the fullest and that had become more true during it. When had she become so chronically cautious? So optimistically pessimistic? Was it when she learned that she had died? Or maybe she had seen the way someone who held a piece of her heart looked at others the way she wanted him to look at her. Or had it been when she realized she had feelings for one of those people too and knew with startling clarity that she'd never be able to compare?
There's too much being said. Far more than any of them have ever said to one another ever and it's too much for her to process, too much for her airy mind to hold. But she hears them all, rebuttals coming and going at the same rapid speed, unable to make it past her lips because they just keep talking. They rise unbidden all the same: If nothing mattered from Fodlan, then why was Claude trying so hard for them to work when he'd had better options? A princess and an heir were better than a youngest daughter with just a Crest to her name. A man who could love multiple souls at once without a pinprick of jealousy in his heart and a man who was smart and talented, who knew all the right things to say and the right things to do, were better fits for someone who deserved the world rather than someone flighty and careless.
She was so flighty that she could fall in love with someone new every day if she wanted to and break their hearts in one blissfully ignorant swoop. So flighty that she knew how to dodge feelings like she dodged chores and boring lectures because that's what flight risks did. But then she got too close. And despite this misstep, this spectacular, embarrassing fall, she knew that she'd never feel anything this strongly for anyone like the way she did now for the two of them. So in that sense, they were wrong. ]
Okay.
[ An agreement following a realization like that shouldn't sound like a word of defeat or like a whimper of submission but hers does. Everything they said is true even if it feels like the walls that she had put up around her heart to distance herself from them are being battered with tender violence and intent leaving her terrified, trembling and exposed. ]
I can't do this without rules though.
[ Her voice is quiet as she clutches at her arms, still refusing to look at either of them. Eventually she forces more words out before she loses the nerve but it's still fear driving her, telling her that this is the only way. ]
I can't do anything about this jealousy. I might never be able to. And the thought of being soft and kind about either of you having any kind of feelings or wanting anyone else makes me so sick and sad. The only thing I can think of is asking you both not to be with someone else right now.
[ Guilt and panic prickles across her body and she squeezes tighter, hating how this sounds. ]
And I know how selfish that is but that's how I feel. And I'll stop whatever it is I'm doing with Alucard too because it isn't fair for me to ask that of either of you if I don't stop too. I can't think of any other way while we're figuring this out. I can't be with either one of you, I can't try for us knowing that you're either with other people or maybe developing feelings for other people. I don't care if it's a what if because that's just how I feel. And if that's not okay then I'll... [ Her voice breaks as she curls in on herself. ] I'm scared of losing you both to someone else. I'm tired of being sad and I just want to move on from this. I can't do this anymore.
[ Is this a boundary or is this some desperate bid to force their hands so that Sylvain would pick Jesper over her? One last ditch effort to make them see that Claude and Sylvain should be together, not because it's a kindness, but because it would just work better. It would be easier. Or maybe, the creature whispers as it grips her heart in its claws, she's just been this awful and cruel all along. All of that paint, sparkle and pretty perfume were just an attempt to mask the toxic stench beneath the veneer. What sort of person that claimed to care for them would make them choose?
Not Claude or Sylvain. Just her. ]
no subject
[ That's something he can easily agree to, here. Whatever she needs to feel more reassured about this. Comfortable with them.
But then she goes on to explain and he can't help but freeze above her, his breath catching in his throat. Someone else. That... That's pointed at him, it has to be, because he's pretty sure Claude's not with anyone else right now. It's a stab to his gut, bringing back up the very real concern that he's the problem here, has been all along. Jesper's face flickers in his mind and he feels his chest tighten uncomfortably.
He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes. He doesn't know what he should say to that, mind reeling as he tries to grasp for a solution that doesn't cost him more than he'd realized he'd be willing to give.
He starts to pull back, stunned, the foundation for what he hoped they could build together starting to crumble under his feet. ]
no subject
Claude reaches to place a hand on Hilda's waist with a tentative touch, something meant to be an anchor beyond words alone though he's unsure how welcome it actually is as she continues on and what she says following the mention of rules causes him to go still. There's a logic in what she says that's rooted in pain so deep it echoes throughout every word. What was a twinge before is an outright ache now as he holds onto her and listens before glancing up in time to catch that look on Sylvain's face like the world had just dropped out from beneath the other man's feet. With his one hand still on Hilda's waist as if to say this isn't a signal to get up either, he leans forward to grab Sylvain's wrist with his other hand to prevent either of them from going anywhere with a firmness that isn't meant to be unkind. ]
There's one part of that I'm not going to agree to. Hilda, you and I don't get to ask Sylvain to stop seeing Jesper. Otherwise, he should be the one to stop seeing us because he's been with Jesper for longer. That's something that you and I are going to have to learn to handle on our own. You're more than allowed to feel whatever you do about their relationship and it's also entirely unfair to ask him to do that. Both of those things can be true at the same time, and no one's asking you to be soft or kind about it or anything else either.
I meant it about having to find something that works for all of us, so setting rules is a good way to go about that and we absolutely should. But what isn't going to be a good idea is something which doesn't involve some level of compromise when working on this together means finding what will work without breaking anyone's heart.
[ Because that much Claude feels confident in saying it would do to Sylvain even if the man in question can't seem to bring himself to say it (aloud) and while in the same breath he's trying to not break Hilda's. There's compromises to find that will work, he's certain of it, rather than drawing such stark lines without any bend to them. They just have to look for them first. ]
Never talking about what anyone else is doing is also a good way to feed into distrust and resentment, and none of us are immune to those feelings. Even if honesty is painful, we owe that much to each other from here on. There's no one else I'm seeing right now but if that did somehow change in the future, I would tell both of you about it because hiding it would be a lot worse. And though it probably goes without saying, I still want to make it clear I would hope that you would both do the same for me.
So the rules I'm proposing as an alternative are this: Sylvain keeps seeing Jesper. Same for you with Alucard, Hilda, because I'm not going to tell you to stop doing anything that makes you happy either. Though along with that, I think it'd be fair to also put out there anyone's allowed at any time to say they'd rather not hear details about anyone else's relationships outside of ours. Same for if they would rather not be around that at somewhere like the inn or here at the loft while we do try this. And then most importantly, whatever rules we set now whether it's these or something else don't have to last forever, but they also don't ever get to be changed without all of us talking about them first. That's just a start to us discussing this, so how does that sound so far?
[ It is just a start and nothing more, and certainly nothing immediately decisive: they still have more to cover and will beyond this one conversation. They won't think of everything at this time, but leaving the door always open to talk? That part might feel like something not negotiable in Claude's mind, but it's important to hear their thoughts on that too and whether they disagree. ]
no subject
Hilda knows this feeling, this stinging disappointment that permeates the air. This is what she feared the most. The buzzing at the base of her skull grows louder, drowning out the sound of the fire and she feels short of breath. Claude's gentle, but firm scolding of her last ditch attempt stings her cheeks, the shame rising in her throat. Unbeknownst to her, something akin to a large monstrous flower flickers over her face like an image distorted - before it's gone as quickly as it comes.
There it is. Confirmation that she isn't everything she tries to paint herself to be. How are they better together, she wonders, when all she's been good at since arriving is causing them both trouble and asking unreasonable things? She's a creature of habit. This would happen again. They'd barely begun and this only proves to her that there is no reward for being greedy. She should have kept plastering her walls over with gossamer and silk and been the good supportive friend she wanted to be. And there's still a chance for her to do that if she says she can't agree to what is a reasonable compromise.
She could play the bratty princess card, the one she knew like the back of her hand. The one that loved to bemoan how cruel the world was to her when it was actually the other way around. Her complaints and cruel jibes are already on the tip of her tongue: Why is she compromising when she's been told to be greedy and take what she wants? Why couldn't someone be as greedy for her as she was for them and only her? And if Claude was already wagering, predicting, that he would fall for someone else so soon, shouldn't she save herself the heartbreak and tears now? Sylvain would be fine if that happened, he'd land on his feet. He had love in spades already - he just couldn't see it yet. She couldn't put herself through this again. She wouldn't. And if she had to stomp on some hearts in the process, she would because if life taught her anything, everything was replaceable after some tears and some coin. Life would go on and she'd forget all about it the next day.
As tempting, as easy, as those words would be to say, they taste acrid on her tongue. She knows she would never say those things because, despite already bruising them, she never wanted anything to happen to their dear hearts. And more importantly, she didn't mean any of those things. Nothing, no one, could replace them, not even Alucard and her friend knew that. Others could take her place though, less problematic others. Brilliant, better, others that matched the way they shone - not like her fool's gold. Hilda knows she's the problem. Despairingly she wonders why they couldn't see that. Why else would she have offered up a condition so awful and manipulative? So hurtful? So unforgiving? How does she ever make amends after this? Conflicting emotions war inside her and she grips herself tighter, fingernails digging into her flesh drawing in shallow, shuddering breathes in an attempt to pull herself together.
Her voice is thick, heavy and toneless as shame weighs down her head until her gaze lands on the same spot on the floor. ]
Sylvain was seeing someone first. If we're following that logic, he should have the first say.
no subject
It's enough to have him mentally saying fuck it and calling up on abilities he didn't like actively using on them, not when it felt too much like cheating, or an invasion of their privacy. That didn't block what they sent him sometimes, of course, but this was different. This was him looking.
And what he gets from her is... fear. Choking, curling fear, with the sour taste of shame under it. It's enough to lock his legs in place as his gaze narrows on her, on her posture. On what she could be thinking, and why that was her answer to this. ]
No. [ His voice is quiet but steady now as he watches her face, still trying to read what he's picking up from her. Trying to make sense of this. ] That's not how we're doing this. There's no 'first' or 'last'. There's just us, all on equal footing, trying to figure this out together.
And you're still trying to sabotage this. Why, Hilda? I understand you're afraid of what might happen. I get that agreeing to this, trying this, gives us the chance to hurt you if it all goes bad - trust me, no one understands that better than me. Claude, too, I'd wager. It's a risk we're all going to have to take here, but I think it's - we're - worth that risk. Is it us... is it me you don't trust here, or is it yourself?
[ He's already scared to hear that answer, but he asks it anyway. ]
no subject
Not Sylvain's face this time; what he can see of Hilda's is what he studies where everything reads like defeat. It matches the mention of sabotage, a word which didn't click into place until it's now hanging in the air between all three of them. So does the weight of all of this being a way to hurt each other even without that being the intent, and not for the first time he considers whether they're well past that. For all the confidence he's had in this, fear begins to creep in at an increasing rate.
Sylvain's ending question - there's another possible answer which isn't mentioned. But unlike his own questions in the Nether he came across where he was afraid to ask, this one Claude doesn't feel like he needs to in order to find out. It doesn't need to be said aloud that on some level or possibly - likely - multiple, that Hilda doesn't trust him to be true, or for that to be something he's undeniably earned.
He stays silent. He's said enough, and enough of what Sylvain says overlaps with his own thoughts whirling around his mind that he's not certain there's any point in essentially repeating it. On this Claude feels he shouldn't lest it end up not seeming like the support he'd intend to offer if he did, and instead he sits frozen with nothing to do but wait for what will follow. ]
no subject
Not saying those things however makes way for other feelings to stir up from the rubble of her heart. For a realization that she hadn't voiced, perhaps ever in the time that she had known Claude, but had certainly thought since their fight and one that he thought, except about her. She trusted him - but there was still a crack in their foundation, one that still had yet to be repaired. Her nails dig in a little harder. ]
It's not you that I don't trust. [ She says it so weakly that it may as well have been a whimper. ] Claude and I - we haven't...
[ Really spoken about their fractured trust? Done anything except maybe hold hands and talk more than they had before their fight because she didn't know how to anymore? Her voice trails off, dripping in shame because she doesn't want to land another blow. She had the bruises across her knuckles to prove that she had been recklessly brutal. She had left cuts, wounds and scars in her wake. Why couldn't they just see that the only reason it would end in disappointment was because of her? That no matter how hard she wished for it, her insides would be rotten to the core and that she would be more destructive than she would ever be delicate? ]
That will take time to repair. I know that, but that's not really the reason. I don't trust myself. I'm terrified of disappointing you both because I'm going to screw this up again. I already have with that stupid rule. And I'm just going to keep disappointing you both because the minute something doesn't go my way I'm going to be greedy, selfish and awful.
[ The last word is sobbed and the tears begin to spill in earnest this time. Relinquishing the hold on her arms she presses the heels of her palms into her eyes to staunch them. ]
I don't want to do that. I don't want either of you to be disappointed in me. I'm trying to save you both the hurt - why can't you see that?
no subject
That’s the last thing he wants. He doesn’t want to see that look on Claude's face any more, the careful way he can see him holding himself, how still he’s gone. He doesn’t want to see Hilda crying anymore, feel this aching pain washing out from her in waves. But this time, her jagged edges are aimed just as much inward as they are outward.
He doesn’t tug her hands away from her face, although he’s tempted to. Tempted to swipe his fingers under her eyes to chase away any trace of those tears. But sometimes those need to be shed, and since he can’t tell if this is one of those times or not, he lets them fall. But he does wrap his arms around her shoulders now and draw her in against his chest. Tucks her head in against his shoulder and holds her much like he had so many months ago, when she’d ended up spilling her tears in his bed. One hand smooths over her hair, trying to comfort her, as he meets Claude’s gaze over her head. Trying to gauge if he’s alright, or if those deadly cracks are already widening under their feet. ]
Sweetheart. You haven’t screwed anything up. I’m not going to say you didn’t catch me off guard, because you did. [ That and… he hadn’t actually realized he’d mattered enough here for anyone to get jealous over. Which sounded harsh when he thought it like that, but he knew his relationship with each of them was nothing compared to the depth of tangled feelings they had for each other.
He rests a hand against the back of her head, pressing his lips to her hair. ] We can see it, Hilda. But there’s a problem with your logic. You’re trying to protect us from you, from the hurt you think you’ll cause. But in the process, you’re taking that choice away from us entirely. You’re taking away the potential joy and warmth and happiness and everything wonderful that comes from sharing new experiences with you. All of what the three of us could be together. Yes, that trust is going to take time to repair, I’m not going to diminish that that’s going to need time and healing and effort from both of you.
But Hilda? Trust us to know what we want. What we believe is worth the risk of maybe hurting for, because we believe that the gains we could find instead are so much more precious. We’re all going to have moments when we’re greedy and selfish - we’re human, all of us. But please try and trust us to work through that with you, work through it with each other, when those rear their ugly heads. You’ve been trying, all this time, to deal with it on your own, but sweetheart, it’s been winning. It’s still influencing all your choices and making you afraid.
We all have something that preys on us in our weak moments. Makes us doubt ourselves. For you, it’s this. For me… [ He pauses, takes a deep breath as he closes his eyes. She’s been so bluntly honest with them. She deserves the honesty back. No matter how painful. ] For me, it’s believing that I’ll never be enough to meet either of you halfway. I never have been and it’s hard to believe that will ever change. That it could ever be different. So much of the time here I’ve just… been biding my time, waiting for either of you to wake up and realize this is all it is, all I have to offer, and it still falls too far short. That I’m not worth the trouble, when it comes down to it.
I know what I’m good for, and it’s not something like this. People that came after me for a relationship were never really interested in me, and the ones that did come after me for me… They always only wanted a quick fuck, no strings attached, because my reputation had to be good for something, right? That’s all any of them ever amounted to. Ever.
I’m… temporary. A placeholder, one people fool themselves into thinking it’s what they want, until they get a taste of the real thing, and realize that it’s not what they thought, and not enough to satisfy them for longer than a brief fling. A taste. A cheap imitation.
I could pull away just as easily. I almost did. The only thing I thought I could do here was make things more complicated for you two, until you figured out what you wanted of each other. I thought, if I were a better friend or lover, I’d take myself out of the picture so you could get on with that discovery, without distracting either one of you. But every time I tried to make that decision, commit to it, it felt… wrong. Painful. My head was convinced it was the best path, but my heart… wouldn’t let me do it.
[ He tugs gently on a lock of her hair, not looking at Claude, not looking at anything, because that was more vulnerability than he was comfortable with, just out there now, potentially to be used against him. Deep-rooted fears that still won in dictating his actions and words sometimes. ]
I think your heart’s been trying to do the same thing, so start listening to that, not your head. Not the fears and doubts that tell you you’re just going to ruin this. Because I don’t think they’re right. And I don’t want them to be right. But the longer you let them make your choices for you, Hilda, the more it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.
no subject
This feeling isn't one he can compartmentalize away as easily as the rest to be tucked away and examined later when it's more convenient and in solitude. It demands to be felt, forces him to look at his own failures here in the light of day instead of dissected on any number of late nights as he's done over and over. It slips beneath any number of his masks and pries them away to sink its claws in to take hold, and Claude closes his eyes when Hilda speaks again. To listen, he tells himself, to really listen when what she says is still more denials, more fears. Ones he can't fault anyone but himself for.
And not for the first time the question's crossed his mind, not for any lack of wondering if this isn't his own selfishness he wonders: is it not kinder to let her go if that's what she really wants?
Again Sylvain moves to action first, and Claude opens his eyes to stare at the wall without really seeing it or anything else around as he listens while still processing the rest of what Hilda's said. The ever present temptation to rebuild armor lurks about the edges of things as usual and grows ever more difficult to resist - but he does, because it was giving into that which caused part of this in the first place in his own self fulfilling prophecy. It's unfair to hold back when both of them are reaching out with their fears in hand, and looking away's impossible for too long between Hilda's tears still falling and the deliberate rhythm of what Sylvain says.
Some of the missing pieces in the disconnects fall into place as they're revealed by their owners, and it's not just the jewelry box which comes to mind but all of those I don't knows he'd received as a response to what he'd asked. They were the wrong questions, it turns out. There were too many unknowns in his conversations with both Hilda and Sylvain, and even this one here. For all that's said, there are still loose ends and ones which deserve to be pointed out if this does end up being the only chance they'll get to ever talk about this. ]
Neither of you are disposable or temporary. Not to me, and if there's anything I want most out of this it's for both of you... no, all of us to stop thinking that or at least trying to convince ourselves of it because we've been thinking it in various ways to ourselves all along. And if the thought wasn't quite so explicit, we've found ways to convince ourselves of it through other methods, but it doesn't change that you're enough to me. You are, and you are for exactly who you are right now and not for you who think you should be or could be. You're both more than enough.
[ It's not the most eloquent way he's ever tried to start a thought even as he's practically begging his mind to shape this into something better - something that will be the right words to serve as a salve to wounds they all have both self-inflicted, from each other, and from pasts which won't serve them for the future. The hand he'd wanted to place on Hilda's shoulder before he does now though he lets it rest tentatively on her back in case it's not welcome, and he reaches with his other one to curl fingers around one of Sylvain's wrists again. ]
I meant what I said before and I'll expand it now to say if any one of us leaves because it's supposed to spare someone's feelings or is somehow the right thing to do: it won't spare anything, and it's not. Whatever time where that might've been possible is long past, because I think all three of us can admit that it'll cause far more pain than it's supposedly avoiding. I'm asking you both to not do that, and I don't want to do that to both of you either.
Even for all this discussion, I don't expect for that trust to be there right away. It'll be something we have to learn when none of us have ever done this before. But stumbling blocks or challenges have never kept me from wanting something before with all the good, bad, and painful parts to them that can be included, and this is no exception. If something in this gets messed up - and it will, because that's inevitable and that's just life - we'll still have each other to lean on and figure it out.
no subject
She hated running so much that she'd resolved never to run for anything, for anyone. Running was for people who had places to go, things to achieve. She had neither. So why not meander instead and enjoy the world as she passed through it? Armed with no responsibilities and silly superficial dreams she could do as she liked. Planning for the long term has never been her forte. Why start now? But fear gripped her. Squeezed her so tight that she hadn't realized she had been in the throes of it until those claws dug into her flesh. The thought of disappointing people has always had a chokehold on her. She didn't think another fear could take its place - but something had. Had it been a byproduct of the war, festering and biding its time until she had arrived here and seen the way her friends had forged something she felt like an outsider to? Or was new fear a consequence to the growing pains she had been artfully dodging for so long? Twenty-six with no big goals, no big dreams. It left a hole, a gnawing wound for loneliness to grow. Hilda had thought she had been content with being as beautiful but unremarkable as a pretty bouquet. Instead she realized that the thought terrified her. She didn't want to decay. She didn't want to be left behind on a shelf, slowly wilting and decaying until she was tossed out.
It tore her in two, this newfound desire to run towards something, someone, that she wanted while staying true to what she knew. What would happen if she ran and nothing came of it? What if she was left worse than how she felt for months - a pretty shell hollowed from the inside out? Paralyzed by these polarizing fears, she had stubbornly dug her feet into the ground repeating to herself what she had for all these years: she didn't run for anything. For anyone. But for them, her heart had.
A part of her thought her heart foolish for that for a multitude of reasons: she's a coward, all her sweetness had rotted her to her core and once they saw that they'd turn her away. But in spite of that she still kept running. A consolation prize is all she could hope for, she thinks. Even if she caught up she'd always be two steps behind them because that's where she belonged. She had no destination. Where they'd go she would follow – so long as they let her. So long as time allowed. In many ways it was similar to how Sylvain felt but he had potential that burned brighter than he wanted to admit one that outshone his Crest, his family name. It could burn as bright as Claude if he let it. She never planned, but she had always known that her presence by Claude was finite. She knew her time with Sylvain was too for different reasons.
With no guarantee she had run until her lungs burned and her knees had given out. All of this could be in vain. Had she run just so she could stand still again? But in spite of that, because of that finite time they have, her heart still urged her on. Maybe it's the both of them, baring their hearts out in a way that she had never thought possible that finally brings her to a slow, jagged breath. Their words settle against her skin like the faint touch of Claude’s hand against her back and Sylvain's lips against her hair. When she finally stops, when it feels like her heart is about to give out, a realization crashes over her: she hadn't run for nothing. They were still here. In spite of all her wretchedness, of her attempts at self-sabotage, they hadn't left.
Her gaze lifts inch by inch before turning slowly to look back at Claude with tear-stained cheeks and a stuttering chest. Remorse for what she said even if it had been true fills her gaze as she shifts so that she's now sideways in his lap. A hand reaches to cup his face with the same reverent quality from times before. ]
You both make it sound so easy. You always have. [ Her voice is quiet and watery. ] It's more confidence that anyone should ever give me because... [ The implication that she'd only disappoint them hangs in the air like a blade waiting to swing. It doesn't matter whether it was a silly chore, caring for a heart, defending a bridge, she could always be counted on to disappoint. ] I don't think I'm capable of living up to it.
[ Claude had already said that he thought they were enough. But believing that didn't happen overnight and denying it would only serve to send her into an endless loop of tears and self-loathing. There's a beat where the only sound is of her sniffling and the crackle of fire, the silence possibly filling in everything caustic she has to work to swallow. The feeling of Claude's skin under her thumb is soothing, effective in keeping her grounded instead of floating away down a despondent rabbit hole. ]
But maybe, this time, I want to believe that I can. [ Her gaze turns towards Sylvain, hand reaching to cup his face as tenderly as she does Claude's. ] That we can. I want that. I want us.
[ Tears prick at the corner of her eyes again, a stray one escaping. There's more that has to be said before she can think of agreeing to walk together on this uncertain path because she'd never be able to forgive herself if she didn't. The remorse bubbles over. ]
I'm sorry for hurting you both. I know it isn't much because I say a lot of things I don't mean. But I mean this. I know that you both may never forgive me and neither of you have to because I wouldn't either. But I'll do whatever I need to make it up to you both. You mean so much to me.
[ More than she can eloquently put into words. More than any jewels she could horde, more than any silk she'd covet. More than her heart can bear. ]
no subject
When Hilda sniffs and starts to speak, his gaze flits back to her face. Fingers absently reach to brush away her tears as they fall, but he listens, tries to push aside his own fears so he can hear.
The emotions he’s picking up from her now are too tangled to pick apart, though, so he has to go by her words alone. But his expression softens slightly as her words trail off, hand coming to cup her cheek. He doesn’t look to Claude, leaves the decision of what he wants to say to the other man as he leans in and captures Hilda’s lips in a warm, chaste kiss. Slow and soft.
When he pulls back, it’s to hold her gaze, his own expression serious and earnest in a way he’s typically not. No joking, no teasing, no light-hearted diversion in sight. ]
You’re already forgiven, sweet. And hopefully you’ll forgive us if we’ve been careless, too. You don’t have anything to make up for. In fact, maybe we should just try and start fresh from here. A clean slate, to see where the three of us can go. Not that what we’ve felt and what we’ve said should be forgotten - it shouldn’t. But maybe we can build something new, something better, on the rubble of the old.
no subject
It's difficult to not think of the rifts, where he'd watched them take on the dragon and felt the same kind of crushing reality tightening his chest as it is now at a realization rising unbidden: that the two of them were his whole heart. And they are now, too, as the three of them sit here where it no longer feels so much like teetering upon the precipice of disaster. It's a chance to do better than before, and one Claude knows he won't squander.
With his face leaned into Hilda's palm to soak up a touch he treasures, he watches with a smile as Sylvain leans in to kiss her and lets his gaze trace over both what he can see of Hilda's expression and the one on the other man's face. ]
I think not looking back would be for the best. Also not to forget it or pretend it didn't happen, like Sylvain said, but because holding onto that as anything other than as something we don't want to repeat won't clear the way to move forward. There's nothing more I'd like to do than just that and with both of you. All of us, together.
no subject
A soft noise of surprise flutters from the back of her throat taken aback by the feeling of Sylvain's lips meeting hers. But her body seems to know what to do, kissing him in return with more sweetness and emotion than she feels capable of expressing in that moment. Warmth rises to her cheeks, a product of being faintly aware that Claude's gaze is on them and at the seriousness of Sylvain's expression. But it's all of those things including their words about starting anew, starting over together that shields her from her corrosive thoughts. They make her heart feel lighter than it has in months.
Her gaze lingers on Sylvain her thumb ghosting across his skin before turning back towards Claude. Yearning weaves itself into the silence that settles between them as she regards him. She's shied away so many times in the last several months from showing signs of intimacy towards him, afraid of what it could unravel. But emboldened, she closes the space between them, pressing a kiss to his lips. It's brief but it's warm, filled with her promise to try and of what she says silently every time she kisses him: That she cares. That she always will.
When she pulls away she slips both of her arms over their shoulders to draw them close so their heads rest against one another's. This time her watery voice is lighter than before. Even in the face of her fear, it's laced with hope that begins to take root in her bones. ]
That's all I want. I don't want to be anywhere else.
no subject
[ There’s no resistance in him when she pulls them all closer together. Which is what they all needed each other for in the first place. One of his arms winds its way around her waist, while the other tangles fingers with Claude’s.
There’s a smile on his lips as he watches them kiss, his eyes dark and heated and warm. He presses a kiss to the top of Hilda’s head before laying his cheek against it. ]
This is where we belong. Each of us.
no subject
He might have hesitated in the form of waiting, but Hilda doesn't. As she leans in there's just enough time for a smile to ghost over his lips before he returns that kiss with more unspoken behind it on his end, too; some of the urgency that used to be there in impressing all of what's unsaid might be gone, if only because there's time now they've never had to said it aloud. The same goes for Sylvain, he realizes, because all of those questions which whispered their way back throughout this will want their answers eventually.
But now as they lean together and he squeezes Sylvain's hand in his and rests against them both? There's nothing but contentment. ]
It is, without a single doubt, and together even more so.
[ A word he'll not tire of saying any time soon, and one that'll continue to be true to him. ]