[ CLOSED ] the dawn is opening

[godshattering]

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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[godshattering]

[ His brow furrows briefly as Hilda mentions Sylvain and Jesper, something which doesn't seem to compute in this conversation about them before anyone else even gets involved in figuring it out, and said furrow grows deeper when she tries to deny they should care about her for being herself. As if there's some other version of her that either one of them grew to care about instead of the very person standing with her back to them, and no one other than that. Stubbornness keeps his mouth shut in case she has more to say, but it turns out Sylvain does instead as he carefully corrals her back into the conversation's fold.

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.

[theidlemaiden]

[ Hilda doesn't expect either of them to leave her standing where she is for very long, but had hoped that they might just leave her alone a little while longer. Anything or anyone touching her right now only sends the nerves under her skin alight. She couldn't stand the thought of being physically suffocated because her mind was doing all of that for her already. When Sylvain appears in front of her, her gaze snaps up, some of that steel from before rising in her eyes as she tries to keep her distance. She almost bares her teeth to him but she finds herself glaring instead, held at bay by his words. It persists even as she's hearded backwards like some sheep to a pen.

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. ]

[philancer]

Rules are probably a good idea, on all our counts.

[ 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. ]

[godshattering]

[ Trying as he is to hold things together the best way he knows how, it's impossible to not feel a painful twinge in his chest when Hilda surrenders. That first word from her feels like it brushes up too much against what he doesn't want to happen, which is both of them placing too much weight on her for it to be truly her decision. At the same time, he can recognize - now - the value of how this started with those false pretenses of coming to hang out. If it hadn't happened, would they have had any of this talk at all?

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. ]

[theidlemaiden]

[ The seconds stretch as Hilda waits for the axe to swing. If there's one thing she could count on was that Sylvain and Claude both hated rules so surely, they'd balk at hers. Is it sick that a part is counting on that? Hopes that they tell her no, absolutely not? That she's out of her mind, she's selfish, she's everything she had been telling them she is because the thing they have with each other is good and sweet and she's something long turned sour? She feels Claude's hand come to her waist and she jolts like a rabbit ready to bolt, not because she thinks he's trying to hold her in place, but because he's furious with her. But no shove comes, and when her instinct to bolt rears, it's stopped in its tracks when she sees Sylvain's stricken expression like she had just punched him in the gut. It spears her through, rooting her to the spot.

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.

[philancer]

[ Claude's fingers closing around his wrist is the only thing that keeps him anchored in place when he would have pulled away. It's enough to freeze him in place while he lets the other man talk. Try to soften the cut and offering a compromise. He's still reeling, though. Is, until the silence drags out after those words and he sees Hilda's fingers tighten where she curls into herself on Claude's lap.

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. ]

[godshattering]

[ The lack of response from Hilda beyond folding in even further on herself rings several alarm bells in his mind. His grip on Sylvain loosens until Claude lets go, instead letting that hand hover over her shoulder as if debating whether to place it there. The flinch away from his touch from moments ago still lingers in his mind, startled as he'd been by it as she'd been the same, and so he drops his hand into his lap and watches.

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. ]

[theidlemaiden]

[ There hasn't been enough time for her hurt manifesting as pettiness to retreat when Sylvain speaks. Cruel barbs swirl to the tip of her tongue but all of them bounce off the back of her teeth, her guilt preventing them from seeing the light of day.

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? 

[philancer]

[ He’s still spying on her emotions, trying to interpret her reaction to his words, because he needs to understand this. They need to get this right. He can understand the depths of the cracks here - between all of them - and that if left to fester, they’ll fracture everything that could possibly come after.

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.

[godshattering]

[ It seems there was no choice in asking or not to hear it said aloud. It's not you that I don't trust. A handful of words, a complete thought - one he'd assumed, but hearing it aloud presses the air from his lungs as it slides in as painfully as any blade. Like a jewelry box toppling from its hiding place out into the open, like any attempt he'd made to even more things to match before giving up when it hurt move than leaving them there. Whatever composure Claude has left is rapidly slipping through his fingers as he gaze glances over Sylvain's in passing before he looks away as if that's going to conceal anything, but with how he's reeling he can't bring himself to care or to listen to the barely started explanation which sputters out in the same breath.

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.

[theidlemaiden]

[ Unless it involved running away from something, Hilda hated running. Ironically enough, that's all she felt she's done since arriving in Abraxas. Not in the literal sense (although there had been plenty of it in the literal sense) but metaphorically. Upon arrival it had become wildly clear to her that everyone she knew from home had had a head start: in understanding Abraxas, in building new lives, relationships, feelings.

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. ]

[philancer]

[ He feels that stab of pain from Claude so viscerally that his own breath hitches for a moment, eyes going to the other man’s face, but he’s pointedly looking away. At least until he speaks up again and then his fingers are wrapping around Sylvain’s wrist and he clings to that touch, as if it’s the last bit of reassurance that this isn’t still crumbling beneath her feet. That he hadn’t just pulled out the wrong piece of the puzzle and sent the whole tower collapsing on them.

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.

[godshattering]

[ He doesn't look away when Hilda turns to him, nor does he flinch upon seeing all the evidence of that pain etched across her face. Tears he'd like to wipe away if it wasn't for still feeling somewhat frozen in place by - everything, he admits to himself, because this conversation's pulled out so much of what they've all been hiding. It was necessary or rather, it is necessary since Claude can't imagine he's the only one still holding onto things, and as many aches as it might cause now? It will be worth them in the end. Despite it all - because of it all, he still believes that. There are things worth fighting for, and both of them are it.

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.

[theidlemaiden]

[ In spite of everything it's hard for her to believe that she'll be forgiven so easily. She knows herself. Intimately understands how much of a vindictive creature she could become if left unchecked. If they were her, she might not have in their shoes and she wouldn't have blamed them. But perhaps that's her self-destructive tendency rearing its head. It's the doubt still trying sow its seeds.

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.

[philancer]

And neither do we.

[ 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.

[godshattering]

[ As Hilda turns to him, for once Claude doesn't immediately have something in mind to say. Maybe it's that they've all been emotionally wrought enough for a lifetime and then some from this conversation and everything leading up to it which leaves him at a loss, but not one he minds. For once it feels right to not have anything else to add. For this to be complete between the three of them as a solid foundation to build upon - to be together in it in a way which won't match anything from before, but will be better. He believes it.

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. ]