[ Hilda hears the redirect - not the deflection - back towards what they had been talking about, but she isn't ready to let it go yet. Eventually when her gaze meets his, there's a seriousness in them that rarely makes an appearance. ]
If you care about him and want to be with him – you should. Sooner rather than later.
[ They both know it's a rhetorical question with only one correct answer but for Sylvain's sake she reinforces it all the same. The red head's voice rings out in her head: Claude and I didn't talk about things like that. He had sounded so final. So certain. In the face of such finality, Hilda rarely protested because that was too much time and effort wasted on something she probably didn't care that much about. But she cares. In spite of her greedy possessive nature, she cares about them telling each other things. Not just because they deserved to know everything about each other but because if they could just begin somewhere, it would prove her intentions to leave them better than she found them were the right ones.
It would prove to her that maybe she wasn't as greedy as she thought she was after all. And maybe she could find some peace, finally laying her feelings for him to rest.
Whether or not Claude intends it, the thought of their bet and her cruel threat of it during their argument rises unbidden to the top of her mind. For a moment she had been petty enough to consider holding it like a knife to his throat in an attempt to get him to open up. To talk to her. To have things go back to the way they were instead of locking truths behind drawers and buried underneath reams of parchment. But a knife hadn't been the way to bridge their divide. It had only shredded and torn his trust in her, driving them further apart.
Awash in all her shame and lingering hurt, something else flickers from it reminding her of what was more important here. In spite of all her cruel intentions and hateful words, he was still holding his heart out for her to take, still believing she was deserving of it. This time it's embarrassment that swells in her chest, forcing her gaze back towards their hands.
There's plenty more she could ask him. Wants to ask him in fact. Years of curiosity had seen to that. But as she cycles through them they're all stupid, frivolous things. Or things that she assumes might bring up painful memories of his childhood. But if she envied Petra's boldness, if she wished she could be even just a sliver as brave as the Queen of Almyra - then she had to start somewhere, didn't she? Hilda picks up where he had left off, gently drawing shapes against the back of his hand. ]
no subject
If you care about him and want to be with him – you should. Sooner rather than later.
[ They both know it's a rhetorical question with only one correct answer but for Sylvain's sake she reinforces it all the same. The red head's voice rings out in her head: Claude and I didn't talk about things like that. He had sounded so final. So certain. In the face of such finality, Hilda rarely protested because that was too much time and effort wasted on something she probably didn't care that much about. But she cares. In spite of her greedy possessive nature, she cares about them telling each other things. Not just because they deserved to know everything about each other but because if they could just begin somewhere, it would prove her intentions to leave them better than she found them were the right ones.
It would prove to her that maybe she wasn't as greedy as she thought she was after all. And maybe she could find some peace, finally laying her feelings for him to rest.
Whether or not Claude intends it, the thought of their bet and her cruel threat of it during their argument rises unbidden to the top of her mind. For a moment she had been petty enough to consider holding it like a knife to his throat in an attempt to get him to open up. To talk to her. To have things go back to the way they were instead of locking truths behind drawers and buried underneath reams of parchment. But a knife hadn't been the way to bridge their divide. It had only shredded and torn his trust in her, driving them further apart.
Awash in all her shame and lingering hurt, something else flickers from it reminding her of what was more important here. In spite of all her cruel intentions and hateful words, he was still holding his heart out for her to take, still believing she was deserving of it. This time it's embarrassment that swells in her chest, forcing her gaze back towards their hands.
There's plenty more she could ask him. Wants to ask him in fact. Years of curiosity had seen to that. But as she cycles through them they're all stupid, frivolous things. Or things that she assumes might bring up painful memories of his childhood. But if she envied Petra's boldness, if she wished she could be even just a sliver as brave as the Queen of Almyra - then she had to start somewhere, didn't she? Hilda picks up where he had left off, gently drawing shapes against the back of his hand. ]
Did you get along with any of your brothers?