[ No, it probably wasn't all pretend. Not when there's all those indicators Claude's come to sense over the past couple of years that all those things Sylvain said he was, all those things he'd wield like a shield in front of him to keep anyone from looking too close: it was far more likely that the line had blurred at some point in there to where he'd started to believe some of it. That much was clear if Claude takes a second to consider a time on the rooftop when he and Hilda had pointed out everything good about Sylvain and the clearest brightest shining response in that was the discomfort as if they couldn't possibly be true.
He lets Sylvain stop and comes to a halt still beside him, still studying whatever's warring beneath that when it's not so hidden now. He wonders if the Sylvain not long after arriving would've shown any of this or would've kept laughing it off like that half-hearted attempt of a few seconds ago to dodge whatever else might be implied - or said - afterwards. Some of that retreat can still be found as Sylvain fumbles around the outline of several thoughts at once, and it's that which has Claude turning to place his hands on the other's shoulders to make him focus again. ]
No, it makes you someone who knows they deserve better than what awful hands they've been dealt. And on top of that, it certainly doesn't make you terrible, afraid, or selfish for wanting that or a chance to be free of it. [ In case that was coming next just to ward it off, though perhaps the intensity in Claude's voice now stems from experiences all his own in those firm denials. ] Look at me, Sylvain.
[ A trick he's used before and one he doesn't feel any guilt for doing now, and he'll stand there in stubborn silence as long as it takes until Sylvain does look at (or somewhere nearby) him before continuing. ]
You aren't your Crest, and there's no limits on who you can be if you decide on something else for yourself. But if you ever need a reminder of who you are beneath it all, you don't have to look very far: it's who you are here, no matter who's here or isn't.
no subject
He lets Sylvain stop and comes to a halt still beside him, still studying whatever's warring beneath that when it's not so hidden now. He wonders if the Sylvain not long after arriving would've shown any of this or would've kept laughing it off like that half-hearted attempt of a few seconds ago to dodge whatever else might be implied - or said - afterwards. Some of that retreat can still be found as Sylvain fumbles around the outline of several thoughts at once, and it's that which has Claude turning to place his hands on the other's shoulders to make him focus again. ]
No, it makes you someone who knows they deserve better than what awful hands they've been dealt. And on top of that, it certainly doesn't make you terrible, afraid, or selfish for wanting that or a chance to be free of it. [ In case that was coming next just to ward it off, though perhaps the intensity in Claude's voice now stems from experiences all his own in those firm denials. ] Look at me, Sylvain.
[ A trick he's used before and one he doesn't feel any guilt for doing now, and he'll stand there in stubborn silence as long as it takes until Sylvain does look at (or somewhere nearby) him before continuing. ]
You aren't your Crest, and there's no limits on who you can be if you decide on something else for yourself. But if you ever need a reminder of who you are beneath it all, you don't have to look very far: it's who you are here, no matter who's here or isn't.