[ Claude understands that sentiment more than he ever wanted to since finding out it was a possibility - let alone their reality.
It's a comfort to have anyone familiar, anyone he knows here after being here alone, and it's something he's grateful for since that's been more of a comfort than he could've bargained for. But it's also a bitter comfort because they haven't lived what he has to share it, and now they don't even know which version of it is right. If 'right' is even a description, let alone the best or accurate one when they all have quite clear memories of the war in differing ways. It's been months and he's no closer to making sense of that than he was from the first time Sylvain called Teach 'she' and mentioned taking up a base in Garreg Mach. Even as someone intent on keeping secrets any which way he can, it doesn't get any easier.
So Claude watches as Sylvain grimaces, assuming it's from the topic as he thinks of several jokes he could make to forget they ever even talked about this while they bury themselves in drinks like nothing's wrong. Gods know it's something he's used plenty himself. But he was the one who asked, and slamming that door shut after nudging it open is hardly fair. ]
I get it. [ Quietly, all cheer forced or actual far from present in those words. ] And more than anything, I wish that neither of us had to understand anything about that. No one should ever have to, and we shouldn't have to worry about it happening again here.
[ There's little to no comfort he can offer from being on the other side any more than being on the brink of it; knowing the end result doesn't make it easier to bear. Claude shifts his gaze back to his drink. The liquid within is at a standstill so he can watch as his reflection warps into something mocking. Something that drags up more that he should say, and for a long moment he sits and weighs whether he trusts Sylvain enough to voice it. In the end, he finds he does. ]
I had a dream the other night. One not about Gronder, it was - I don't know what it was, but since then. [ He stops abruptly. There's only one way this will sound and he's not fond of it, and even with that trust in mind he curls the fingers of one hand under to rest a partially formed fist against the bar. ] Since then I've been seeing everyone's faces everywhere and it feels a lot like that morning did.
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It's a comfort to have anyone familiar, anyone he knows here after being here alone, and it's something he's grateful for since that's been more of a comfort than he could've bargained for. But it's also a bitter comfort because they haven't lived what he has to share it, and now they don't even know which version of it is right. If 'right' is even a description, let alone the best or accurate one when they all have quite clear memories of the war in differing ways. It's been months and he's no closer to making sense of that than he was from the first time Sylvain called Teach 'she' and mentioned taking up a base in Garreg Mach. Even as someone intent on keeping secrets any which way he can, it doesn't get any easier.
So Claude watches as Sylvain grimaces, assuming it's from the topic as he thinks of several jokes he could make to forget they ever even talked about this while they bury themselves in drinks like nothing's wrong. Gods know it's something he's used plenty himself. But he was the one who asked, and slamming that door shut after nudging it open is hardly fair. ]
I get it. [ Quietly, all cheer forced or actual far from present in those words. ] And more than anything, I wish that neither of us had to understand anything about that. No one should ever have to, and we shouldn't have to worry about it happening again here.
[ There's little to no comfort he can offer from being on the other side any more than being on the brink of it; knowing the end result doesn't make it easier to bear. Claude shifts his gaze back to his drink. The liquid within is at a standstill so he can watch as his reflection warps into something mocking. Something that drags up more that he should say, and for a long moment he sits and weighs whether he trusts Sylvain enough to voice it. In the end, he finds he does. ]
I had a dream the other night. One not about Gronder, it was - I don't know what it was, but since then. [ He stops abruptly. There's only one way this will sound and he's not fond of it, and even with that trust in mind he curls the fingers of one hand under to rest a partially formed fist against the bar. ] Since then I've been seeing everyone's faces everywhere and it feels a lot like that morning did.