abraxaslogs | [ OPEN ] split tomorrow from today

Entry tags:

[ OPEN ] split tomorrow from today

Who: Claude and various
When: November + December
Where: Nocwich, Cadens, TBA
What: Catch all for both months
Warnings: None currently, will add/mark as needed

( Open and closed starters in the comments! Also good with prose or brackets and please feel free to wildcard into the open prompts with something else. If you'd prefer plotting first, you can find me at

indech, arboria#1862, or by PM at any time! )

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

The leadership here does certainly seem to suffer from an added layer of 'what can you do for us' rather than the obvious of what a government should do for citizens, that's for sure. At least between all of us, we can make whatever small dent we can in what needs to be done to help where they're not willing.

[ Not enough as what could be done if they had more resources, but Viktor's given him enough to think over throughout their conversation to look into. He inspects the clock briefly, as if he really has any clue about what solution just took place, but when it whirs softly with its usual noises signaling it being in order that's more than good enough for him. At the smile Viktor extends to him Claude offers back a wide one of his own. ]

I'll certainly keep you in mind, and for things to use your expertise far better than clocks alone. Oh, and I should have the funds for the goggles soon with any luck so I'll be by for those then.

[ With a nod to pass as something slightly less informal than how he'd waltzed in earlier - and without bothering to ask if Viktor knows those names and faces - Claude stands to let the inventor get back to his own projects without any further interruptions. ]

[ Given the situation they're in, Thancred is all business for once as he gives a quick shake of his head. This creature isn't one that he's encountered before which means that he takes everything that Claude tells him to heart. Fast, strong, and one of them got the jump on Claude and someone else before. That means that it isn't to be underestimated.

Both of them are remaining calm despite the fact that a predator has them in their sights. This is also nothing new or different for Thancred, who's been in a situation like this more times than he could count. With both of them keeping cool heads, there shouldn't be any mishaps here.

Claude looses the arrow up into the trees and it hits true. Thancred listens closely as the creature starts to fall from its perch up above, hitting a few branches on the way down. That means it must have been more than a glancing shot. Good.

He follows the sounds, moving quickly over the forest floor to anticipate where it might land. Though it doesn't land, that prehensile tail managing to loop around one of the lower branches to break its fall. The creature appears almost directly in front of Thancred, hanging upside-down, yet it still has a sharp anger in its red glowing eyes. It's not dead, only badly injured as its front is covered in silvery blood.

Thancred has to get in close to do more damage. He dodges around its flailing claws and thrusts out with the spear. While he's aiming for its throat, the creature's thrashing around enough that he pierces it in the shoulder instead. It lets out another pained shriek, which seems to echo through the trees. ]

Do you know if they hunt alone?!

[ Or should he be expecting more of them, like when he, Stephen, and Yennefer had found themselves surrounded by those wolves? ]

It's fortunate that they can't somehow meet each other through us somehow what with all these worlds intersecting. And doubly fortunate we can't run into the same situations here.

[ Or - that's not an accurate statement, is it? There's not a formally organized religion here like it sounds is present in both Altaïr's home and Fodlan. Almyra is the closest comparison with a variety of gods though there's still differences. But there is the Singularity, ominous rock formation that it is which apparently holds the key to so many things, and the nations' differing opinions on how it should be treated. All of them at odds with each other and none of them inclined to back down, but with the advantage that no one can approach the Singularity. Except the Summoned, which is no advantage for them at all.

Either way, that's not something Claude wants to dwell on. It'd require the Summoned to be all in one place for something to be done involving them and even with those excursions to Nocwich it seems unlikely. Better to reach over for the bow to show Altaïr a better way to change the string tension and to shoot some more arrows into their cactus friend. ]

[ The sound of a large body falling through the branches has Claude leaning his weight onto the balls of his feet, ready to dodge any which way needed should the creature land ready to strike out at one or both of them. It catches itself in a way he wasn't entirely prepared for and there's a split second where he does nothing but gawk in surprise. That is something new compared to when the last one had been so ready to maul him if only given the opportunity.

Common sense catches him a moment later when Thancred immediately begins striking with the spear; he can ponder the logistics of what all Nocwich's wildlife can do later when, say, his hunting partner isn't at risk of getting an untimely swipe of claws meant to harm. Claude reaches for another arrow and nocks it then waits, trying to make sense of any pattern in the thrashing to know when to release the shot - and avoid hitting Thancred. ]

I don't--

[ Before he can launch into a shortened explanation of the cluster he and Ciri had found themselves in before with too many predators to name after one had drawn another and had its hunt interrupted by their presence, there's an answering shriek somewhere off to their sides. Distant at first and then sounding closer by the end, and Claude has the distinct impression that's because it's approaching.

Whether it's an answered call for help or simply looking to take advantage of their distraction, a second glowing friend leaps through the underbrush towards him. Loathe as he is to take his eyes off Thancred Claude has no choice but to wheel around to dodge, releasing the arrow in what's more of a guess than anything as he spins to put a tree between as a barrier. Not a particularly great one, and his attempted shot flies wide so he quickly grabs yet another arrow to ward off an attack. Maybe if he's lucky he can convince this beast to flee rather than try fighting them. ]

Be there in a second!

Well, there are five of us now to help pitch in, we should be able to find something we can manage. [ How hard could it be? Not that he's ever had to worry about something like this in his life before, being who he was. ]

I can ask Bridgette, too. She's good with money, she might be able to give us some advice, being a native.

[ He collects the last few stingers from the remaining corpses before straightening and looking around, making sure he hasn't missed any. ] Is that all of them? Should we start heading back, or were there other nests out here you wanted to check out?

[ The flicker that crosses Geralt's face suggests he's more than familiar with that. Stories being told, when he has come and gone, passed to villagers who may have never seen a Witcher before in their life. Until he arrives.

He gives Claude the courtesy of a hand up, if he wants it. Not the worst swordplay he's ever seen. (He's seen a lot.) Rusty, to be sure. On the bright side—only up from here. Isn't that what they say?

He tilts his head, acknowledging that. ] Perhaps you'll even have something to teach me.

[ The remark is wry, but there's room for sincerity. Can he use a bow? He can. He doesn't miss, given a second to aim. But he doesn't really bring one into combat; crossbows are more useful for hunting, and for Geralt, practicality comes first. It's rare he puts his hands on a longbow.

So. Maybe his turn to be rusty. ]

[ Of course it wouldn't be so simple. These woods are full of creatures, many of them predators. While some might be smart enough to stay away from an active skirmish, others would naturally be drawn toward the commotion, and that's apparently what's happened here.

Thancred ducks under the swiping claws as he yanks the spear free from the beast's shoulder, drawing another choked noise out of it. At this point it unfurls its tail and somehow lands on all fours (even more agile than a coeurl, this one). It's wounded in two places now and bleeding profusely, but it hasn't given up the ghost just yet. It makes a leap at him, but he's expecting it and dodges out of the way.

He can tell that Claude's dealing with his own mess, but it's still an even fight and so Thancred isn't too concerned yet. ]

That's my line!

[ The problem with archers and other ranged fighters is that when an enemy gets up close, it becomes much more difficult to fend them off. Thancred wants to avoid that outcome, but one thing at a time. He watches as the monster he's been fighting stumbles against one of the trees, more of its blood spilling onto the ground. There's no way that it can keep this up for long. He just needs to get one more good hit in, aimed at a vital region...

It snarls and leaps at him again. This time Thancred is ready for it, waiting for the perfect moment to thrust out with the spear and catch it in the chest. There. ]

Almost finished up over here! [ Though if they've already attracted one extra guest to this party, who's to say there won't be more? ]

We've certainly got the numbers on our side compared to last time I looked, that's for sure.

[ As convenient as the inn's been, there's plenty of Cadens left to explore. Surely between all of them they can find some space that'll work, especially with aid from someone who knows a variety of people. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to ask his merchant employers either since with those connections they'll be well ahead of where he was months ago.

If nothing else, their haul today is a good start, too. ]

Nah, I think we've done enough damage for today. [ There's a pointed glance Sylvain's direction, because - ] To the scorpions, before you get any ideas. Let's head back to town and I'll buy you a drink for your troubles and to offset that sunburn if you're getting one.

[ With a friendly clap on the other man's shoulder, Claude picks up his own haul of bug parts and set off that direction after waiting for Sylvain to fall into step with him. Maybe next time Hilda can provide some other hat options. ]

[ And here she thought she had been clever, putting the master schemer into a corner that he couldn't wiggle from. Claude's sidestepping is a possibility of course, but then again, she doesn’t plan on giving him time to think about his answers. She never said when she had to ask after all. Her confidence, for once, is bolstered by her stubborn nature.

A put on an offended look ripples across her features. ]

Do you really think I’d put you in something that you wouldn’t look good in?

[ She wouldn’t, for the record, but what he looks good in versus what he might be comfortable in are two different things. Hilda loves teasing people (case in point Sylvain), but it was always with good intent. And besides, there's a certain level of pride she takes in ensuring that Claude looked his best.

Hilda counts them down, being honest in not launching before she’s done. Everything in the Horizon so far has felt real, so Hilda has no reason to think that flying will be any different – but she still manages to feel a swoop in her stomach, as Waffenzahn takes flight. Her stomach drops as they leave solid ground and the wind from the beat of wyvern wings whips her hair around her face. A younger her had complained that it messed up her hair, but she had since grown to secretly love it because of what it stood for.

Waffenzahn’s youth shows as he bursts forth alongside Adelheid, craning his neck forward and propelling them from the tower just a little ways ahead of the female wyvern. Hilda leans down against him, clutching the reins and urging him forward, unable to stop the grin from spreading onto her face as they race towards the peaks. ]

[ He'll take the hand in getting up after retrieving his sword from where it fell a quick reach away, then Claude spares a glance down at the dust covering him which ends in a slight grimace. Nothing he can't brush off and nothing unfamiliar from past training sessions, but he'll leave that for now because dust isn't nearly as interesting as what Geralt says.

That has Claude quickly looking up with a grin, anything about swords temporarily forgotten. Sort of. ]

I'd like that. [ Said while collapsing the sword back into its portable form and tucking it away before he casts a thoughtful glance around them. ] For another time, that is. And if you're looking for a change of scenery or somewhere with actual targets, I have a small archery range in the Horizon which works well enough. You can meet my wyvern while we're at it, even though it won't be quite the same experience as meeting an adult one.

[ Unbeknownst to Claude, in the near future the Horizon will have a variety of adult wyverns to either be met for the first time or for the possibility of rides, but for now it's all about the baby wyvern. She's charming enough in his eyes so Geralt will quickly be added to the list of those introductions. ]

Then again, there's probably a cactus we can use out here just as well if you'd prefer that.

[ The mention of something being the other man's line gets a solid laugh from Claude, danger of their current situation aside since it's too good to not. Maybe it's not supposed to be humor in the traditional sense, but considering that it comes while they're both busy not trying to get sideswiped by claws and horns... it feels fitting enough. ]

Don't let me cut your quality time with our new friend short over there!

[ Called back with considerable cheeriness since even as friend #2 prowls towards him in a way which tells him he's absolutely being sized up for a next move, Claude just waits. No need to act hastily; that's the sort of thing which means one ends up in over their head and with less options. He's patient.

Or - mostly patient when it comes to this specific situation. Considering that by standing here in mild suspense means he's left Thancred to deal with that fight on his own, Claude steadies the arrow and lets it fly short of a front paw intentionally. The action seems to startle it, if not outright break its concentration, and that's enough for him to take a second shot lightning quick for this one to go through its throat. A third takes it down in short order, enough that Claude feels confident enough to approach and give it a quick onceover to determine it'll stay down. (It will.)

That leaves checking in on his hunting partner just in time to see the final strike, at which he lets out a low whistle of admiration. Skill like that is always an impressive sight. Now that things are mostly calm in what could be a temporary aftermath, the woods around them feel abnormally quiet. It's not comforting - and just makes Claude think there's plenty of other potential enemies watching this unfold, but he turns most of his attention to surveying what they've hunted. ]

What're the odds we can get both of these hauled back to where someone can put them to good use?

[ There's a look sent Hilda's way quickly which says - yes, he absolutely thinks there's a sliver of a chance she'd put him in something for her own entertainment, and that this reaction is 100% also for the same reason. Of course, it's not like Claude wouldn't wear it simply in the name of amusing them both. No matter what it is Hilda might have in mind, she has a willing participant here in the form of one with a near nonexistent sense of shame to top off any antics.

Now's not that time for that as they get ready to take off. The countdown is something Adelheid can sense even before he leans forward in the saddle as Hilda counts, and he barely even has to give the command to take off before she is already. For a second, a fraction of one, Claude worries it won't feel like the actual sensation of flying. What if it's totally different and if this is the time memory somehow betrays them?

No such thing happens; the air rushes by in the exact same sense of freedom which always washes over him each time of taking flight. And this time it might not be on his wyvern, but this finally fills in a void of something he knew he was missing but not precisely how much until now. It's a good thing Adelheid's taking care of the hard part since Claude's a little too distracted for his own good by taking in the sights around them, until his next glance up reveals they're in second place.

Not by much, but enough for him to finally focus and lean forward in the saddle himself as one giant flap of leathery wings has them pulling even, at which point he can't resist flashing a grin Hilda's direction. ]

Don't think we're not gonna make you work for it, you know!

[ Archery ranges, gun ranges. The Horizon is becoming a veritable training ground. He would not mind it in the Horizon; Geralt prefers the discretion, and they'd only be idling away the hours. Find some familiarity around a seldom-used weapon.

Besides. He is interested in meeting that wyvern. More than the bow, in truth.

He sheathes his sword, returning to Roach to finish saddling up. ]

I'll be by.

[ He hops on his horse. If Claude has more to add, he'll be saying it to a retreating back—Geralt's already riding out, deeming his last words good enough for a parting. ]

[ Even as the wind whistles past her ears, Hilda still manages to catch his words. She’d throw her head back in a laugh if it weren’t for the fact that the pressure of the airflow blowing against her wasn’t preventing her from doing so. ]

But I hate work!

[ Her words are less protest, more joyous laughter. If all work were like this, she wouldn't complain half as much as she does now. This is fun. This feels like freedom.

Apart from her glance towards Claude she doesn’t dare look down as the world falls away from beneath them. Hilda’s heart thrums in her chest in time with the beating of the wyvern’s wings. It’s easy to forget for a moment the point in time she’s come from, like there’s no war at home or looming threat of it in Abraxas and that there isn’t a looming stretch of time between herself and Claude.

She loses herself in that feeling, not noticing that Waffenzahn’s speed has slowed down giving Claude the lead. Determination fills her once again, and Hilda leans further down, pressing herself almost flat against his scales urging him to keep up with the older wyvern ahead of him. ]

[ Ah, so Thancred's found someone who also likes to be irreverent in the middle of a battle. It speaks volumes that Claude is comfortable enough to throw out snappy comments when he's in the midst of being hunted, and yet it turns out to not simply be the foolish move of someone in over their head. He handles his own mark with an impressive swiftness. His ability to draw, nock, and shoot arrows with that sort of speed is a testament to his training and experience.

By the time that Claude joins him, Thancred's bracing his boot against the felled creature's midsection so that he has leverage by which to yank the spear out. The tip of the spear drips with the silvery blood, and the beast lays there, lifeless. ]

That depends. How strong are you?

[ Thancred places the bloodied spear into a makeshift sheath at his back and then crouches down next to the dead monster, eyes scanning over it and assessing. ]

If I had a sense of what parts sold and if I had my knives with me, I could quickly butcher it here, but I think we'd be better off taking the carcasses back with us as they are.

[ So with that, he picks up the dead beast and flings it over his right shoulder like it's a sack of potatoes, seeming to give little care to the fact that he's getting blood all over his clothing in the process. He knew he'd be hunting tonight, and had dressed accordingly. ]

Do you think you can manage the other one?

[ Claude looks fit — and as a skilled archer, his arm strength must be considerable. ]

[ That familiar protest gets nothing but answering laughter from him in return. And then it hits him: it's not only that he's missed flying, but that he's missed this, specifically. This easiness to everything, less of having to feel on guard for what might come next (even if that feeling's solely one of his own creation), Hilda's retorts keeping him on his toes in a different, far more welcome way. In this moment all those things he's withholding feel like they don't weigh so much, feel much farther away than something hanging over them.

If he had the words for it - if mentioning it wouldn't complicate things even more because of how much else is attached to it beyond just being here - Claude might shout them across to Hilda and hope the wind wouldn't carry them away like everything else. Maybe it's enough to have this small bit of relief for now.

Of course, it also helps when Adelheid gives one giant swoop of her wings to advance ever so slightly in front. At first, because when the wyvern realizes she's taken the lead she seems to double down on it to continue their advance as the mountain draws ever closer. The temperature changes slightly and now he has to shiver. Whoever created this snow sure did a great job of making it realistic.

Adelheid must not care for it either, or maybe it's just Claude's dislike of cold coming through even if he doesn't know her feelings on weather, since when they loop around the peak to return Waffle's pulled into first place. Now it's his turn to lean down even if Adelheid's already working to catch up, and the grin he flashes Hilda if she looks over towards him is all too real in its exhilaration. ]

[ There's a second where Claude opens his mouth to respond about strength, how maybe it'd be for the best to team up on that, but then it's too late as Thancred's made his move. Another second goes by in which he can't help but stare in amazement. Not because of the blood - gods know he's been covered in enough varieties of it himself to no longer care - but how easy the other had made that look. He's confident in his own strength, certainly, but there's strength and then there's that level of ease.

Now it's Claude's turn to assess the other animal, because: is he foolish enough to attempt this on his own? Yes. Yes, he is.

Bow secured at his side as best it can be to prevent any damage to a weapon that's not his own, Claude leans down, grabs some paws, and imitates how Thancred had tossed the body over his shoulder like it was nothing. It is, in fact, not quite nothing as it turns out; there's a second where Claude stumbles a step from throwing his own self off balance beneath the weight before recovering as silently as he can. This beast is less weighty than the one prior so fortune's on his side, thanks to that and some tips from Leonie he's unearthing in his mind about hauling back catches from hunting. There, nothing to it. ]

Taking them back whole's probably for the best to make sure we don't accidentally, uh, miss something in them.

[ An organ? Bones? He's not sure but Thancred's right about not risking it. Don't mind him shifting the carcass around his both shoulders to get a better grip on it, but at least it's finally secured so he won't embarrass himself. Maybe. This is a good reminder he should go back to some more strenuous training patterns soon. ]

I've heard the horns and tails have some value for a number of things. With any luck, we'll make someone back at the market rather happy. You prefer knives when it comes to weapons, then?

[ The cold air immediately triggers a shiver down her spine but there's not a single word of protest from her. It's a byproduct, a small burden to bear for a short time as they race past the snowcapped peaks. Her eyes tear away to marvel at the landscape below, momentarily not concerned whatsoever about winning this bet with Claude.

The peaks of Fodlan's Throat had always loomed as the backdrop of her childhood and while she knows that these peaks aren't the same, she can't help but draw comparisons. Hilda didn't enjoy those sorts of rocks; they weren't sparkly and wouldn't look half as lovely set in a design, but she can't help but be filled with a reverence for them now, for their steadfast nature and ability to withstand just about anything and how small she is in comparison.

Her attention whips away, feeling Claude's gaze on her as the peaks begin to grow smaller behind them and Waffle pulls ahead. The chill that still remains seems to fade away with a warmth when she realizes that the expression on his face mirrors the exuberance she feels. It's an unfiltered look at him, the mask that he wears so carefully on his face gone for a moment amongst the clouds, perhaps blown away with the force of the wyvern wings and the wind. She doesn't remember when she last saw something like that on his face and she mentally stores it away as a comforting memory for more difficult times.

She wants to commit all of this so fiercely to memory. With a shout she urges Waffle - and Claude - on. ]

Come on, slow poke!

Did you hear that, Adelheid? Hilda thinks you're slow!

[ Said 'conversation' called out cheerfully and every bit as loudly as needed for Hilda to hear it over the rush of wind and wings in their ears, and with no repentance whatsoever for egging the wyvern on. It works, too; there's an answering screech as if she's now also taunting Waffle by extension.

But that also means it works on Waffle who's still in the lead by a wingspan and then some, and now that it's turned into a proper race beyond just stretching out as if they'd been cooped up in that aerie for days or weeks as they might've been during the war, back in another life, that means it's on. Both wyverns seem to sense the competitiveness of not only their riders but between each other, and there's some bonus trilling back and forth between them as they fly.

Garreg Mach looms closer with each passing second, and for a second Claude almost regrets suggesting this be a race since that means it'll end soon. But then again: that's definitely an almost since this has been well worth it in every possible sense. He's tempted to look down to see if there happens to be anyone out walking through the Horizon or the monastery grounds, especially considering those others who wouldn't have the slightest idea of what's flying overhead beyond maybe a brief glimpse of the two of them around the wyverns' outlines, but can't break that concentration now.

Well, except for calling over to tease Hilda as usual like that'll distract from the fact that he's still losing. ]

Is it too late to change my wager to saying if I win then you have to clean our inn rooms for a whole month? I think that sounds like a better option!

[ Laughter peals from her lips like a clear bell to join the chorus of Waffle and Adelheid's trilling as they streak towards the finish line.

Claude's voice carries across the wind, and Hilda breaks her steady gaze on the aerie for a brief moment to look at him. ]

We already made the wager, Claude! It doesn't work like that. Is answering three little questions that much scarier than cleaning our rooms for a month?

[ And despite that, Hilda would have probably tried a very similar move if she had been the one in the losing position. His attempt to distract her does in fact work though. The brief distraction and glance over her shoulder means that Waffle begins to lose some speed, once again giving up the lead so now they're neck and neck.

The looming maw of the aerie's window gets bigger and bigger. It's only so wide to let through one wyvern in at a time which means that their race has turned into a game of chicken. Hilda steels herself knowing full well that it will be simply a matter of nerve - or concession - between herself and Claude to see who wins. ]

Oh c'mon, why not make it more interesting and change things up at the last minute?

[ The literal last minute, and no comment on whether the questions are scarier than cleaning rooms. Given the choice he'd take the latter any day of the week, but: a promise is a promise and should Fate decide that is his fate? Nothing to do but accept it. That doesn't mean he's not going to have fun with it in the meantime while he can, while the wyverns are still doing their best to overtake one another and changing leads with each flap of their wings bringing that finish line closer and closer. Claude has no intention of surrendering - not even with that mile wide streak of fondness he has for Hilda that factors into so many other situations - but in the end it's Waffle who decides for them both.

With one great push he manages to cut in front of Adelheid enough that she rears back mid-air and leaves Claude reaching for a better grasp on the saddle in a feeling which is also far too lifelike. Their sputter means that Waffle slips ahead and through the aerie window while Claude's still processing what happens, and thankfully Adelheid returns to roost without needing any instructions.

Huh. Maybe he should stop making bets in Abraxas at this rate. ]

Hey, you did great, [ is quickly said to Adelheid when the wyvern seems to slouch in defeat, disappointment, or maybe both, and he quickly reaches to pat her neck reassuringly. ] It just wasn't our day this time around but we'll beat them another time, won't we?

[ Which just leaves looking Hilda's direction now with an intentionally flourishing (and annoying) half bow while still seated in the saddle to concede his loss and assuming Hilda will want to claim that reward right away. ]

Alright, Hilda. You've won your questions fair and square, so what'll they be?

[ Hilda doesn't know where Waffle gets his daring from. It could be that he's still young and plucky, or it could be that he's trying to impress her and fulfill her wish to win this particular bet. Playing chicken and pulling a somewhat risky maneuver definitely wasn't something that they had ever run drills for - but maybe they should be after this. Not that she wants to be flattened like a pancake against the wall of the aerie; if smells and sensations are real, being hurt is probably just as real too. It would really just be for these scenarios.

She lets out a cheer which is closely followed by Waffle's triumphant roar as he skitters into the aerie before quickly making room for Adelheid. Waffle nips playfully at his fellow wyvern, practically preening as Hilda slides off to throw her arms around his neck and press a kiss to him. ]

You did so good - who taught you to do something risky like that? [ Her scold isn't really that and Waffle seems to know it too, something akin to a cheeky look appearing in his eyes. Instead of acknowledging Claude first however, she rushes over to Adelheid to give her a big hug too. ] You too. We'll race the both of you again any time.

[ When she finally turns to face her friend, she taps a finger thoughtfully to her chin. But then, perhaps worryingly for Claude, the telltale look of her having him right where she wants him glimmers in her eyes. ]

I'm going to save them for another time. All that racing made me thirsty - what do you say to some tea?

[ Admiration for Waffle's move - admittedly a good one, even if it means he's lost - is on the tip of his tongue, but it's wiped away when Hilda turns that look on him. Oh no. He knows exactly what that look means, and the smile on his own face shifts to wariness in nearly the exact same moment. ]

You're really just gonna leave those questions hanging over me? That's just cruel!

[ Whining for the sake of being dramatic aside: Claude would absolutely do the same thing if the tables were turned. It's more fun that way to leave suspense in there, isn't it? That's his logic anyway, but it's not going to stop him from heaving a deeply weighted sigh now that it's been turned on him. As if he didn't agree to this. (As if he wouldn't do whatever Hilda asked, anyway.) ]

I see how it is. C'mon then, time for you to have some victory tea and for me to drown my sorrows in it.

[ That's too much seriousness to keep up for too long without grinning, which is exactly what he does while slinging an arm around Hilda's shoulders as they wander off in search of that tea. Maybe at Teach's old favorite gazebo, just for old times' sake. ]

[ Thancred's build used to be more lithe, suited to agile and silent movements, but he's certainly bulked up ever since he went down the path of gunbreaker. If he wants to protect his fellow Scions, he needs to be certain he has the strength to do so. Especially given that manipulating aether is no longer possible for him, he'd felt the need to make up for it in other areas.

On top of that, he has enough survival skills that he's carried carcasses like this before. It was even a part of his training, way back when. He isn't surprised to see Claude struggle with it a bit more — this isn't something most people are used to doing, after all — but he does manage in the end. Draping the dead weight over both of his shoulders is certainly the best call. ]

The walk back isn't too long. [ He shoots Claude a cheeky grin. ] I have faith you'll manage. And with any luck, we'll learn what the most important bits are for next time.

[ With that, he sets off back the way they came, making certain to manage his pace so that he doesn't accidentally leave Claude behind. At that question he glances over his shoulder and nods. ]

Aye, I originally trained to use knives. These days my weapon of choice is a gunblade, though it seems like most everyone here has no idea what that is.

A gunblade? That happen to be anything like a gun?

[ The grin his direction had been met with one of his own right back, familiar as he is with that move, and - honestly - it's been rather nice to meet someone who seems to be as laidback as he is while simultaneously taking something seriously. Since there was, after all, the ever present chance of death out here in the woods, but Claude has a feeling both of them share staring it down and shrugging in common.

Makes dragging this animal long with him back to their starting point a lot better, really. Whatever pace Thancred sets, he'll keep up with as they go. ]

Not that I have much experience with them since guns were only something I learned about after coming here from people who know how to use them. Fascinating stuff. [ One more shift of the weight around his shoulders. ] Can't say I prefer them over archery though now that I've perfected that skill since it seems like a whole other level of practice goes into them.

[ Which: none of this is anything Thancred's confirmed while Claude's continued rambling on as he tends to do, so maybe best to give that a rest. In a minute, because first: ]

Knives were something I trained in once, though. Seemed like it couldn't hurt to have one more weapon up my sleeve - in this case, metaphorically and literally - and came in handy a few times.

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[ OPEN ] split tomorrow from today

we can wrap here if that works!

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want to start wrapping this?

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it's a wrap!

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wrapping!

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i rolled dice for this one IT'S CLAUDE DESTRUCTION TIME

SORRY CLAUDE THE DICE SAID WHAT THEY SAID!

THEY SURE DID and it's a wrap!

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