i'm reaching for the clouds

[godshattering]

Who: Claude and various
When: January + early February (pre-event)
Where: The Horizon, Aquila, TBA
What: Catch all
Warnings: None currently, will add/mark as needed


( Closed starters in the comments below. Feel free to find me at indech, arboria#1862, or by PM at any time to plot something! )

Comments

[godshattering]

[ Her lack of eye contact isn't comforting.

There is something off kilter, but where to start in narrowing it down? Is that even possible when there's so much it could be? Claude isn't often one to worry, but this request plus her hesitance around asking at all when it used to be something they never thought twice about no matter what anyone around the monastery said feels like it could be anything at all. It had been so easy to let down walls to let Hilda in, more so than he could've ever guessed, and to the point where he hadn't noticed her persistence gradually eroding them away. To where her complaints about the volume of books, quills, and papers stashed in his bed at any given time had dwindled, just in case, and he'd thought about that more than once since arriving where he'd piled them up to fill a missing void once more.

I just wanted to be sure. That stings more than anything else ever could, he thinks. But with Hilda not looking back at him in the mirror - Claude shrugs a shoulder and pastes on a smile as he gets back to braiding, just in case she does look up. Never say he's not ready to pretend something is fine even if it doesn't seem to be. ]

Well, if Sylvain's the problem, we could always just kick him out of the room. I haven't a feeling he wouldn't stand much of a chance against us when it'd be two against one, and when he hasn't seen you at your most persuasive.

[ One strand of the plait over the other as he keeps his gaze on them despite the light tone he's forcing enough to be natural, adjusting it here and there and reaching to take the top braid from her hand when it's time. And, in a ploy to get her to smile or sound more like herself for scolding him with what's a blatantly apparent attempt at teasing her, and with a decidedly wide smirk - ]

Or he'll vacate the room when he hears how loudly you snore when you're out cold, and then it won't be a problem anyway. Maybe I should've had you nap in there sooner whenever I was looking for some peace and quiet.

[theidlemaiden]

[ Fortunately for Claude she does look up just at the moment that he shrugs. Hilda knew so much about Claude; each of his looks, his laughs, the way he sidestepped and danced around truths (some would call it lying, but Hilda called it Claude playing hard to get unless he was being prescriptive about it). It's how she knows that that particular shrug isn't directed at her question and there's no dismissive quality to it. This is him trying to lighten the gloomy mood that had been brought on by her. There's suddenly a strange duality of guilt clawing at her chest at the same time that a hint of gratefulness sparks overcomes her for him falling back onto what they knew.

She chides herself for being so silly, for letting herself fall down the slippery slope of bad things. How selfish of her to ruin the precursor to a date that, even though it was just a date born from a bet, still might mean something to both of the men going on it. Claude's goad, however gentle and completely untrue as far as she's concerned, lands because she lets it land. He's lucky that the plait is starting to look good from the font and she doesn't want to risk whirling around to punch him in the gut or tug at his cheek in retaliation. Instead she settles for a well practiced gasp. ]

I do not snore! [ The act continues with a firm crossing of her arms because she thinks, if she can continue to fake it like this then she'll eventually be okay. That's how that worked, right? There's no heat to her protests, just the usual air of, "How dare you insinuate that I'm not a delicate flower." ] I think you're just mistaking my snoring for your snoring. And don't get me started on the drool, Claude.

[godshattering]

[ He doesn't have long to wait for her response. As soon as there's a gasp Claude has to put more effort into restraining a smile than he would around anyone else where it wouldn't be so easy to show his thoughts if he was around anyone but Hilda. Her outrage is just as familiar - and he's well aware of the only reason he's spared a smack to go along with it - but by the end, he's shaking his head slowly as if they're addressing some deeply heavy topic.

This time when he stops, it's with great seriousness that Claude shifts the almost finished braid to one hand in order to let his now free one on Hilda's shoulder gravely as if he's bracing her for something for which she'll need support. ]

I regret to inform you, Hilda, that the drooling is all yours and I can no longer take the fall for it. [ There's a slightly too formal note to his tone, as if he's pulled out his duke voice just for this and like it's some kind of ruling edict rather than mirth tugging at all the corners of his face. ] It's been a good few years of blame, but now it's time for you to take it. I have plenty of pillowcases over the years to prove it, you know.

[ Something about the thought of somehow also summoning his supposed evidence is enough for Claude to grin cheekily at her in the mirror as he pulls his hand away and completes the braid, tying it off with the ribbons she'd pulled out of her hair earlier and then spending a second to tidy up his handiwork before putting both hands on the back of her chair so she can investigate it herself. ]

But on the bright side, you're the most stylish combination snorer-drooler in Aquila by a long shot.

[theidlemaiden]

[ Apparently it doesn't take her long to actually become a little offended at what he says. Her eyes narrow when he places a hand on her shoulder because she has a distinct feeling that she knows where this is going. It doesn't take her long to confirm that yes, it went exactly where she thought it would go. Her mouth falls open in a perfect little 'o' and the outrage waiting for Claude is imminent spurred by his mirth and mere moments away from him tying off her braid.

But if they were being honest, she does drool but only when she's really, really tired! The snoring is however is all Claude's doing, she's certain of it even though she's usually the one who sleeps far more between the two. She channels her outrage into the most fierce pout as she turns from side to side to examine Claude's handiwork. The examining is more principle than anything. She has no doubt that it's probably flawless — she had schooled him for many months until it was to her liking — although he already had some level of how to do it before she had met him.

It's hard not to admire his deft hands and the way her hair weaves in and out of itself. If she didn't know any better, she could have very well braided it herself. It's almost enough to make her forgive him for airing out her dirty secret to a room of just them. Almost.

Quick as a flash she climbs up onto the chair, standing up on her knees. She gives him a smile so saturated and sweet that he'll know something is coming immediately and she hopes it put the fear into him. ]

Amazing work as always. [ She reaches out her hands, grabbing a hold of both of his cheeks and stretching them out, emphasizing each word. ] How did I get so lucky to have the loudest snorer in Aquila braiding my hair?

[godshattering]

[ Hilda's investigation of the braid in all its finished glory is enough to make the smile on his face widen a bit more. For a second it's easy to believe things are normal, or close to it; if he doesn't look away from the mirror then maybe they're really in Garreg Mach after all. But of course they aren't because she abruptly turns, he's reminded about the corset digging into his side when he takes a half step back on instinct.

For all his quick reflexes, Claude's not fast enough to dodge Hilda's hands on his face. He also makes the mistake of grimacing which likely makes it all the easier for her to grab on and tug just like he knows she's going to even as he's already reaching to lightly swat the backs of her hands like it'll change his fate. ]

Hey, leave my roguishly beautiful face in one piece, will you? I'm kind of attached to it. Also, I definitely need it to keep charming everyone I meet.

[ As usual, his protests are more for the sake of it than any active distress which might also be clear from the fact that there's no small amount of amusement in his nonexistent attempts to escape Hilda's (literal) clutches. Still, he's also going to sigh heavily as though this is deeply troublesome to him and her stretching of his face isn't also conveniently hiding his smirk. ]

Way to add salt to my wounds by pretending like you braided your own hair with that comment about your snoring title! Might I remind you I'm wearing a dress and now you're just adding to my unending torment?

[theidlemaiden]

Oh, Claude. You’re lucky that you’re such a charmer too and that I like you.

[ She continues to pull and stretch his face like it’s dough, a genuine laugh beginning to form in the back of her throat and at the corner of her eyes. For all her boisterous claims that anyone would be lucky to have a friend like her, Hilda can’t help but feel deep down that she’s the one that’s lucky to have him. Very few would willingly put themselves through this or put up with her and her princess tendencies. It’s better to just accept it because thinking about it sends her down a spiral of anxiety.

The prickle at the back of her eyes signal that tears are going to show soon if she doesn’t stop thinking about how moments like these were so important to her. Crying over sentimental things had never been a common occurrence before the war, but she supposed that this was just another way it was changing her. She isn’t entirely sure she likes it. The thought is enough to make her stop, telling herself that it’s because she doesn’t want to make his cheeks too red and her hands are cramping anyway. It’s not the thought of dying and never being able to spend time with him like this again and it definitely doesn’t have anything to do with crying and potentially ruining his date. It would never be either of those things. ]

Here I am trying to pay you a compliment and you’re just going on complaining! [ She lets out a sigh, throwing her hands up to the side in a very similar way that he does. ] I’ll let it slide this time because I don’t want to be the reason you’re late for your date. [ True to her word, she smoothly hops off the chair and brushes her own dress before doing some last minute checks on Claude’s dress as if her pulling his face had somehow effected the clothing. ]

You’ll tell me all about it later, won’t you? [ Her fingers fiddle listlessly at the bustle for the sake of looking busy. Her voice is nothing but light and conversational too in an effort to not go back down the slippery slope she had just been tugged back from. ] Also, I can make myself scarce tonight if you’d rather. I don’t have to sleep in your bed starting tonight.

[ The nightmares aren’t consistent anyway. ]

it's a wrap!

[godshattering]

I'm complaining because you're trying to rearrange my face!

[ Not a real complaint; also, not even remotely possible to do - he's pretty sure - but for good measure that's not going to stop Claude from bringing both hands up to his face after he lets go to pat it tentatively with his fingertips as if he's expecting things to have actually moved. Obviously they haven't, so he drops his shoulders in exaggerated relief. ]

Well, it seems to all still be in place so I suppose I have no choice but to continue liking you, too. I was worried there for a minute.

[ It goes without saying he was no such thing, but. He'd caught that expression flickering across Hilda's face again, another one that seems like it might align with from earlier. Or maybe it's something that needs to be layered over it for a clearer picture, a way to bring it all into focus, like a stack of stained glass fragments forming a different view than when laid out separately. Something Claude's no stranger to himself in operating the same way, and as Hilda smooths out his dress for him when he was about to do that next he watches her carefully beneath the too easy smile on his face.

All the better to catch her hands in his when she lets got of the bustle and possibly starts to step away to keep her there. ]

I will. But whether it's tonight or not, Hilda, I meant what I said. You don't have to ask to join me. Show up whenever you need to, and I'll be there for you.

[ There's more he could say - likely should say - but Hilda's probably right about not running late when he'd had the idea to show up to the restaurant in question first. So with one last squeeze of her hands he lets go to tackle pulling on those very high boots much different than his usual ones or his greaves from another life to round out the outfit, and then he's off with one last wink over his shoulder Hilda's direction as he walks out the door. ]