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sweetless[It's hard to believe that it's been five years since everything fell apart, sometimes the time feels like it's floated by like some kind of bad dream, and other times it feels like it's dragged, like every day was longer than the last, bloodier, harder.
They approach the anniversary of a promise made in an entirely different world, and there's no guarantee anyone will be around to honor it. Their professor disappeared, no word of them since that fateful day at Garreg Mach. Their king may very well be dead. That's what they've all been told. That's what they've all been lead to believe. But there's doubt around the fact that there's no body. And maybe it's stupid and childish to cling to that doubt, but he knows he's not the only one. That as he, Sylvain, and Ingrid make the trek from the battle-weary roads of Faerghus towards a broken monastery, they're all holding out this desperate hope that Dimitri will be there. Maybe they've all been clinging to this day, like some dues ex machina that will shift the losing tides they can all feel lapping at their feet.
It's a possibility that hangs heavy on his shoulders, and the conversation is shallow at best, like they're all scared to speak of the fate that awaits them once they've passed this moment. It makes him almost grateful for Sylvain's suggestion that they leave early, that they get a few rooms at an inn close to the remains of their academy the night before they're supposed to meet whatever is left of the Blue Lions House. He's tired when they finally arrive, and they all make a beeline to their respective rooms with the promise to meet Sylvain later for dinner.
Dinner comes and passes and Ingrid, having eaten more than her fair share, excuses herself to sleep off her meat coma and that leaves him alone with Sylvain. It's not the first time he's seen Sylvain in the past five years, of course, but most visits are harried, one or the other being called out to fight to keep their lands from Edelgard's forces. Their conversations heavily leaning towards battles, strategies, supplies. There's been little need for anything else.
Or...maybe that's where he's wrong. Maybe he's missed their more casual conversations during their academy days. Where they could eat a meal with nothing more important to talk about than Sylvain's lackadaisical stance towards training, or the occasional, usually Sylvain prompted, childhood story. Maybe that's partially the cause of the empty feeling in his chest. Sylvain wasn't lost, not like Byleth, not like Dimitri, but that distance they had slowly chipped away at during their time at the academy felt as if it had widened again.
He should call it a night. Goddess knew what awaited them the next day, but here he was, sitting with his arms folded over his chest across from Sylvain, waiting for their waitress to bring them the first of who knew how many rounds of drinks.]
One drink. I have no interest in staying around until you get into some stupid drunken antic.
[A lie. They probably both know it. But it cuts the silence.]
They approach the anniversary of a promise made in an entirely different world, and there's no guarantee anyone will be around to honor it. Their professor disappeared, no word of them since that fateful day at Garreg Mach. Their king may very well be dead. That's what they've all been told. That's what they've all been lead to believe. But there's doubt around the fact that there's no body. And maybe it's stupid and childish to cling to that doubt, but he knows he's not the only one. That as he, Sylvain, and Ingrid make the trek from the battle-weary roads of Faerghus towards a broken monastery, they're all holding out this desperate hope that Dimitri will be there. Maybe they've all been clinging to this day, like some dues ex machina that will shift the losing tides they can all feel lapping at their feet.
It's a possibility that hangs heavy on his shoulders, and the conversation is shallow at best, like they're all scared to speak of the fate that awaits them once they've passed this moment. It makes him almost grateful for Sylvain's suggestion that they leave early, that they get a few rooms at an inn close to the remains of their academy the night before they're supposed to meet whatever is left of the Blue Lions House. He's tired when they finally arrive, and they all make a beeline to their respective rooms with the promise to meet Sylvain later for dinner.
Dinner comes and passes and Ingrid, having eaten more than her fair share, excuses herself to sleep off her meat coma and that leaves him alone with Sylvain. It's not the first time he's seen Sylvain in the past five years, of course, but most visits are harried, one or the other being called out to fight to keep their lands from Edelgard's forces. Their conversations heavily leaning towards battles, strategies, supplies. There's been little need for anything else.
Or...maybe that's where he's wrong. Maybe he's missed their more casual conversations during their academy days. Where they could eat a meal with nothing more important to talk about than Sylvain's lackadaisical stance towards training, or the occasional, usually Sylvain prompted, childhood story. Maybe that's partially the cause of the empty feeling in his chest. Sylvain wasn't lost, not like Byleth, not like Dimitri, but that distance they had slowly chipped away at during their time at the academy felt as if it had widened again.
He should call it a night. Goddess knew what awaited them the next day, but here he was, sitting with his arms folded over his chest across from Sylvain, waiting for their waitress to bring them the first of who knew how many rounds of drinks.]
One drink. I have no interest in staying around until you get into some stupid drunken antic.
[A lie. They probably both know it. But it cuts the silence.]
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Date: 2019-12-04 11:18 pm (UTC)Standards. [Snort.] I doubt you've had time to grow any of those.
[Case in point, the waitress and the almost habitual way Sylvain flirts with her. It gets an annoyed roll of his eyes. But even he can't take it to heart. He knows what it's like to run on auto-pilot. And he knows Sylvain means nothing by it. The words are there, the charm that usually follows is missing.
It used to bother him, so much, every time Sylvain would invite him out only to add the caveat of skirt-chasing to the end of it. It all seems so trivial now. Whatever small portion of interest he had in such things has long been snuffed out by the heaviness of war. Or maybe he's just had more opportunities to pretend it doesn't exist.
Still, his finger taps irritably on his glass all the same before he lifts it to his lips and takes a drink.]
It might be wise to hold the rooms for another night.
[In case there's nowhere to stay. The monastery had never been rebuilt, after all. In case there's nobody there. Promises have always had a certain weight with him and Sylvain, but even they have to give some leniency to the dead.]
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Date: 2019-12-06 04:20 am (UTC)And if he's honest with himself for a moment (he can be honest with himself, even if he wouldn't admit as much to the others), being the upbeat one is exhausting sometimes. Now, especially. There hasn't been much to be happy about in the last five years.
Maybe Ashe or Annette will have made it to Garreg Mach after all and he can let somebody else go on sunshine duty for a while. ]
You're probably right. I'll talk to the innkeeper when we head back up.
[ He takes a long pull of his drink, and regrets not making the joke when he had the chance, because now the silence is uncomfortable again and he's not sure how best to break it. Getting snapped at by Felix for his lack of gravity would, at least, be something. ]
So. Bets on who grew up better looking among the ladies in our class? Annette always seemed to me like being cute was just hiding her potential to be gorgeous, but Mercedes sets the bar pretty high to start with...
[ An attempt was made. He's fully expecting Felix to turn this bus around and drive the conversation back to...well, something other than women. ]
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Date: 2019-12-06 02:37 pm (UTC)The silence settles again and while it's uncomfortable, it's much better than the words Sylvain decides to speak to break it up. His lips instantly turn into a disapproving frown mid-drink even, and he sets his glass down a little harsher than necessary, or even intentionally.
Of course, his full intention is to chastise Sylvain for that kind of attitude, but in his mind he answers that question anyway. Clearly, it'll be Annette. Mostly because Mercedes had slotted him into the role of 'little brother' and that makes even thinking about her in terms of attractiveness just wrong. And because he's always had a soft spot for Annette. Obviously, he has a bit of a type. But a glare shot Sylvain's way and he decides that tidbit is far better left unspoken.]
I'm sure everyone has done some growing. Aside from you. [And despite himself his lips twist up in a slight teasing curve.] Always a good-for-nothing, after all.
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Date: 2019-12-09 12:40 am (UTC)So he just grins and raises his glass. ]
I've never denied it.
[ Even if these days, his reputation hasn't been doing much to fulfill its intended purpose: keeping people from having expectations of him. With the war still raging, he can't help but deliver on his own potential. He'd hate himself for doing anything less.
...if they all live through this, he's probably going to be stuck with a new reputation, namely people actually knowing that he's competent even if he acts like a worthless asshole. Farewell, sweet youth. It was fun while it lasted. ]
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Date: 2019-12-09 07:30 pm (UTC)[The words come out smoothly, sharply, and he lets the rest that wants to follow drown on an intake of liquor.
Their time together has certainly taken a toll during the near constant battles they're fighting, but in the chances he does get to observe Sylvain, he's only emphasized what Felix has always known about him. He's always dependable.
Even if he's nearly reckless in battle, he protects his allies. It's infuriating. But, since he's still very much alive, there's no much of an argument Felix can make.
Maybe it doesn't take much alcohol to loosen his tongue (and that's true enough), or maybe it's just it's too heavy already with unspoken words, that something needs to spill out, but with a sigh, he sets his drink down and pins Sylvain with a look.]
Do you think he'll be there?
[No answer is going to make him feel better. But it's out there now, and...well, might as well listen.]
sorry for the radio silence...moving is a pain and comcast are dicks, what else is new.
Date: 2019-12-18 04:32 am (UTC)He will.
[ Sylvain can't honestly tell who he's trying to convince here, really. But they need to believe in something to keep going, and Dimitri's survival is something he can at least come up with supporting arguments for. ]
All we've got is the Empire's word. If they had any better proof that he's dead, they'd be parading it across Fódlan. They won't. Because they can't. Because he's out there, and he wouldn't miss this.
[ For all of the obvious strategic reasons - a chance to reconnect with allies, gather resistance, and finally strike back - but more importantly than that, because they're friends. No matter what Felix might say, no matter whether Dimitri's behavior since the incident at the Holy Tomb had been increasingly erratic. Their shared past is stronger than all of that.
At least, Sylvain believes it. If that's the only something he's got to believe in, he'll hang onto it until his last breath. ]
that sucks. Hope the difficult part is behind you now!
Date: 2019-12-18 05:03 pm (UTC)But then, that seems to be his way with any relationship. Like with Sylvain. Because right now there's a part of him that wants to reach across the table and hug Sylvain for fanning that little ember of hope in his chest that he hadn't the heart to extinguish. He doesn't, and while the urge is shoved down, he can't hide the relief that softens his facial features.]
You're a fool. [A soft, almost affectionate, murmur.] But I suppose I must be one as well. ...Thanks, Sylvain.
it's starting to look more like a house and less like a breeding ground for cardboard boxes...!
Date: 2019-12-24 07:40 pm (UTC)So he lets it pass without comment, although it's certainly to blame for how much less forced his own smile feels right now. ]
Someone has to be. I can't see you or Ingrid taking on that job full time.
[ Every now and then, though, it's nice to see either of them manage it. It's a heavier weight than people realize to drag around alone all the time. ]