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sweetless[He feels like something akin to a stray dog as he follows silently leads Claude through lands that he knows like the back of his scarred hand. A tree etched with children's initials, cloisters of thick trees that hide perfect ambush spots, divots in the ground that caused plenty of stumbles.
He gave up this land, before he even realized what he was doing, really. And everything that went along with it. His title. His name. His expected obligations. He chose to become a sword rather than a shield, even if the family relic still hung off of his back like the last stubborn piece of his old life that he couldn't bring himself to shed. But it wasn't all sentimental. It was simply logical. It was strength. It was power. It was aid in a battle, and what soldier would throw that away just because of some silly sentiment.
Still, it was hard to ignore every emotion that being back here set in him. He didn't regret it. His gaze shifts briefly back towards Claude, the leader he's chosen to follow over the one he was expected to. No. He doesn't regret it he decides as he watches Claude trudge through thick snowfall with that same easy expression that Felix can't read for the life of him. He may not always understand all of Claude's plans, honestly, he may not even know the man very well for all the layers of costumes he wears, but he can appreciate his goal, what he's trying to do, the world he's trying to make.
Though, really, Felix's agenda isn't that noble. As long as the world is in chaos, he has a place in it. He has no idea what he'll do once there's peace. Petty squabbles that aren't worth his skill. He'll grow dull without a challenge. He'll rust and become useless. A fate he'll deal with another day. For now he's got a place at Claude's side. Even if it didn't start that way. Even if it doesn't end that way.
He pauses in his steps a few hundred feet away from where he knows the clearing is and once again turns his attention towards the archer.]
What exactly are we looking for again? You don't really think my-the Fraldarius army is going to fall here, do you?
He gave up this land, before he even realized what he was doing, really. And everything that went along with it. His title. His name. His expected obligations. He chose to become a sword rather than a shield, even if the family relic still hung off of his back like the last stubborn piece of his old life that he couldn't bring himself to shed. But it wasn't all sentimental. It was simply logical. It was strength. It was power. It was aid in a battle, and what soldier would throw that away just because of some silly sentiment.
Still, it was hard to ignore every emotion that being back here set in him. He didn't regret it. His gaze shifts briefly back towards Claude, the leader he's chosen to follow over the one he was expected to. No. He doesn't regret it he decides as he watches Claude trudge through thick snowfall with that same easy expression that Felix can't read for the life of him. He may not always understand all of Claude's plans, honestly, he may not even know the man very well for all the layers of costumes he wears, but he can appreciate his goal, what he's trying to do, the world he's trying to make.
Though, really, Felix's agenda isn't that noble. As long as the world is in chaos, he has a place in it. He has no idea what he'll do once there's peace. Petty squabbles that aren't worth his skill. He'll grow dull without a challenge. He'll rust and become useless. A fate he'll deal with another day. For now he's got a place at Claude's side. Even if it didn't start that way. Even if it doesn't end that way.
He pauses in his steps a few hundred feet away from where he knows the clearing is and once again turns his attention towards the archer.]
What exactly are we looking for again? You don't really think my-the Fraldarius army is going to fall here, do you?
