[Byleth's still not quite used to intentionally reaching out via Communion, having only really accepted Communion requests thus far. But not long after the debate had ended regarding Manon and what their approach should be, Byleth gave Claude the mental equivalent of a very tentative 'hey, you busy?' poke.]
[Claude's not so much busy as distracted by being deep in thought, so there's a slight delay before he realises he's being nudged at all, which catches him off guard. What surprises him even more is who is doing the nudging.]
[ despite the fact that it’s only dextera’s voice, there’s the hurried impression that he ran to wherever he is now in order to commune with him. considering claude was the one who proposed matters with manon, he should be the first to know. ]
[ A lot has been bugging him about their time spent down in Aetós' zoo, but nothing more than seeing Adelfoúla get murdered right in front of them, and him being helpless to do anything about it. Amos doesn't give a shit what anyone else says or insinuates; that was a child he watched die, and that shit's unacceptable.
And in the immediate chaos afterwards, two of them had rushed up to see if there was anything they could to do help — him, and someone else he already had found a growing respect for.
So after. After they're all out of there, after he's had a night to sleep on it, turn over every little detail in his head, he reaches out to Claude.
And, without preamble: ] She's alive. The girl. I don't know how, but...
[ Amos' voice trails off before giving up and simply transmitting the memory of what he saw and experienced to Claude, to the best of his recollection:
While the room is small, there’s what amounts to a closet where they’ll find various (macabre) equipment like syringes, bonesaws, etc., but also… Adelfoúla, or what seems to be an exact copy of her. She doesn’t move or react to them opening the door in the slightest, but examining the area where she had “broken” earlier will reveal a tiny fragment of what looks like a shard. It’s far from the size one would have come to expect from shards, and almost seems to have been cleaved from a larger stone. There’s a slight glimmer to the shard that he could recognize as being “alive”, essentially, but that her consciousness just didn’t seem to be present.
And upon attempting to commune with her, Adelfoula’s voice responding with a feeling of being distinctly surprised and a “You found one?” but no more than that.
It just.
Really seemed like something Claude should know. ]
[Even if Vander's rescue was ultimately a success, Claude is still troubled from the events leading up to it. To some extent, he blames himself: Adelfoúla had been a hostage of sorts, when he, Misa and Set had taken her in, but it had also lead to the odd situation of them being roommates for a week. She was a strange girl, but she wasn't just an automaton. She liked picture books, she feared pain, she had even cleaned his mess of an apartment without being asked.
And Claude had repaid her by, seemingly, letting her go to her death. He hadn't anticipated Aetós' cruelty, but perhaps he should have. So when Amos's communion nudges at the corner of his mind, he's surprised.]
She is? Did you take that piece of her shard with you...?
[He's surprised, but grateful, too, that Amos had cared enough to even look. They'd already established they shared some common ground, but this seemed to be confirmation.]
[This time, Byleth is a lot more confident in reaching out in Communion with someone he's comfortable with, so whereas his first invitation had been a very tentative poke, this one was more like a knock on the figurative door.]
[ Sometime in the second half of Pelu (pre-event), Claude will probably trip over something waiting outside of his door one morning. The box is not marked, and there is no indication of the sender, but inside is a folky picture oop-up book - one possessing no words - that tells the tale of a deer that makes friends with a mouse in the woods and details their unlikely adventures. They frolic through beautiful watercolor trees and fields, and it ends with the two of them turning into spirits to dance in the grassy knolls into eternity. ]
communion; during pt 2 of the seeds of unrest event
[ It eats at him, for a time. Cybernetics, ceramics, magic nullification, animal husbandry, Egyptian mythology. Cybernetics, ceramics, Egyptian mythology. Cyberneticsceramicsegyptianmythology. He had voiced his concern to Byleth, in the moment - questioning Aetós's interest in his divine kin and kind. What could he be plotting to do? And then, because he is not foolish, he begins to wonder: what has he already done?
So, it is to Claude he goes. The sense of him on the approach within their Communal space like a most indelicate thundercloud, sleek and dark and crisp. He pummels at the edge of Claude's consciousness, demanding attention an audience. If ( when ) granted, he leads with no formalities, only a demand in the form of a question: ] What happened to Adelfoúla, after she led you to Vander? Where did she go?
[Communion with Claude is more like a warm breeze; light, insubstantial, just as easy to brush away as a wave of the hand. He deliberately tends to make himself as inviting as possible even to a presence like Set's, but underneath that is the kind of muted restraint of someone who does not want to share very much of his stray thoughts or feelings in this shared space, and by now he has more than enough practice at it.]
Hello to you too. [He responds drily. Maybe gods think themselves above such courtesies, but no matter. Set's question interests him more than nitpicking.] Aetós destroyed her -- or at least, that body he had put her in. Why do you ask?
[A part of him thought, it's not really my business, but on the other hand, Claude had promised to talk to him later, and it was now 'later'. So, emboldened by this bit of internal logic, Byleth gently prodded Claude via Communion after returning to his home in Springstar, pottering about his home and doing some chores as he did so.]
[Claude's feeling a little wiped after all these big group Communions, and while they're largely things he's used to, the fact that they're mental conversations rather than in-person always seems to be more draining. So he's decided to head out for some respite to take his wyvern on her daily exercises, but he doesn't turn Byleth away when he realises who's nudging him via Communion.]
[Hayame had been at the discussion between the so-called “ambassadors”. She had not been allowed to speak (even though she had plenty to say, even though she is dead confident she could have done more, done better), but she had been there.
Watching. Growing angrier and more frustrated by the minute. And when it ends…
She has the good graces to allow him a ten minute breather before,]
Congratulations on your success, Claude von Riegan.
[Funny, because she really doesn’t sound like she’s congratulating him…]
[Claude had been braced for this even going into discussions, and now, inviting Hayame's displeasure had become a lot more fraught than it used to be. But he had already decided well before now that he wouldn't let personal feelings get in the way of what he felt needed to be done -- or, where it was unavoidable the two of them would clash, they could at least talk honestly about it.
So he decides to sidestep his usual tendency to dodge and obfuscate, deciding to jump straight to the point.]
Thanks, but you don't need to congratulate me if you don't mean it.
[Byleth didn't gently tap Claude via Communion so much as he drunkenly slammed against the door before knocking it. Somehow, he was still composed as ever despite clearly being under the influence, but there was an air of something about him, something almost restless.]
Claude, are you busy? I have... a social question.
[Claude is mercifully sober tonight -- maybe moderating his intake after the ridiculous escapade scaling the hotel -- so he's a little startled by a drunken Byleth slamming his way into his communion space. Jeralt would be proud of you, kid...]
I've always got time for you, Byleth. What's up?
['Social question' could really mean anything, so he'll brace for the unexpected.]
[Weeks after the Exalt Oracle had been claimed, in the middle of a perfect, lovely day, one in which it might seem nothing could go wrong at all... Hayame is screaming.
With no warning, no build, the equivalent of a sudden desperate, panicked pounding at the door, an attempt at Communion comes slamming into Claude's psyche. There are no words, no plea for help in anything but a jumbled, inarticulate, weak longing for it, (she can't, she can't, he'll die), but stronger is the vicious shame, the fear, the rage, rage brighter than a blazing sun ready to flare.
There's a scalpel glinting in the light, a pain deep in the skull spreading, spreading, something that should never be touched flayed raw and pulled out, on fire at every ending. An eye, sickly green, dangles between gloved fingers, but then it is a stormy grey eye, dangling by the slick and severed optic nerve between bloody fingers in the rubble of a city under siege with a beast in the sky. Claude's face, so close, his smile soft, his thumb tracing gently over her cheek below the hole where an eye used to be. There are sharp teeth smiling sadistically, the shadowy silhouette blurred by something hot and wet and a backing of bright lighting. She bites, iron flooding her mouth and pouring down her throat, but before she can choke on her own blood fingers grab her tongue, something hard and thick is forced into her mouth. Her dun flanks rise and fall slowly, Claude curled against her and moving ever so slightly along with her breathing. Ropes, straps, no matter how much she struggles she can't move, she can't fight, no, no, no, she doesn't want it, she doesn't want it and it doesn't matter, it hurts, it hurts, she wants to go home෴
At first he can't react to the intrusion of his psyche with anything more than shock, followed by fear, concern, revulsion. What were they doing to her? Was it that demon again? What was he doing to her? Even without her being able to answer the images are enough, sickeningly blending in with her memories of... himself. Them, together, in their closest moments. He desperately reaches back, tries to tell her to hold on, he's coming, that he'll find her and--
She's gone.
Yet he won't give up. So long as he can maintain it, he'll keep trying to keep his mind open to hers, to desperately try to reach her as if even a glimpse of contact might offer him some clue as to where to find her.]
[ Very suddenly, there’s a sense of Communion touching your character’s mind. However, it’s as if they connect with the mind of a shared Aspect, as they’re not able to block out the brief, but sharp memory that comes to them. ]
A Zenith Shard-Bearer holds another Shard in their hands, and it’s with an overwhelming feeling of loathing. They always thought of themselves as an honorable warrior, but it would be so easy to destroy this Meri…
[ ooc note — Just to avoid OOC confusion/misinterpretation, the details included in this memory are random and are not necessarily interconnected or plot meaningful beyond a surface level. However, your character is free to interpret this random memory however they’d like! This event will also be touched on somewhat during today’s NPC Communion Post. ]
[ Claude receives a small parcel; inside are some baked goods and sweets, a small, portable chess set, and a bottle of fancy wine There's also a note: ]
Claude, I hope this note finds you well. And although I must apologize for having only discovered this via the newspapers, please allow me to extend my congratulations to you and Hayame on your relationship. Please share the bottle of wine with her, with my best wishes and my hope for your happiness together in the future.
[On the first day of the new year by the Kenosian calendar, Hayame wakes up early enough to watch the dawn break over the treeline in Alenroux. The first dawn is supposed to be important. She stays in bed longer than usual, her cheek pillowed on her partner's chest. Before his morning meditation, she asks Claude if he saw any dreams that night. That was another superstition from her world- that the first dream would have some sort of meaning. ... She did not remember anything in particular from hers, but. In the talk of new year traditions, she mentions that is customary to gift new clothing, but gives no indication of actually following the custom.
But when he returns to their home later that night after their various duties and work... On the bed is a neatly wrapped package with Claude's name on it written in painstakingly copied, slightly shaky letters. Inside is a neatly folded outfit (sans silly cape part, and with a more symmetrical, haori-like top). It had been difficult to find clothing exactly like her world's, but... It was close enough.
... And she thinks he would look good in it. So!!!]
[Claude is surprised to see the package left for him -- and yet in other ways, unsurprised. Hayame had proven already to be a stickler for traditions, and someone who liked to show gestures of thoughtfulness and generosity, even if she might disguise it in claims it was an act of simple obligation.
So he tries on the outfit, finding it loose and comfortable in fit, with the sash allowing him to adjust it perfectly to his size. Hayame isn't around to advise if he's putting it on properly, but most of it is familiar enough that he thinks he can't be far off the mark. Did human men in her world often dress this way in her world, or was this something more unique that she chose for him based on his own tastes...? He can't help but wonder.
He's turning and surveying himself in a mirror when Hayame finally returns home, and it's to her reflection in the corner of the mirror that he gives a jaunty wave and a cheerful,]
Welcome home! How do I look?
[He turns to face the real thing and not mirror-Hayame, then, spreading his arms so she can assess his outfit.]
[ It's some time after a few conversations Yuri's had over Communion when he reaches out to Claude. The tiniest hint of weariness precedes any words, if only because Yuri isn't quite so used to this much mental discourse, but it's necessary.
They've got so much to concern themselves with. ]
Hey Claude, when you've got a minute, I'd like to bend your metaphorical ear about something.
[There's a faint note of surprise -- he wasn't expecting to be contacted out of the blue by Yuri, of all people. That weariness is also a little worrying, so he doesn't delay his response.]
[The moon rises properly in Alenroux, unlike how it cannot defeat the suns that never seem to set in Springstar. It feels more natural here, to have the dark and light come in cycles. That is part of why she had chosen to live there, even with the monsters and the risk of accumulating Discord away from the base of Meridian power. She sleeps easier here despite all of that. But when she sleeps laying on her side on a proper bed, she needs to awkwardly turn over every few hours in order to keep herself comfortable and breathing easily.
Now... it is almost second nature to account for someone else when she does that. Gently untangling limbs, lifting her head from a chest, pulling away from warm arms... Whatever needs doing, she feels softly in the dark for Claude's body to make sure that she did not roll over onto him or disturb him overly when she shifted. These days, she doesn't even worry about waking him too much. He's grown used to it, like she has.
Tonight, though... after she rolls over and returns to his side, laying her head back on the pillow near his shoulder and settling back down with no need to worry about accidentally tugging on a strand of her no-longer long mane... She does not slip easily back into slumber. She watches him through the one natural eye she has left, the one that could see decently well in the dark. She listens to him breathe, until she is sure that he is sleeping deeply, soundly enough that he will not truly hear her when she whispers,]
Khalid... ?
[A test. She is silent after his name, heartbeats too loud in her chests, almost not breathing herself until she is sure it did not wake him. Once she is... Surely, if he is sleeping, she can... She can practice. She can say it.]
Khalid, I...
[She almost manages it. It's just two more words, they're so short, they should be so easy to form with her lips and her tongue, but something... Something holds her back. She doesn't know what it is, that leaves her quiet and embarrassed in the dark. Isn't it... She knows other people probably do not need to. Claude certainly hadn't. But practicing would make it easier to say when it was actually proper to, would it not? If she cannot even get the practice out...
Ruddy-cheeked and frustrated with herself, Hayame eventually gives up for the night, curling in beside her bedmate and letting her eyes fall back closed. Maybe... She will just try again another time. That is all.]
[Hayame has not been able to say it, even though she had tried each night since her first attempt. The first two words were easy, but the latter... they keep catching in her throat, tangling her tongue, and breaking against the backs of her sharp teeth. Something like anxiety and something like fear nestles in the edges of her hearts, wondering... If she could not say it to him even while he slumbered, could it even be true at all? Perhaps... Perhaps she had simply become so weak a woman that she would think she felt those things, that she finally felt the same way and could say something he had declared without shame from the first confession in the dark tunnels beneath the Great Tree...
Only to be wrong, and be unable to notice until the simple phrase kept dying before it became sound.
Tonight... Her hair is unbound, though at its shorn-short length after the effigy it did not become rivers of ink flowing across pillows and sheets, something to be mindful of when moving. The sleeping robe hanging loosely off the curves of muscular shoulders is lace and not the usual cotton weave. The sheets smell like... like them. Her ear is pressed to his chest, listening to his breathing and the slow, heavy beat of his heart.]
Khalid... ?
[The same test as the previous nights. Making sure he wouldn't answer her, that he did not stir, deep enough in sleep so as not to hear her when she practiced. But he doesn't seem to move or crack an eye, even when she moves a hand up to splay over her sternum, soaking up the warmth of his body and the languid, heavy feeling in her body.]
Khalid... I-
[It's only as far as she's been getting. Turning her gaze from his face in the dark, Hayame swallows, and then gathers herself to whisper,]
Khalid, I love-
[Her fingers curl gently, barely, where her hand rests on him, her face turning slightly into the muscular curve of of his chest. If he was not "looking at her"... If she just tried again-]
I love... your hands.
[She gets farther than she had before, at least, even if it was in a different way, a cop out from what she actually meant to express. Now that she has said it... Well, it wasn't a lie. Her touch drags lightly over to his shoulder, down an arm until she find his fingers... and then tangle them together, pulling them laced back to his chest for her to nuzzle briefly against and then...
Ashamed of her cowardice and frustrated with her failures, she gives up there for the night and tries to go back to sleep.]
[Hayame is not... the most domestic person. Though she has worried at times that their relationship, having a home, and all manner of other elements in Kenos had somehow conspired to make of her more of a mare between Oracle trials and missions... One of the things she did not often do was cook. At least, not in the way she imagines women in her world were meant to. She was no accomplished chef anyway, the most she was capable of when she arrived in this place was simple camp fare... and most of what she was capable of now was still simple camp fare. In their her home, Claude did more with meals than she did, and when they spent their days apart she usually relied on the market, street stalls, or jerky, rice balls, pickles, and other simple, long-lasting foods she prepared.
But one day, with no forewarning whatsoever... Hayame presents Claude with a cloth-wrapped box before they part for the day, only muttering something along the lines of "it's lunch" before she sets off for the Legionary's new headquarters. When he opens it... Well, she wasn't lying, it islunch, a simple arrangement of a few game meats, egg, rice balls, and fermented vegetables. The rice balls, though, are not like the plain white ones he may be used to seeing her eat. These contain bright yellow chunks of boiled chestnut and have turned reddish from the red beans mixed with the rice grains.
Inside is a small note, written in Hayame's halting, still-learning hand.]
𝓂𝓎 𝓉𝓎𝓅𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒿𝑒𝓌𝑒𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓇𝒾𝒸𝑒
[And that is all, with her name signed carefully below.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
leicesters) wrote2022-12-06 08:26 pm
Teatime with (Bizarro) Teach
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Oh-- Byleth? Is that you?
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Claude? Do you have time for a quick discussion?
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Sure I do, Your Dimitriness. What's up?
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( communion, beginning of the month )
[ despite the fact that it’s only dextera’s voice, there’s the hurried impression that he ran to wherever he is now in order to commune with him. considering claude was the one who proposed matters with manon, he should be the first to know. ]
I talked to Manon!
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You did? Like, while he's still a Shard? What did he say?
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communion, post-Vander rescue
And in the immediate chaos afterwards, two of them had rushed up to see if there was anything they could to do help — him, and someone else he already had found a growing respect for.
So after. After they're all out of there, after he's had a night to sleep on it, turn over every little detail in his head, he reaches out to Claude.
And, without preamble: ] She's alive. The girl. I don't know how, but...
[ Amos' voice trails off before giving up and simply transmitting the memory of what he saw and experienced to Claude, to the best of his recollection:
While the room is small, there’s what amounts to a closet where they’ll find various (macabre) equipment like syringes, bonesaws, etc., but also… Adelfoúla, or what seems to be an exact copy of her. She doesn’t move or react to them opening the door in the slightest, but examining the area where she had “broken” earlier will reveal a tiny fragment of what looks like a shard. It’s far from the size one would have come to expect from shards, and almost seems to have been cleaved from a larger stone. There’s a slight glimmer to the shard that he could recognize as being “alive”, essentially, but that her consciousness just didn’t seem to be present.
And upon attempting to commune with her, Adelfoula’s voice responding with a feeling of being distinctly surprised and a “You found one?” but no more than that.
It just.
Really seemed like something Claude should know. ]
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And Claude had repaid her by, seemingly, letting her go to her death. He hadn't anticipated Aetós' cruelty, but perhaps he should have. So when Amos's communion nudges at the corner of his mind, he's surprised.]
She is? Did you take that piece of her shard with you...?
[He's surprised, but grateful, too, that Amos had cared enough to even look. They'd already established they shared some common ground, but this seemed to be confirmation.]
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Teatime with (Bizarro) Teach Take Two
Claude, it's me. Come to Daystar Café.
[...his invites are still kinda awkward, though.]
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[Fortunately Claude is very used to Byleth's awkward, so the invitation doesn't faze him any.]
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action;
communion; during pt 2 of the seeds of unrest event
So, it is to Claude he goes. The sense of him on the approach within their Communal space like a most indelicate thundercloud, sleek and dark and crisp. He pummels at the edge of Claude's consciousness, demanding
attentionan audience. If ( when ) granted, he leads with no formalities, only a demand in the form of a question: ] What happened to Adelfoúla, after she led you to Vander? Where did she go?no subject
Hello to you too. [He responds drily. Maybe gods think themselves above such courtesies, but no matter. Set's question interests him more than nitpicking.] Aetós destroyed her -- or at least, that body he had put her in. Why do you ask?
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communion; probably during meri!communion even.
[ ugh diplomacy
but also, uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhghhhhhhhhhh he's gotta propose something ]
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[He's feigning concern, all while barely holding back a mental laugh.]
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Communion; gossip time
Claude, are you free? I want to talk to you.
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Hey, Byleth. I'm free now, yeah. What's up?
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forward-dated
A communion message, short and simple... but much heavier, perhaps, in implication.]
I will report to the General in Springstar tomorrow.
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Then I'll make sure to stick around. Where do you want to meet?
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post ambassador discussion
Watching. Growing angrier and more frustrated by the minute. And when it ends…
She has the good graces to allow him a ten minute breather before,]
Congratulations on your success, Claude von Riegan.
[Funny, because she really doesn’t sound like she’s congratulating him…]
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So he decides to sidestep his usual tendency to dodge and obfuscate, deciding to jump straight to the point.]
Thanks, but you don't need to congratulate me if you don't mean it.
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Backdated to Beach Episode
Claude, are you busy? I have... a social question.
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I've always got time for you, Byleth. What's up?
['Social question' could really mean anything, so he'll brace for the unexpected.]
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Hello Claude; I was wondering if I could seek your input on something... I hope you're doing well, though.
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[They won an Oracle, certain personal things are going well... He has plenty to feel cheerful about.]
Sounds like that might not be the case for you, though. What's on your mind?
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mid-Iqnu (cw: torture, eye things)
With no warning, no build, the equivalent of a sudden desperate, panicked pounding at the door, an attempt at Communion comes slamming into Claude's psyche. There are no words, no plea for help in anything but a jumbled, inarticulate, weak longing for it, (she can't, she can't, he'll die), but stronger is the vicious shame, the fear, the rage, rage brighter than a blazing sun ready to flare.
There's a scalpel glinting in the light, a pain deep in the skull spreading, spreading, something that should never be touched flayed raw and pulled out, on fire at every ending. An eye, sickly green, dangles between gloved fingers, but then it is a stormy grey eye, dangling by the slick and severed optic nerve between bloody fingers in the rubble of a city under siege with a beast in the sky. Claude's face, so close, his smile soft, his thumb tracing gently over her cheek below the hole where an eye used to be. There are sharp teeth smiling sadistically, the shadowy silhouette blurred by something hot and wet and a backing of bright lighting. She bites, iron flooding her mouth and pouring down her throat, but before she can choke on her own blood fingers grab her tongue, something hard and thick is forced into her mouth. Her dun flanks rise and fall slowly, Claude curled against her and moving ever so slightly along with her breathing. Ropes, straps, no matter how much she struggles she can't move, she can't fight, no, no, no, she doesn't want it, she doesn't want it and it doesn't matter, it hurts, it hurts, she wants to go home෴
And then there's nothing.]
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At first he can't react to the intrusion of his psyche with anything more than shock, followed by fear, concern, revulsion. What were they doing to her? Was it that demon again? What was he doing to her? Even without her being able to answer the images are enough, sickeningly blending in with her memories of... himself. Them, together, in their closest moments. He desperately reaches back, tries to tell her to hold on, he's coming, that he'll find her and--
She's gone.
Yet he won't give up. So long as he can maintain it, he'll keep trying to keep his mind open to hers, to desperately try to reach her as if even a glimpse of contact might offer him some clue as to where to find her.]
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a memory—
A Zenith Shard-Bearer holds another Shard in their hands, and it’s with an overwhelming feeling of loathing. They always thought of themselves as an honorable warrior, but it would be so easy to destroy this Meri…
[ ooc note — Just to avoid OOC confusion/misinterpretation, the details included in this memory are random and are not necessarily interconnected or plot meaningful beyond a surface level. However, your character is free to interpret this random memory however they’d like! This event will also be touched on somewhat during today’s NPC Communion Post. ]
late takiltu
Claude, I hope this note finds you well. And although I must apologize for having only discovered this via the newspapers, please allow me to extend my congratulations to you and Hayame on your relationship. Please share the bottle of wine with her, with my best wishes and my hope for your happiness together in the future.
-Dimitri Blaiddyd
new year's delivery
But when he returns to their home later that night after their various duties and work... On the bed is a neatly wrapped package with Claude's name on it written in painstakingly copied, slightly shaky letters. Inside is a neatly folded outfit (sans silly cape part, and with a more symmetrical, haori-like top). It had been difficult to find clothing exactly like her world's, but... It was close enough.
... And she thinks he would look good in it. So!!!]
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So he tries on the outfit, finding it loose and comfortable in fit, with the sash allowing him to adjust it perfectly to his size. Hayame isn't around to advise if he's putting it on properly, but most of it is familiar enough that he thinks he can't be far off the mark. Did human men in her world often dress this way in her world, or was this something more unique that she chose for him based on his own tastes...? He can't help but wonder.
He's turning and surveying himself in a mirror when Hayame finally returns home, and it's to her reflection in the corner of the mirror that he gives a jaunty wave and a cheerful,]
Welcome home! How do I look?
[He turns to face the real thing and not mirror-Hayame, then, spreading his arms so she can assess his outfit.]
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special kenotebook delivery
uve been spotted by.........the $ MONEY GOO$E $
send the $ MONEY GOO$E $ to 3 people or u get scorched!!
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communion
They've got so much to concern themselves with. ]
Hey Claude, when you've got a minute, I'd like to bend your metaphorical ear about something.
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Hey, Yuri. I'm free right now, what's up?
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in the middle of the night ♪
Now... it is almost second nature to account for someone else when she does that. Gently untangling limbs, lifting her head from a chest, pulling away from warm arms... Whatever needs doing, she feels softly in the dark for Claude's body to make sure that she did not roll over onto him or disturb him overly when she shifted. These days, she doesn't even worry about waking him too much. He's grown used to it, like she has.
Tonight, though... after she rolls over and returns to his side, laying her head back on the pillow near his shoulder and settling back down with no need to worry about accidentally tugging on a strand of her no-longer long mane... She does not slip easily back into slumber. She watches him through the one natural eye she has left, the one that could see decently well in the dark. She listens to him breathe, until she is sure that he is sleeping deeply, soundly enough that he will not truly hear her when she whispers,]
Khalid... ?
[A test. She is silent after his name, heartbeats too loud in her chests, almost not breathing herself until she is sure it did not wake him. Once she is... Surely, if he is sleeping, she can... She can practice. She can say it.]
Khalid, I...
[She almost manages it. It's just two more words, they're so short, they should be so easy to form with her lips and her tongue, but something... Something holds her back. She doesn't know what it is, that leaves her quiet and embarrassed in the dark. Isn't it... She knows other people probably do not need to. Claude certainly hadn't. But practicing would make it easier to say when it was actually proper to, would it not? If she cannot even get the practice out...
Ruddy-cheeked and frustrated with herself, Hayame eventually gives up for the night, curling in beside her bedmate and letting her eyes fall back closed. Maybe... She will just try again another time. That is all.]
a few days later
Only to be wrong, and be unable to notice until the simple phrase kept dying before it became sound.
Tonight... Her hair is unbound, though at its shorn-short length after the effigy it did not become rivers of ink flowing across pillows and sheets, something to be mindful of when moving. The sleeping robe hanging loosely off the curves of muscular shoulders is lace and not the usual cotton weave. The sheets smell like... like them. Her ear is pressed to his chest, listening to his breathing and the slow, heavy beat of his heart.]
Khalid... ?
[The same test as the previous nights. Making sure he wouldn't answer her, that he did not stir, deep enough in sleep so as not to hear her when she practiced. But he doesn't seem to move or crack an eye, even when she moves a hand up to splay over her sternum, soaking up the warmth of his body and the languid, heavy feeling in her body.]
Khalid... I-
[It's only as far as she's been getting. Turning her gaze from his face in the dark, Hayame swallows, and then gathers herself to whisper,]
Khalid, I love-
[Her fingers curl gently, barely, where her hand rests on him, her face turning slightly into the muscular curve of of his chest. If he was not "looking at her"... If she just tried again-]
I love... your hands.
[She gets farther than she had before, at least, even if it was in a different way, a cop out from what she actually meant to express. Now that she has said it... Well, it wasn't a lie. Her touch drags lightly over to his shoulder, down an arm until she find his fingers... and then tangle them together, pulling them laced back to his chest for her to nuzzle briefly against and then...
Ashamed of her cowardice and frustrated with her failures, she gives up there for the night and tries to go back to sleep.]
a few days later (again)
a few days later (once more)
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https://leicesters.dreamwidth.org/6221.html?thread=165965#cmt165965
theirher home, Claude did more with meals than she did, and when they spent their days apart she usually relied on the market, street stalls, or jerky, rice balls, pickles, and other simple, long-lasting foods she prepared.But one day, with no forewarning whatsoever... Hayame presents Claude with a cloth-wrapped box before they part for the day, only muttering something along the lines of "it's lunch" before she sets off for the Legionary's new headquarters. When he opens it... Well, she wasn't lying, it is lunch, a simple arrangement of a few game meats, egg, rice balls, and fermented vegetables. The rice balls, though, are not like the plain white ones he may be used to seeing her eat. These contain bright yellow chunks of boiled chestnut and have turned reddish from the red beans mixed with the rice grains.
Inside is a small note, written in Hayame's halting, still-learning hand.]
𝓂𝓎 𝓉𝓎𝓅𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒿𝑒𝓌𝑒𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓇𝒾𝒸𝑒
[And that is all, with her name signed carefully below.]