[And here he thought Flayn was the romance novel enthusiast, but Byleth just bludgeons him over the head with this information. He sets his teacup down with a pointed clink while he tries to parse all of this.]
Byleth, this is a serious question. Just how many people do you think about in terms from romance novels?
I can't believe I need to say this, but people in real life aren't the same as in novels. Keep that in mind, okay?
[But he can't disprove anything he's said until Claude speaks to Set about it personally, so he'll just let him have that one for now. He goes back to drinking his tea, feeling completely bewildered.]
But the novels help me contextualise behaviour that's otherwise confusing.
[Surrounded as he had been by mercenaries whilst growing up, and marching onto the battlefield when he measured barely higher than Jeralt's elbow, Byleth had skipped more than a few vitally important development milestones in the realm of social skills. He had never even interacted with another child when growing up, so had only ever known how to approach grizzled, stoic mercenaries - all whom were scared shitless of pissing off Jeralt if they were ever mean to Byleth, so treated him with either gruff tolerance or the kind of affection one reserved for a very clever dog (but one that could still bite).
When it came to interacting with civilians or non-mercenaries, Byleth felt like he was dealing with an alien species. Novels - not just romance novels - helped him in understanding their point of view of things. He didn't always understand, sometimes the books used very obtuse, convoluted language or metaphors that he struggled to track, but it helped him contextualise some things. Romance novels, especially, were easier - they made a lot of battlefield metaphors that he understood, because love was a battle, according to many authors.
But, even that didn't really work. Byleth still struggled with aspects of socialising that people understood innately - expressions, tone, the appropriate response to set phrases, jokes, metaphors, puns. What came to Claude as naturally as breathing was an exercise in frustration to Byleth, even when he tried his best to apply what he had learned from novels into their interactions.]
People are difficult to understand, but in novels, their emotions and motivations are laid out in a way that's easy to follow. [Well, unless they were really flowery and metaphorical, then it was even more confusing.] Applying this to real life has helped me where floundering in confusion has not.
[He doesn't want to be unkind about this. In a similar way to how Flayn had turned to books to understand people because of her long isolation, Byleth has had to do the same, perplexing as it is. Still--]
Just be careful you don't get carried away, is all I'm saying. The narrator of a story usually knows all the facts, but that's not often the case when we form an image in our minds of real people we know.
I think I understand your warning. Not to worry, though I use archetypes to help me understand others, I don't allow it to taint the profile I build of them. They're utilised more as guidelines, than solid identities.
[Unless your name is Set.]
For example, yourself: I initially assumed you to be like a Casanova-style protagonist, since in my world you were known for being a bit of an irreverent flirt, but you're actually an incredibly kind and empathetic individual. You're patient as well, and you take the time to explain and try to understand my perspective, even if you find it off-puttingly strange.
You defied the archetype I attempted to compare you to, and thus I adjusted my profile accordingly. So to me, you're now just Claude, my very kind friend.
[That's possibly the sweetest thing someone has said to him in a long time, and so this time, when Claude is caught off guard for a moment, it's because he's genuinely flattered, not perplexed.]
Thank you, Byleth. [He says it softly, once he finds his voice again.] To be honest, I spent a lot of my life faced with people who wanted to fit me into boxes, and then used that as an excuse to treat me like... [he trails off, decides on the polite word he uses for it:] --an outsider. It hurt, but it's how it always was for someone like me.
So for you to have a preconception of me, but to be able to reexamine it based on your experiences... It's a little thing, but it makes me very happy.
[Even finding people as confusing as he does, that fact alone makes Byleth way better than all those other people combined.]
I'm glad it does. I wish to return to you the happiness you've given me, after all.
[He paused, his gaze shifting to the corner of the table in what was quickly becoming an indicator for "I am trying to think of words", absentmindedly fidgeting with Clauddles in his lap.]
Because... I sympathise. I know how it feels to be judged based on nothing but rumours or assumptions: that I'm a heartless demon, or a half-feral freak that Jeralt had picked up off the side of the road one day.
[A few times some brave mercs had 'jokingly' questioned Byleth's parentage - though the joke was never appreciated by Byleth or Jeralt both. He understood how that suspicion cropped up, though: physically, there were few similarities, they didn't share the same Crest, and Byleth never called him 'Father'. It had drawn more than a few curious side-eyes.]
And here, I was worried that I'd be judged based on yours and Dimitri's perception of who 'Byleth' is meant to be. Whatever comparisons you may've drawn between me and him, though, you've politely kept to yourself. So, it's only right that I should do the same. That, though I had an preconception of you, I discarded it once it was clear how wrong it was.
Which means that we've become true friends, no? And we've done it, simply by being ourselves.
Yeah... [Hesitation, then:] Well, maybe I haven't been myself enough with you. There are still things I haven't told you that might change how you think of me, but... Knowing how you see me as you do now, maybe it wouldn't?
[Claude drains the last of his tea, looking at the dregs at the bottom of his cup as if mulling it over. Part of him still wants to play it safe when it's easier, simpler, but Byleth has been so honest with him, and so kind, it only feels fair.]
Claude, we all have parts of ourselves that we conceal from others. I haven't told you many things about myself, and which I assume the Other Byleth didn't either.
[And unless Claude was a perfect actor, then whatever secrets he was keeping weren't going to change Byleth's perception of him. You couldn't feign that level of patient kindess without some sort of irritable frustration leaking through, or slipping up in some way.]
So, don't feel pressured to share more than you're comfortable with. Even if you shared those secret parts of yourself, it won't change how I feel about you.
Yeah... You're right. Even so, I'll tell you soon.
[Claude says as he looks up, decisive. Byleth was already looking into one of his secrets, so maybe that's a good time to come clean and air out everything.]
It's not that I don't trust you. More that we've all had enough to deal with here without making things more complicated. You know?
[And he did, but it was up to Claude on whether he wanted to share or to keep his peace. Byleth certainly wasn't going to press him either way, not when he had his own troubles brewing in the back of his mind, unwilling to be shared just yet. In a way, he too was hiding things from Claude, despite his earlier pretty words.]
Considering recent events, it's understandable that personal feelings and catharsis would be set aside in favour of dealing with the situation at hand. They can be distractions at times.
[At least, in Byleth's experience. This unknown, unquantifiable emotion that made him feel like he had heartburn? Stomp it down and ignore it. It's irrelevant and distracting.
....in retrospect, he probably shouldn't be lecturing Dimitri or Claude on taking care of themselves better when he himself was bad at it.]
But you should still deal with them, when the time is right. That's what this place is for, remember?
[A hideout for them to vent their problems and unwind, not just hide away from said problems altogether. Still, Claude's tone is gentle even as he says it.]
Sometimes you need to get things off your chest just to be able to focus. Burying it doesn't work forever.
[Byleth was caught between two contradictory thoughts: the first was that yes, he had told Claude this. Daystar café was their place to vent or to say things they otherwise couldn't beyond these walls, yet at the same time, Byleth wanted to say "of course you can, of course you can bury things until they suffocate and rot and you forget they had ever existed in the first place". He's done it many times.]
...it works for some things. [Was his eventual compromise.] As some emotions have no definable source or rationality attached to them.
[His curiosity is piqued, since Byleth might have some specifics in mind. He might not get it out of him that easily, but its worth a try based as an innocent seeming question.]
[Byleth only just suppressed the kneejerk instinct to change the subject or say a bland "nothing". His friend deserved something a little better than a harsh brush off, yet Byleth wasn't quite sure what to say. What example to give. So, he decided to be a little honest.]
...that's a difficult question to answer, as I've no words to effectively explain the examples I can give. They all cause physical discomfort, though, hence why I repress them.
[Thinking of Jeralt and feeling like someone had shoved a fist into his guts and twisted them into knots. Thinking of Jeralt and feeling like the Crest Stone crammed behind his sternum had swelled to three times its size. Thinking of Jeralt and having brief yet intense urges to start clawing up the walls from an emotion so overwhelming it felt like it was going to explode and take his ribcage with it. Trying to put those into words for Claude would have him sound like a madman, though, so he didn't bother trying.]
They don't serve a purpose except to distract from more important issues, such as Aetós or the competing goals of Meridian and Zenith.
It's not true-- that negative feelings serve no purpose. If anything, they're usually trying to tell you something.
[Maybe ignoring them is how the Ashen Demon coped all this time, but it doesn't have to be like that here, even if it might seem in the short term like it makes things easier. He casts about for how to best explain.]
For example... Let's say you're nervous about something, or even scared. Those nerves can help you prepare thoroughly for whatever it is you're worried about, right? That kind of caution can save your neck compared to someone who's reckless or overconfident.
Yet majority of the time, that anxiety and fear is disproportional to the source.
[In Byleth's humble opinion, anyways. His difficulty in sleeping? Irrational. Logically, he knew that. Logically, he understood that anxiety was detrimental, yet no negotiating or brute-forcing logic at it made it go away. Only having Claude nearby helped, and soon, Clauddles may be a panacea too.]
For example, my difficulty in sleeping due to "nerves" serves no purpose but to exhaust me. What is it trying to tell me? That I'm in a dangerous location where I can't trust the majority of those around me? I'm already aware of that. The last thing I need is for my focus to be impaired because I can't-
[Ah. Byleth's frustration punched through despite his best attempts. He looked away abruptly, taking that brief pause to recollect himself. In the span of two (figurative) heartbeats, he was back to being blank-faced and placid.]
...in that example, the negative feeling serves no purpose, and in fact are dangerous to indulge in. Surely you've felt the same at some point?
[No dodging, no deflections, but no elaboration, either: just a simple answer of the truth. He tilts his head slightly and regards Byleth with a small smile, though, as if remembering something.]
Even so, I felt better not when I denied those feelings, but when I knew I had people I could rely on to ease those burdens. No one can do everything alone, no matter how strong you are.
[Byleth had expected Claude to do one of his sneaky verbal sidesteps and derail the conversation into another topic, not actually reply honestly. He blinked, visibly caught off-guard.]
...
[And... Claude was right, of course. Jeralt himself had even told him that no man was an island, no matter how much they may wish it, and in theory, Byleth agreed. Even a roaming mercenary had to rely on others from time to time - their clients to pay them, the shopkeepers to sell to them, their fellow mercenaries watching their backs in combat, even if their alliance was temporarily bought by coin. Byleth wasn't exempt from this. He relied on people to survive as well.
But applying that thinking to emotional vulnerability made Byleth want to curl up under the table with Clauddles. It was the same, yet not. Frustratingly, he had no words.]
I know. [He actually sounded tired when he murmured this.] I know that.
[...]
Claude. The truth is, I don't know what my feelings are. I don't know where to begin in... understanding them, and I won't ask you to teach me either. You have heavy enough burdens to carry.
I cherish all the time we spend together. All you need to do is learn things little by little, at your own pace. There's no need to force anything, and I don't need to teach you a thing. All that you need to know is right there. [He points at him; more specifically, to his chest. Beating heart or not, he has faith he'll figure things out.]
[Byleth had one of those indescribable emotions again, one that felt overwhelmingly uncomfortable, but not in a negative way. It was like when Dimitri had spoken so earnestly to him at the Meridian gathering - where he'd been pleased at his words yet had also wanted to crawl into a hole and bury himself in there. Claude was exhibiting that same earnestness, and it made...
...'squirmy', was the only word he could think of. Claude made him feel squirmy.
Yet, he was distracted from the sweet moment when Claude finished his kind speech by pointing at him. He obligingly looked down, identifying where Claude's finger was pointed towards and... blinked.]
...with Clauddles?
[The plushie was tall enough that its head was just shy of heart-level, an unintentional glancing shot of the metaphorical point Claude was trying to make.]
[Claude lets out a laugh, for once a genuine sound and not feigned amusement.]
You know what, you're probably right. The Golden Deer is a very old guardian, so I bet he's very wise, too. Unfortunately, he's also on the quiet and cryptic side, as you may have already noticed, so you'll just have to decipher his secrets.
[Maybe that's what he gets for naming it after Claude...]
[Claude's laugh cut through the tension, and Byleth felt his shoulders drop from the defensive hunch he hadn't realised he'd been half-curled into. The moment - whatever that moment had been - was broken, and it was something of a relief.
Still, what a nice laugh. Byleth wished he did it more often.]
I see. Unfortunately, I'm somewhat inexperienced in deciphering the cryptic silence of ancient guardians, so perhaps he'll share his wisdom if I ask nicely?
[With that, Byleth picked up Clauddles and sat the deer plushie on the edge of the table, gazing solemnly at it. Clauddles stared back with its wide, vacant eyes.]
Clauddles. [Yes. He's talking to the deer.] I have a very important question: what is Claude's favourite cake?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
leicesters) wrote2022-12-06 08:26 pm
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Byleth, this is a serious question. Just how many people do you think about in terms from romance novels?
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[Delivered unwaveringly and without a hint of awareness of how fucking bizarre this was.]
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[But he can't disprove anything he's said until Claude speaks to Set about it personally, so he'll just let him have that one for now. He goes back to drinking his tea, feeling completely bewildered.]
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[Surrounded as he had been by mercenaries whilst growing up, and marching onto the battlefield when he measured barely higher than Jeralt's elbow, Byleth had skipped more than a few vitally important development milestones in the realm of social skills. He had never even interacted with another child when growing up, so had only ever known how to approach grizzled, stoic mercenaries - all whom were scared shitless of pissing off Jeralt if they were ever mean to Byleth, so treated him with either gruff tolerance or the kind of affection one reserved for a very clever dog (but one that could still bite).
When it came to interacting with civilians or non-mercenaries, Byleth felt like he was dealing with an alien species. Novels - not just romance novels - helped him in understanding their point of view of things. He didn't always understand, sometimes the books used very obtuse, convoluted language or metaphors that he struggled to track, but it helped him contextualise some things. Romance novels, especially, were easier - they made a lot of battlefield metaphors that he understood, because love was a battle, according to many authors.
But, even that didn't really work. Byleth still struggled with aspects of socialising that people understood innately - expressions, tone, the appropriate response to set phrases, jokes, metaphors, puns. What came to Claude as naturally as breathing was an exercise in frustration to Byleth, even when he tried his best to apply what he had learned from novels into their interactions.]
People are difficult to understand, but in novels, their emotions and motivations are laid out in a way that's easy to follow. [Well, unless they were really flowery and metaphorical, then it was even more confusing.] Applying this to real life has helped me where floundering in confusion has not.
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[He doesn't want to be unkind about this. In a similar way to how Flayn had turned to books to understand people because of her long isolation, Byleth has had to do the same, perplexing as it is. Still--]
Just be careful you don't get carried away, is all I'm saying. The narrator of a story usually knows all the facts, but that's not often the case when we form an image in our minds of real people we know.
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[Unless your name is Set.]
For example, yourself: I initially assumed you to be like a Casanova-style protagonist, since in my world you were known for being a bit of an irreverent flirt, but you're actually an incredibly kind and empathetic individual. You're patient as well, and you take the time to explain and try to understand my perspective, even if you find it off-puttingly strange.
You defied the archetype I attempted to compare you to, and thus I adjusted my profile accordingly. So to me, you're now just Claude, my very kind friend.
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Thank you, Byleth. [He says it softly, once he finds his voice again.] To be honest, I spent a lot of my life faced with people who wanted to fit me into boxes, and then used that as an excuse to treat me like... [he trails off, decides on the polite word he uses for it:] --an outsider. It hurt, but it's how it always was for someone like me.
So for you to have a preconception of me, but to be able to reexamine it based on your experiences... It's a little thing, but it makes me very happy.
[Even finding people as confusing as he does, that fact alone makes Byleth way better than all those other people combined.]
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[He paused, his gaze shifting to the corner of the table in what was quickly becoming an indicator for "I am trying to think of words", absentmindedly fidgeting with Clauddles in his lap.]
Because... I sympathise. I know how it feels to be judged based on nothing but rumours or assumptions: that I'm a heartless demon, or a half-feral freak that Jeralt had picked up off the side of the road one day.
[A few times some brave mercs had 'jokingly' questioned Byleth's parentage - though the joke was never appreciated by Byleth or Jeralt both. He understood how that suspicion cropped up, though: physically, there were few similarities, they didn't share the same Crest, and Byleth never called him 'Father'. It had drawn more than a few curious side-eyes.]
And here, I was worried that I'd be judged based on yours and Dimitri's perception of who 'Byleth' is meant to be. Whatever comparisons you may've drawn between me and him, though, you've politely kept to yourself. So, it's only right that I should do the same. That, though I had an preconception of you, I discarded it once it was clear how wrong it was.
Which means that we've become true friends, no? And we've done it, simply by being ourselves.
[An achievement for Byleth!]
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[Claude drains the last of his tea, looking at the dregs at the bottom of his cup as if mulling it over. Part of him still wants to play it safe when it's easier, simpler, but Byleth has been so honest with him, and so kind, it only feels fair.]
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[And unless Claude was a perfect actor, then whatever secrets he was keeping weren't going to change Byleth's perception of him. You couldn't feign that level of patient kindess without some sort of irritable frustration leaking through, or slipping up in some way.]
So, don't feel pressured to share more than you're comfortable with. Even if you shared those secret parts of yourself, it won't change how I feel about you.
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[Claude says as he looks up, decisive. Byleth was already looking into one of his secrets, so maybe that's a good time to come clean and air out everything.]
It's not that I don't trust you. More that we've all had enough to deal with here without making things more complicated. You know?
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[And he did, but it was up to Claude on whether he wanted to share or to keep his peace. Byleth certainly wasn't going to press him either way, not when he had his own troubles brewing in the back of his mind, unwilling to be shared just yet. In a way, he too was hiding things from Claude, despite his earlier pretty words.]
Considering recent events, it's understandable that personal feelings and catharsis would be set aside in favour of dealing with the situation at hand. They can be distractions at times.
[At least, in Byleth's experience. This unknown, unquantifiable emotion that made him feel like he had heartburn? Stomp it down and ignore it. It's irrelevant and distracting.
....in retrospect, he probably shouldn't be lecturing Dimitri or Claude on taking care of themselves better when he himself was bad at it.]
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[A hideout for them to vent their problems and unwind, not just hide away from said problems altogether. Still, Claude's tone is gentle even as he says it.]
Sometimes you need to get things off your chest just to be able to focus. Burying it doesn't work forever.
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...it works for some things. [Was his eventual compromise.] As some emotions have no definable source or rationality attached to them.
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[His curiosity is piqued, since Byleth might have some specifics in mind. He might not get it out of him that easily, but its worth a try based as an innocent seeming question.]
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[Byleth only just suppressed the kneejerk instinct to change the subject or say a bland "nothing". His friend deserved something a little better than a harsh brush off, yet Byleth wasn't quite sure what to say. What example to give. So, he decided to be a little honest.]
...that's a difficult question to answer, as I've no words to effectively explain the examples I can give. They all cause physical discomfort, though, hence why I repress them.
[Thinking of Jeralt and feeling like someone had shoved a fist into his guts and twisted them into knots. Thinking of Jeralt and feeling like the Crest Stone crammed behind his sternum had swelled to three times its size. Thinking of Jeralt and having brief yet intense urges to start clawing up the walls from an emotion so overwhelming it felt like it was going to explode and take his ribcage with it. Trying to put those into words for Claude would have him sound like a madman, though, so he didn't bother trying.]
They don't serve a purpose except to distract from more important issues, such as Aetós or the competing goals of Meridian and Zenith.
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[Maybe ignoring them is how the Ashen Demon coped all this time, but it doesn't have to be like that here, even if it might seem in the short term like it makes things easier. He casts about for how to best explain.]
For example... Let's say you're nervous about something, or even scared. Those nerves can help you prepare thoroughly for whatever it is you're worried about, right? That kind of caution can save your neck compared to someone who's reckless or overconfident.
1/2
[In Byleth's humble opinion, anyways. His difficulty in sleeping? Irrational. Logically, he knew that. Logically, he understood that anxiety was detrimental, yet no negotiating or brute-forcing logic at it made it go away. Only having Claude nearby helped, and soon, Clauddles may be a panacea too.]
For example, my difficulty in sleeping due to "nerves" serves no purpose but to exhaust me. What is it trying to tell me? That I'm in a dangerous location where I can't trust the majority of those around me? I'm already aware of that. The last thing I need is for my focus to be impaired because I can't-
2/2
...in that example, the negative feeling serves no purpose, and in fact are dangerous to indulge in. Surely you've felt the same at some point?
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[No dodging, no deflections, but no elaboration, either: just a simple answer of the truth. He tilts his head slightly and regards Byleth with a small smile, though, as if remembering something.]
Even so, I felt better not when I denied those feelings, but when I knew I had people I could rely on to ease those burdens. No one can do everything alone, no matter how strong you are.
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...
[And... Claude was right, of course. Jeralt himself had even told him that no man was an island, no matter how much they may wish it, and in theory, Byleth agreed. Even a roaming mercenary had to rely on others from time to time - their clients to pay them, the shopkeepers to sell to them, their fellow mercenaries watching their backs in combat, even if their alliance was temporarily bought by coin. Byleth wasn't exempt from this. He relied on people to survive as well.
But applying that thinking to emotional vulnerability made Byleth want to curl up under the table with Clauddles. It was the same, yet not. Frustratingly, he had no words.]
I know. [He actually sounded tired when he murmured this.] I know that.
[...]
Claude. The truth is, I don't know what my feelings are. I don't know where to begin in... understanding them, and I won't ask you to teach me either. You have heavy enough burdens to carry.
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[IT'S BASIC MATH... Sort of. Okay, it's invented math, but still.]
I cherish all the time we spend together. All you need to do is learn things little by little, at your own pace. There's no need to force anything, and I don't need to teach you a thing. All that you need to know is right there. [He points at him; more specifically, to his chest. Beating heart or not, he has faith he'll figure things out.]
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...'squirmy', was the only word he could think of. Claude made him feel squirmy.
Yet, he was distracted from the sweet moment when Claude finished his kind speech by pointing at him. He obligingly looked down, identifying where Claude's finger was pointed towards and... blinked.]
...with Clauddles?
[The plushie was tall enough that its head was just shy of heart-level, an unintentional glancing shot of the metaphorical point Claude was trying to make.]
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You know what, you're probably right. The Golden Deer is a very old guardian, so I bet he's very wise, too. Unfortunately, he's also on the quiet and cryptic side, as you may have already noticed, so you'll just have to decipher his secrets.
[Maybe that's what he gets for naming it after Claude...]
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Still, what a nice laugh. Byleth wished he did it more often.]
I see. Unfortunately, I'm somewhat inexperienced in deciphering the cryptic silence of ancient guardians, so perhaps he'll share his wisdom if I ask nicely?
[With that, Byleth picked up Clauddles and sat the deer plushie on the edge of the table, gazing solemnly at it. Clauddles stared back with its wide, vacant eyes.]
Clauddles. [Yes. He's talking to the deer.] I have a very important question: what is Claude's favourite cake?
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