leicesters | IC INBOX: KENOS

[He's mystified at the admission she has two stomachs, but he guesses it makes sense; does she have two sets of everything else in her two torsos, as well? Though that thought is soon forgotten, as once she moves to sit, he breathes an inward sigh of relief, when part of him still expected her to turn up her nose and leave. So Claude brings the last few dishes to the table, along with a bread knife, and takes his seat opposite.]

Hmm... Maybe the skewers? If you want to sample a little of everything first, getting the bite-sized meat is easier.

[Fódlan has strict etiquette about meals (not that he ever adhered to it, much to a certain noble's outrage), but Almyran feasts are just a free-for-all, shown in how he starts piling his own plate with food. He's struck by an afterthought a second later, and lifts his wine glass in a toast.]

Oh, and-- cheers! [It's not a feast without one, right?]

[Two of some things. One of others. But perhaps that is a conversation for another time. Or a never time! She certainly doesn't know at what point in a... something (relationship) that it's right to discuss the difference in one's organs. Or some organs over others.

But she is here, and she is seated, and the food smells... amazing, really. Once she has his permission in the form of his beginning to help himself to the food, she begins to do the same, serving herself a sample of meats, vegetables, and breads before...

Oh.

She's seen people toast plenty of times. The stable master hosted banquets each new year, exhibition day, and auction. But jinba did not participate in such things, they watched from afar (if they were even allowed to watch at all). She had memorized it, hoping to one day reach a rank or status to be allowed such dignity... but she'd never done it. Slowly, her fingers wrap around the wine glass, lifting it slightly awkwardly.]

- Cheers.

[If this were rice wine, it might mean... But no, it isn't, and it certainly didn't mean that, so she takes a sip to simply show her gratitude. Plate full, she follows his advice and makes to sample the kebab first, sharp canines somewhat delicately biting into a piece of meat and trying to be somewhat ladylike about sliding it off the stick, beginning to chew-

Pausing.

Chewing again.

... Pausing.

And then quickly ripping off another bite, one of those two stomachs (the lower one, judging by location) emitting a low rumble of hunger.]

[Her awkwardness doesn't go unnoticed, but he doesn't even tease her about it, taking a sip before returning to his food. Mercifully, he'd picked the skewers that were slightly burned for himself (he didn't claim to be an amazing chef) to spare Hayame the hassle, and most of the other dishes seem to have come out unscathed.

He does, however, laugh when her stomach rumbles, looking up from the grilled steak he was cutting into.]

That hungry? How is it?

[... She might have been hungry. To be honest, jinba were almost never completely full, with as much as they needed to consume to fuel half ton bodies of powerful muscle, but.]

It is a satisfying taste.

[Could it be called a feast, when they were the only two people in attendance? Or did just having that much food make it one? She'd never really had to wonder about that. What had he put on this meat? She was used to much simpler profiles and frontier techniques like drying or salting, but there was so much flavor on it, even without the more obvious presence of sauce that she sometimes encountered in the street stalls she patroned.

She tries not to look too slovenly while doing it, but she begins to sample more and more of what's on the table, curiously poking at the red, jewel-like pieces in the rice before curiously... Hmm, there are no chopsticks. Improvising, she uses her hands to try and press the rice into a more familiar onigiri shape, but the grains just don't stick together the way she is accustomed, and the shape crumbles halfway to her lip. Emitting a frustrated noise, she leans over the plate so as not to make a mess and hastily gets what remained in her hand into her mouth, but.

Hmm... Hmm...]

What is this?

[It's... very satisfying.]

Oh, uh-- [He was going to tell her the rice won't stick together in the way she's attempting, but it's a little too late, and he blinks. Had she never eaten rice before, or was it just customary to eat it that way back home...?

Regardless, he sets down his fork and answers her question.]

We call it jewelled rice in Almyra. The red seeds and the green nuts look like gems, right? And the saffron turns the rice a golden colour. You can add other fruits and nuts to it, but it's the first time I've made it myself, so I didn't go too crazy.

[Surely everyone made their rice into portable little triangles... ? It was very practical and easy to eat that way! ... She was going to guess maybe that his cooking skill had failed and somehow made the rice all non-sticky, but. Right. Foreign cuisine. (And foreign utensils... She's used a fork before, but the other one is ???)]

Jewelled rice...

[A very fancy title, but one that makes some sense with the explanation. Putting fruit and nuts into rice would sound rather shocking to her, but the taste wasn't anything she was about to complain about. Still, she can't help but be curious, plucking a red bit from the rice and holding it up for inspection in the light.]

This is a fruit seed?

[He smiles, and nods. Most people from Fódlan would probably be fascinated by the fruit too, so he can't blame her for the reaction.]

Yeah, it's from a fruit called a pomegranate. It's a red fruit, about this big, [he gestures to indicate about the size of an apple,] and when you open it up once it's ripe, it's full of these seeds. Kind of a messy process, but they're so tasty, it's worth the effort.

[He tries some of the rice himself, using a spoon instead of his hands, as a demonstration for how to eat it. After a pause and a swallow, he nods his approval.]

Ahh, yeah. It needs work, but that's the taste of home I remember.

[... The tiny, deep ladle looking utensil.

Frowning somewhat self-consciously, Hayame slowly picks the one she assumes is hers up off the table and tries to mimic how Claude holds it, her fingers somewhat wrong in the angle but at least strong enough in the grip.]

I would like to see the fruit one day.

[... It sounded pretty. If fruit could be pretty.

Applying the concentration of a woman doing something far more high stakes than using a spoon... Hayame begins to carefully eat more of the rice, delighting in the little pop-crunching textures of the seeds.]

You are far more accomplished than I expected.

[He'll make a mental note to give her a pomegranate next time he buys some. They are pretty interesting to look at, even without being opened. The flowers are pretty, too.]

In awe of my wide repertoire of skills? [He preens, taking a sip of wine, though the smirk quirking at his expression makes it clear he's not being too serious.] I just like learning new things and experimenting, that's all. It also helps that I love food!

[He laughs. Maybe it's just as well that he's found someone with an appetite even more bottomless than his.]

"Awe" is a very strong word.

[Balancing the spoon takes more effort than she would have thought, but at least she isn't spilling. Wobbling, maybe, but-]

But I was trying to compliment you.

[Just... in case it wasn't clear. She feels her words are often misconstrued by her fellow shard-bearers, so. Just in case.]

I know few men in my world capable of cooking decent fare. Most leave it to their women.

I know. [He reassures her, his expression becoming more gentle as he sets down his glass.] Like I said, the Officer's Academy was a unique place. Food was a thing that could bring us all together, regardless of our differences. Being a man or a woman or anything else had nothing to do with it.

[And back when he was a teenager, that had a huge impact on him. Helping him feel like, if given the right conditions to thrive, his dream just might be possible. He just had to do it in a better way than Rhea's Garreg Mach.]

Even Dimitri cooked despite being a prince, you know? Though his cooking was, uh...

[He tried???]

I still cannot imagine that.

[She admits it freely, even as she awkwardly uses her spoon to shovel some of the vegetables onto her plate. A place where being a king or a peasant didn't matter, where being a woman or a man didn't matter... In her world, such things mattered so much that they defined the course of your entire life.

They'd certainly defined everything about hers. What is that feeling she has, when she hears people talk of such things? Something like jealousy, even though she thinks a better person would be glad that others benefited from such equalities.

Better to think about this Dmitri. The blonde prince hadn't made the most favorable impression on her, (and the entire debacle over the communion in the roots had been... something), but.]

- not good?

Awful. His retainer, on the other hand, was an amazing chef.

[He smiles sadly when he thinks of Dedue, and how they'd parted ways in Enbarr. He wonders what he's doing now, in his world, and takes a bite of fruit and steak while he mulls it over.]

...It feels so long ago now, but we students all had some good times together, before the war. I hope people have a chance to keep making memories here before conflict tears it apart, too.

[They've been given a second chance after the Oracle, at least. He doesn't want to squander that.]

[Hayame had hoped not to think of more recent events after the Oracle, but she cannot help it when he talks about... making memories, of all things. Before conflict tears it apart, he says- did he mean, then, friendships between Meridian and Zenith? She tries to ignore it in favor of eating, and honestly, it's not too hard at first, because the bread is soft and warm and the meat is filling, the vegetables not all the same she is used to, and she even considers asking if he had "retainers" himself, as a different distraction, but-]

The more "memories" they make the more it will simply muddle the waters when the war escalates.

[Because what do wars do but escalate? Unless they uncover some massive new truth about this world... the Oracles were still the only path towards achieving their faction's goals that had any hope behind it. Even if he meant within Meridian...

Well. She didn't need pleasant memories to do her job.]

I wasn't just thinking about the other Shardbearers, but about you. So long as this peace lasts, you can experience things like this. Do things that make you happy.

[He cuts himself a slice of bread, not daring to look up to see the judgement or disapproval on her face. She might think the ambassador project is a waste of time, but he's trying to make it work for her as much as anyone else. All his experiences, the academy included, means he appreciates just how precious peace is.]

...Anyway, I said we wouldn't talk shop right now. [He finally musters the courage to glance up at her.] Let's worry about the future later.

[... About her.

He isn't wrong to think that she might wear a look of disapproval to hear that. Her lips thin, and the corners turn downwards, her grip on the spoon thing too tight. It is instinctive for her by now- shunning things that did not correlate directly to duty or battle, that might risk being enjoyable only for her to realize too soon that they were not for her or could not last.

In the wake of her silence (and chewing) he seems amiable to moving on instead, but Hayame is slightly stuck.]

... What sort of things do you expect?

[Things that... made her happy. Obviously not serving as an ambassador, which he had taken the initiative to tell everyone on her behalf. - She still needed to chastise him for that. But she isn't sure if she asks him that question because she is ready to reject the proposals or because she is simply curious... and her tone doesn't likely make it easy to tell, either.]

[Claude chews on his food for a moment, but he's suddenly distracted from the taste. Worried, again, that anything he says could anger her and damage things between them.

But they can't build anything between them based on fear, right? He had already told her he wouldn't withhold anything from her any more, and that goes for important thoughts and feelings, too. So he responds, cautious.]

I want you to figure out what makes you happy. It's not something I can dictate to you, but it's something I can help you figure out, a little at a time. It could be little things... like seeing what this came from.

[He picks a pomegranate seed from his food, holds it up like she had, then pops it in his mouth and eats it, a lopsided smile on his face as he swallows.]

Or... big things. [Like she had accepted Claude's feelings, for all his flaws, for all their differences and things they don't agree on.]

[She doesn’t stop eating, though her movements are slower and more methodical, covering for what she isn’t sure is anger or bitterness or curiosity. Maybe, since she feels a twinge of something like disappointment when he says she should figure it out (mostly), it was more of the latter.

Small things. Big things.]

… I am not a happy person.

[In general. Would that change just because she found a few more things to like? (To love?) It wasn’t like she was unaware of her disposition, or how other people saw her. (How other people had made it clear they saw her, time and again, most recently in regards to ambassadors.) She hasn’t even… has she smiled more than she could count on the fingers of one hand since her arrival here?

She doesn’t think so. Slowly, her eye slips over to him, catching that lopsided smile.]

I would not want you to stake too much on my discoveries.

[It would be cruel to lead him on, surely.]

[A wounded expression passes across his face, and he picks up his drink to buy himself time (or liquid courage) to figure out what to say. Instead, though, he doesn't drink, just finds himself swirling the deep red liquid as if it can somehow help circulate his thoughts.

Perhaps he should clear something up first.]

Don't misunderstand... I love you exactly as you are. [He says, eventually, looking up once more. It pulls at his heartstrings to think that she might assume otherwise. That she might think, again, that she's defective in some way.]

So, I'm not trying to make you into someone you're not. I just... want to give you things you didn't have.

[Seeing that expression on his face didn’t make her happy. It made her lips twist downward into even more opposite a smile, made her fingers tighten on the spoon. Eventually, it even makes her turn her gaze away again, because…

Because her skin always feels so hot when he says love. So easy, so clear, so… something she is trying to accept but still struggles to wholly believe. “Love”.]

…

[He wants to give her things, when most of what she’s ever known has just been taking. How to accept them, how to ask for them… she doesn’t really know how. (Matsukaze had wanted her to be happy. Set, Liem, Akua, they wanted her to be happy as “friends”. But this?). What could she say now, when a part of her kept trying to sabotage this still and the rest of her just wanted to believe?]

The food makes me happy enough.

[That he cooked it for her, not just… that it was there…]

Edited 2023-06-21 19:12 (UTC)

[He seems taken aback, at such a simple admission, and he takes a gulp of wine and sets down the glass.]

Well-- good! You had me worried, for a second there.

[He refills his glass, then tops hers up, too, suddenly embarassed. He's normally so rational and calculating, that it feels crazy to hang on to every little word and mood of hers like it's a matter of life and death.

Or-- maybe it is. He had said before how worried he was that this place would chew her up and spit her out, leave her with so many enemies that she'd wind up dissipated and her shard ground to dust. If he can just show her that it doesn't have to be like that, there are things she can find that make living worthwhile beyond fighting...

Then maybe that little admission really is a big deal.]

[Even after saying it, Hayame isn’t entirely sure if she said it because it was true or just because she wanted him to have something. A reward for his hard work, or for putting up with her, when she thinks she knows for a fact that if he had confessed his feelings and said the sweet words he’d said to any other woman that surely…

Surely they would have treated him better. Be treating him better.

But she doesn’t know, and now… isn’t the place or the time to try and figure out which it was. Instead, she obligingly pushes her glass closer for the refill, unconcerned that any amount he would serve her would make her feel anything. Not unless he served up half the barrel anyway, her metabolism was too quick for it otherwise. But in the silence, before she returns to chewing (or rather, slowly decimating a lot of the fare on the table),]

You can talk about something. Your home, or what not.

[If she talks, she will likely spoil it, whether accidental or not. If they talk of this place, she won’t be able to stop herself from bringing up the ambassadors judgements. So… something else.]

Oh... sure. [He was getting sidetracked enough that he has to cast his mind back to their previous topic, eating a small mouthful of rice (and yes, eating at a slower pace than Hayame) as he considers. Something easy to talk about, something that won't bring up friction between them, but which she still might find interesting...]

I was talking about the academy and what life was like there, right? Byleth was there too, but a different Byleth to the mercenary we both know here. The Byleth from my world actually became my teacher.

[Time to leisurely eat is never something Hayame had, so… her pace is quite quick and efficient by default. Thankfully, the sheer volume she’s packing away means it doesn’t seem that she’s in danger of leaving him behind.

And she can listen while she chews, no problem, so-]

What do you mean, a different one?

[She abandons the tricky spoon for another kebab.]

Byleth, Dimitri and I are from three different Fódlans, where events diverged pretty dramatically. As Dimitri would have it, Byleth picked the Blue Lion house as its teacher. The way I remember it, of course he couldn't say no to teaching his adorable little Golden Deer. --That was my house, back in the day.

[Which probably explains all his oblique animal metaphors he likes to make sometimes... but anyway.]

And for the Byleth we know here? He never became a teacher, but eventually joined Dimitri's army as a sellsword. I was basically a stranger to him.

[Which was tough, at least at first, but he's long since come to terms with it.]

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