[Claude, too, would be a light sleeper back home, living in a world of constant threat of assassination as he has. In Kenos he can rest easier, though, doubly so when he's next to someone he can trust, and so he's breathing evenly where he sleeps, completely disarmed, even from the usual smile he has fixed in place. At some point in the night, one hand has moved to rest lightly on her withers, as if recalling where he'd touched her vestigial mane not long before.
When she speaks quietly and begins to move, though, he lets out a quiet 'mmm?' and looks like he might wake up...
Only to roll over as she does, and go straight back to sleep. It... might give her more room to not kick him, at least?]
Hayame thinks she is glad for that, at first, because honestly... it is not very dignified, a jinba trying to roll over on a flat surface. Unlike a horse, she has human hands to assist, to brace and push off, but still... she grunts a bit as she shifts, pulling her legs in tight to her body to keep from kicking him along the way. Once she succeeds she could just lay back down fully, but...
She finds that she has paused once more, propped up on an elbow and just... looking at him, her hearts lodged somewhere in her throat. Pretending to have a reason not to just fall back asleep herself, she carefully fixes the sheets... but her eyes keep returning to his face. She finds herself leaning closer, closer... until the tip of her nose just begins to brush his dark hair and she can inhale softly, taking in his scent alone in the dark. ... He smelled good.
If she... If she were going to accept what he'd said to her in Alenroux, if she were going to believe it...]
... Are you asleep... ?
[The whisper ghosts over the shell of his ear as she hesitantly moves even closer, enough that she can nuzzle gently into his hair, a foreleg cautiously uncurling and dragging along his side.]
[Claude tends to carry a faint smell of warm spices and citrus, with leather notes, likely from the riding gear he's often seen in. He's still asleep, too, at least until her voice and breath tickle against the sensitive skin of his ear, and he cracks a green eye open. She feels... warm where she nuzzles him, drags her leg against his side, and it suffuses him with a soft, contented feeling that could send him right back to sleep again. He doesn't, though, at least not yet.]
You okay? [He says, drowsy, one hand drifting under the sheets to touch her foreleg.]
[... He just touches her foreleg without hesitance, as easily as if he were touching a human woman's limb. It makes her... feel something, something grateful and confused and resentful and hopeful all at once. And it makes her fetlock curl, hoof following to rub against his thigh.]
... are you?
[Her voice remains a whisper, as if afraid she might disturb something or become unable to do more if the quiet was broken. The unfamiliar scent of spice and the sharp notes of citrus linger where she nuzzled, and she finds herself... doing it again, this time lingering longer in her inhale. Maybe later he'll think he was dreaming.]
I'm not too hot... ?
[... She genuinely means. Temperature. Jinba body heats ran higher than humans. What if it was uncomfortable to sleep beside... ?]
[His hand finds her hoof, and he's to sleepy to tease her, if he'd be inclined to do it in a waking moment, for her show of intimacy, the way she nuzzles her face in his hair.
Besides, it's midwinter in Springstar, so while it never gets cold here, it's milder than usual. Hayame's presence is a buffer against it.]
[She cannot feel his hand when it leaves her hide for hoof, the sensation dull, but she can somewhat sense the weight, the pressure. It gives her the courage to slowly settle her upper half back into the mattress... and to just as slowly press herself against his body from behind, like he had that Blight-alleviated morning. But instead of pressing her forehead between his shoulders, she hesitates... and then nuzzles her way against the curve of his neck, her breath shallow and nervous on his skin.
Perfect. It sounded so normal... like this was normal, like they weren't a jinba and a human, like she knew how she felt, like-]
... That's good... I'm glad...
[Her hands creep curiously across the mattress until they find him, arms winnowing around his sides and fingers splaying over his chest. From there... from there- Her cheeks grow warmer, her breathing a bit more uneven, before she tips her head just enough into his neck that her lips can press in something like a kiss.]
[Her nervous breath against his skin, her arms around him, against the bare skin of his chest... He feels as if he's being enveloped in Hayame's warmth. His eyes, half-lidded, drift closed again at the light press of lips to his neck, close to where his golden shard sits at his nape.
The shard she had treated so tenderly before, the moment that tipped him into the realisation that his feelings for her ran much deeper and fiercer than allies, friends. And now, in this moment, he wonders if he can dare to believe, in her arms, that she feels the same way.
The lines that divide people... Human, jinba, everyone else... They were just illusions. Maybe she was starting to accept that, too. But he can't articulate half-asleep thoughts at this hour, so he contents himself with a few breathy syllables.]
Hayame... [He's drifting off again with a sigh. If she dares to look, there's the smallest smile of contentment on his face.]
[She had asked if her body heat was too high for him to sleep beside, but he... he's the one who feels hot to her now, burning along the lines where their skin meets. Her fingers slowly splay wider across the muscles of his chest, feeling his pulse and the rise and fall of his lungs, wondering (nervous) if he could detect how her twin heartbeats stutter from where her breasts press against his back. Like this... like this, he cannot see how conflicted she looks, how embarrassed and afraid such mundane things make her.
Fighting a monster in Alenroux would be less terrifying. Being inspected by potential buyers who stuck their fingers in her mouth and lifted her tail was almost less shameful. And yet...
In the dim light, on a mattress dragged from his bedroom, in the sleepy haze between cycles where she could pretend it was just instinct and half-hope he might think it was a dream... Hayame tries to pretend that she does believe. That she was a normal woman who knew how to be with someone who cared about her. She nuzzles further into his neck, his scent, her forelegs curling around his thighs like a second pair of arms attempting to hold him. A part of her wondered if she was brave enough to try more, but...
He sounded tired. And happy.
So she tries to go to sleep, instead of just staring at the silhouette of the side of his face in the dark.]
[Claude wakes in the early hours of the morning (he assumes; it's always hard to tell in Springstar) held close in Hayame's arms, her legs curled around him, the press of her bound breasts against his back and his warm breath against her neck. He has a hazy recollection of her moving in the night and saying something, and perhaps he had, too, but he soon fell back asleep.
Yet she hadn't panicked, or left in the night, or anything else. She had stayed with him and held him close. Held him, as if...
...He could stay like this, but perhaps if she wakes soon, she'll be embarassed, without the veil of relative darkness or sleepiness as a cover. So he extracts himself as carefully as he can out of her grip, pausing only briefly to admire her sleeping face, press a kiss to her forehead.
Then he sets about his morning routine: bathing, shaving, getting dressed, and finally, opening the blinds a little so he can arrange some cushions, sit in the gentle light of the rising sun, and carry out his daily meditation. He sits completely still, with his eyes closed, listening to little but the sound of his own breathing -- today, joined by the sound of Hayame's two sets of lungs on the other side of the room.]
[Normally, Hayame would never believe that she could sleep through the movements that she does that morning. She is accustomed to starting awake at the slightest noise, the faintest hint of movement, immediately ready to attack or go on the defense... But she has never spent the night like this. She has never slept beside someone warm, someone who made her feel... almost something like safe, in a soft mattress and clean sheets.
He is able to extract himself with only a faint bit of resistance, her forelegs twitching as they try to clutch at his thighs, but then he is free of her, and all her limbs curl half-protectively around her own body instead. In her sleep, her brow unfurrowed by the desperation and rage that tended to drive her, her lips unpursed by frustration or attempts to school her expression... She looks much younger.
It isn't until some time after the blinds have been opened that the warmth and the light begins to rouse her. Slowly she begins to stir, her tail flicking, fetlocks flexing, fingers curling in the sheets and pulling them to her chest as she nuzzles into the pillow... and eventually, her eye opens. Where is- ? No, Claude is there, sitting silently on cushions nearby on the floor, doing... Doing something?
In the silence, her cheeks begin to heat, recalling the previous night in vague impressions. What... She does not know what is the proper etiquette, how to behave now that morning has come... and for what seems to be a long time, she just watches him, hoping that something will come to her. Is he... he looks almost like a monk. His breathing is so even, his posture straight... and eventually, for lack of any better idea or inspiration, knowing she must eventually do something...]
... What are you doing?
[Her voice is muffled slightly by the pillow, her remaining eye only barely visible, peeking over the plush edge of it where her face remains half-buried.]
[When he's not doing a breathing meditation, he tends to focus on nature, on his feelings of gratitude towards it, of the sun on his face, of the sound of distant birdsong or, as with some mornings, the sound of rainfall outside. With his attention elsewhere entirely, on the scant resources of Springstar that keep the island alive, the muffled voice almost sounds faraway.
He has to tug his attention back to the room, and his eyes open slowly, like he's emerging from some great depth. It's worth being distracted, though, just to see Hayame peeking over the pillow.]
Meditating... I do it every morning. Ever tried it?
[He really had been somewhere else, hadn’t he? Curious, Hayame simply watches as he emerges from his thoughts (or… lack of thoughts?), her tail continuing to slightly betray her by swishing across the mattress. She could stretch… she should get up and compose herself…
But the bed is warm. And comfortable. And if she is here, and no one else might see her, unlike in the stables…]
Not like that.
[Before a hunt she tried to focus herself… perhaps occasionally what she attempted to do in archery training could count as a meditation, but… nothing that long or that peaceful looking. It seemed different.]
Hah! No, I'm not part of the church, even though I did live in a monastery in Fódlan for a while. This is a practice from Almyra.
[Though he can see why she'd think so. He had to do it in secret in Fódlan, since it wasn't exactly a normal part of the Church of Seiros' acts of prayer or worship. Certain people would start asking certain questions.]
I do it every morning. I probably should've remembered to tell you in advance, though, sorry.
[She'd warned him that she would need to roll over in the night because it would disturb him, but... This wasn't disturbing anyone. ... It's not bothering her. He'd looked... perhaps almost like praying, but not quite. (Though what did she know about praying? Real praying.)
If she falls silent... She will have to get out of bed. And if she gets out of bed, she will have to leave. So-]
Sometimes I use it just to clear my head and start the day in the right frame of mind. Other times it's like a way of remembering all the things I'm grateful for. Even the island of Springstar, the suns, the sky, the ground under our feet... The church here might worship Meridian as a life-giving force, but I put more stock in nature itself.
[Just as he preferred the natural world to gods or the dogma that people ascribe to them. He gets to his feet, picking up the cushions he'd been sitting on.]
Pretty much all Almyrans rise with the sun, whether you're from the steppe, the desert, or the cities. It's a little harder here when the sun never fully goes down, but it's always a habit I've stuck to.
[The right frame of mind... Things to be grateful for. The shrine priests spoke of everything having a spirit... The trees, the rocks, the mountains, the rain... It's not like she had a choice, but if she had to choose between the shrine priests or the temple monks... She preferred the priests. Maybe if she'd lived there long enough, if she'd had the chance... the Great Mountain that Matsukaze prayed to would have come to make sense.]
... I usually rise with the sun.
[But for some reason, today... She hadn't. It is almost embarrassing, in a way, and yet... If she just stays where she is, with her face still half-buried in his pillows...]
[The more he hears about mountain jinba, the more they sound like his kind of people. He finishes tidying things away, and opens the blinds further, now that Hayame is awake.]
Well, you don't have to today. Take your time.
[He moves to sit beside her again, the mattress creaking gently.]
It's not perfect, but it beats sleeping in a stall, right?
[Her remaining right eye squints slightly as more of Springstar's twin sun rays begin pouring in. Normally she is awake long before this, adjusted to the light... How strange it is, to still be laying down. Perhaps she has been on Alenroux too long. There, at least, night fell, and she'd grown a bit accustomed to it recently.
- She does not expect him to come back and sit beside her. She feels almost small for a moment, despite her larger size, with how she's still on her side and as curled up as a jinba was capable of being. Her first instinct is to grumble, to accuse him of mocking her, but. ... She does not think he is. Not that way.]
... I never said that it was more comfortable in a stall.
[She'd said... that jinba belonged there. It's not like she didn't know... that a proper house...
Her eye averts. Her dark hair falls partially into her face.]
Liem Talbott means for me to take the house he built in Alenroux.
[He stops himself short, even while he's visibly startled. He'd already talked to Liem before and knew that he didn't bear a grudge for what she did, but to build and offer her a house after all of that is nothing short of remarkable.]
Uh, never mind. What will you do? Are you going to accept it?
It could be many things. Even after she'd killed him for betraying Meridian? Even after she had condemned him in Communion alongside the other traitors as not worth trying to rescue or return to the fold? Even after she had run into him in Alenroux and demanded he leave, grabbed him, shook him, called him a traitor, demanded to know why he hadn't come to her if he felt weak, why he hadn't trusted in her strength-]
He is Meridian again.
[How she knows that, since when it had happened... She seems to almost say, and yet. She does not volunteer it so quickly or easily. When it comes to the house...]
[There are so many things wrong with that line of logic he doesn't know where to start, and for a second he just looks at her, aghast. He'd tried to gloss over the subject, but now it seems unavoidable.]
You can't just... He can't just...
[Are they both content to act like what transpired under the Tree is just a thing of the past, or is there more to it than that? He shakes his head and reaches to touch her shoulder.]
[For some reason, she did not expect him to react like that. ... But maybe she shouldn't be surprised. For all they had been through, the way that the events of this place had thrown them together... What did she know? She didn't even know he... he meditated every morning. And now he's touching her shoulder, like- What? Did he think she'd done something wrong?
Despite herself, she begins to look... ready to be offended. Ready to be blamed for something. She shouldn't be laying down for a conversation like this, but to try and haul herself awkwardly up now-]
He was still coming to Alenroux to work on the house despite going to Zenith. I confronted him. ... I cleansed his Discord. I brought him back.
[Even though she'd said that anyone who turned traitor was useless to pursue. That they could never be trusted again.]
[Claude studies her for a moment, still feeling like he's missing some vital context, but... it's not something she'd have a reason to lie about, either. He gives a sad smile and lets her shoulder go.]
...You two really care about each other.
[Despite Liem's perceived betrayal, and despite what Hayame had done to him in turn. It's surprising, but also, in a twisted way, a kind of relief, to know that someone cares for her to that extent. That someone would still offer that much to her after their own death.]
[The context is there, but... It is either shameful or not hers to say. She cannot bear to admit that despite all her talk of traitors and her hardline stance on accepting them again that she has hypocritically made an exception and demanded (practically begged) one of them to come back to Meridian (her). She cannot tell another man that Liem had called her his friend and demanded she fight to survive as a condition for his belief in Meriian, that he had wept in her arms.
So she says the parts she can more easily say.
She doesn't know why Claude's smile looks sad. (She doesn't know why she dislikes that he takes his hand off her shoulder.)]
... I have known Liem Talbott since I first was ripped to Horos.
[Did that explain it well enough? No, she knows that it doesn't. Her expression twists with frustration, struggling to be... anything close to open.]
He saw... what I'd done. In that space before hatching.
[Claude would remember. That strange field of space between worlds before they woke up in Horos, where their memories and pasts flickered and could be seen by anyone else. The place where they'd had to choose between the call of the shadows or the light. (He'd remember, too... the things she'd tried to throw in his face as proof that she was unlovable, that she had done things too unforgivable to deserve affection or any sort of normal relationship.)]
But he told me... that I had to keep moving. He waited for me.... He waited until I could choose the path of the light.
[And those words, that guidance, when she had wept and thought herself better of dead, the way he'd patiently stood there until she was able to believe him just enough to think that maybe she deserved more than the embrace of shadows and darkness...
Maybe that was care. Even if she hadn't wanted it. Even if he hadn't asked her to decide she owed him a debt.]
[Claude did remember Horos, what it was like. To choose the light was natural for him, but knowing what he does about Hayame and her past now, he can imagine why the choice would have tormented her. So to think that Liem encouraged her, showed her kindness, in that moment where she must have been sure she had lost everything, that she wasn't deserving...
He has more respect for the man, now. He also understands, too, why Liem's choice to turn toward Zenith would feel like such a personal betrayal, that she would feel she has no choice but to kill him, even as she refused to abandon his Shard. He's under no illusion that he would be shown mercy either, should Claude himself turn toward Zenith. Slowly, the puzzle pieces are falling into place.]
You should accept his gift. [He slowly lays down on the pillow next to her, so that they're eye-to-eye once more, and he cups her cheek.] You did deserve to walk into the light back then, and you deserve somewhere you can live in comfort.
[Liem also deserved to live, but he bites back his disapproval. It's done, and Liem has since returned. The rest isn't his affair to meddle with.]
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leicesters) wrote2022-12-06 08:26 pm
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When she speaks quietly and begins to move, though, he lets out a quiet 'mmm?' and looks like he might wake up...
Only to roll over as she does, and go straight back to sleep. It... might give her more room to not kick him, at least?]
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Hayame thinks she is glad for that, at first, because honestly... it is not very dignified, a jinba trying to roll over on a flat surface. Unlike a horse, she has human hands to assist, to brace and push off, but still... she grunts a bit as she shifts, pulling her legs in tight to her body to keep from kicking him along the way. Once she succeeds she could just lay back down fully, but...
She finds that she has paused once more, propped up on an elbow and just... looking at him, her hearts lodged somewhere in her throat. Pretending to have a reason not to just fall back asleep herself, she carefully fixes the sheets... but her eyes keep returning to his face. She finds herself leaning closer, closer... until the tip of her nose just begins to brush his dark hair and she can inhale softly, taking in his scent alone in the dark. ... He smelled good.
If she... If she were going to accept what he'd said to her in Alenroux, if she were going to believe it...]
... Are you asleep... ?
[The whisper ghosts over the shell of his ear as she hesitantly moves even closer, enough that she can nuzzle gently into his hair, a foreleg cautiously uncurling and dragging along his side.]
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You okay? [He says, drowsy, one hand drifting under the sheets to touch her foreleg.]
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... are you?
[Her voice remains a whisper, as if afraid she might disturb something or become unable to do more if the quiet was broken. The unfamiliar scent of spice and the sharp notes of citrus linger where she nuzzled, and she finds herself... doing it again, this time lingering longer in her inhale. Maybe later he'll think he was dreaming.]
I'm not too hot... ?
[... She genuinely means. Temperature. Jinba body heats ran higher than humans. What if it was uncomfortable to sleep beside... ?]
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[His hand finds her hoof, and he's to sleepy to tease her, if he'd be inclined to do it in a waking moment, for her show of intimacy, the way she nuzzles her face in his hair.
Besides, it's midwinter in Springstar, so while it never gets cold here, it's milder than usual. Hayame's presence is a buffer against it.]
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Perfect. It sounded so normal... like this was normal, like they weren't a jinba and a human, like she knew how she felt, like-]
... That's good... I'm glad...
[Her hands creep curiously across the mattress until they find him, arms winnowing around his sides and fingers splaying over his chest. From there... from there- Her cheeks grow warmer, her breathing a bit more uneven, before she tips her head just enough into his neck that her lips can press in something like a kiss.]
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The shard she had treated so tenderly before, the moment that tipped him into the realisation that his feelings for her ran much deeper and fiercer than allies, friends. And now, in this moment, he wonders if he can dare to believe, in her arms, that she feels the same way.
The lines that divide people... Human, jinba, everyone else... They were just illusions. Maybe she was starting to accept that, too. But he can't articulate half-asleep thoughts at this hour, so he contents himself with a few breathy syllables.]
Hayame... [He's drifting off again with a sigh. If she dares to look, there's the smallest smile of contentment on his face.]
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Fighting a monster in Alenroux would be less terrifying. Being inspected by potential buyers who stuck their fingers in her mouth and lifted her tail was almost less shameful. And yet...
In the dim light, on a mattress dragged from his bedroom, in the sleepy haze between cycles where she could pretend it was just instinct and half-hope he might think it was a dream... Hayame tries to pretend that she does believe. That she was a normal woman who knew how to be with someone who cared about her. She nuzzles further into his neck, his scent, her forelegs curling around his thighs like a second pair of arms attempting to hold him. A part of her wondered if she was brave enough to try more, but...
He sounded tired. And happy.
So she tries to go to sleep, instead of just staring at the silhouette of the side of his face in the dark.]
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Yet she hadn't panicked, or left in the night, or anything else. She had stayed with him and held him close. Held him, as if...
...He could stay like this, but perhaps if she wakes soon, she'll be embarassed, without the veil of relative darkness or sleepiness as a cover. So he extracts himself as carefully as he can out of her grip, pausing only briefly to admire her sleeping face, press a kiss to her forehead.
Then he sets about his morning routine: bathing, shaving, getting dressed, and finally, opening the blinds a little so he can arrange some cushions, sit in the gentle light of the rising sun, and carry out his daily meditation. He sits completely still, with his eyes closed, listening to little but the sound of his own breathing -- today, joined by the sound of Hayame's two sets of lungs on the other side of the room.]
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He is able to extract himself with only a faint bit of resistance, her forelegs twitching as they try to clutch at his thighs, but then he is free of her, and all her limbs curl half-protectively around her own body instead. In her sleep, her brow unfurrowed by the desperation and rage that tended to drive her, her lips unpursed by frustration or attempts to school her expression... She looks much younger.
It isn't until some time after the blinds have been opened that the warmth and the light begins to rouse her. Slowly she begins to stir, her tail flicking, fetlocks flexing, fingers curling in the sheets and pulling them to her chest as she nuzzles into the pillow... and eventually, her eye opens. Where is- ? No, Claude is there, sitting silently on cushions nearby on the floor, doing... Doing something?
In the silence, her cheeks begin to heat, recalling the previous night in vague impressions. What... She does not know what is the proper etiquette, how to behave now that morning has come... and for what seems to be a long time, she just watches him, hoping that something will come to her. Is he... he looks almost like a monk. His breathing is so even, his posture straight... and eventually, for lack of any better idea or inspiration, knowing she must eventually do something...]
... What are you doing?
[Her voice is muffled slightly by the pillow, her remaining eye only barely visible, peeking over the plush edge of it where her face remains half-buried.]
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He has to tug his attention back to the room, and his eyes open slowly, like he's emerging from some great depth. It's worth being distracted, though, just to see Hayame peeking over the pillow.]
Meditating... I do it every morning. Ever tried it?
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But the bed is warm. And comfortable. And if she is here, and no one else might see her, unlike in the stables…]
Not like that.
[Before a hunt she tried to focus herself… perhaps occasionally what she attempted to do in archery training could count as a meditation, but… nothing that long or that peaceful looking. It seemed different.]
Are you a monk as well as a king… ?
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[Though he can see why she'd think so. He had to do it in secret in Fódlan, since it wasn't exactly a normal part of the Church of Seiros' acts of prayer or worship. Certain people would start asking certain questions.]
I do it every morning. I probably should've remembered to tell you in advance, though, sorry.
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[She'd warned him that she would need to roll over in the night because it would disturb him, but... This wasn't disturbing anyone. ... It's not bothering her. He'd looked... perhaps almost like praying, but not quite. (Though what did she know about praying? Real praying.)
If she falls silent... She will have to get out of bed. And if she gets out of bed, she will have to leave. So-]
... What do you meditate over?
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[Just as he preferred the natural world to gods or the dogma that people ascribe to them. He gets to his feet, picking up the cushions he'd been sitting on.]
Pretty much all Almyrans rise with the sun, whether you're from the steppe, the desert, or the cities. It's a little harder here when the sun never fully goes down, but it's always a habit I've stuck to.
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[The right frame of mind... Things to be grateful for. The shrine priests spoke of everything having a spirit... The trees, the rocks, the mountains, the rain... It's not like she had a choice, but if she had to choose between the shrine priests or the temple monks... She preferred the priests. Maybe if she'd lived there long enough, if she'd had the chance... the Great Mountain that Matsukaze prayed to would have come to make sense.]
... I usually rise with the sun.
[But for some reason, today... She hadn't. It is almost embarrassing, in a way, and yet... If she just stays where she is, with her face still half-buried in his pillows...]
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Well, you don't have to today. Take your time.
[He moves to sit beside her again, the mattress creaking gently.]
It's not perfect, but it beats sleeping in a stall, right?
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- She does not expect him to come back and sit beside her. She feels almost small for a moment, despite her larger size, with how she's still on her side and as curled up as a jinba was capable of being. Her first instinct is to grumble, to accuse him of mocking her, but. ... She does not think he is. Not that way.]
... I never said that it was more comfortable in a stall.
[She'd said... that jinba belonged there. It's not like she didn't know... that a proper house...
Her eye averts. Her dark hair falls partially into her face.]
Liem Talbott means for me to take the house he built in Alenroux.
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[He stops himself short, even while he's visibly startled. He'd already talked to Liem before and knew that he didn't bear a grudge for what she did, but to build and offer her a house after all of that is nothing short of remarkable.]
Uh, never mind. What will you do? Are you going to accept it?
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It could be many things. Even after she'd killed him for betraying Meridian? Even after she had condemned him in Communion alongside the other traitors as not worth trying to rescue or return to the fold? Even after she had run into him in Alenroux and demanded he leave, grabbed him, shook him, called him a traitor, demanded to know why he hadn't come to her if he felt weak, why he hadn't trusted in her strength-]
He is Meridian again.
[How she knows that, since when it had happened... She seems to almost say, and yet. She does not volunteer it so quickly or easily. When it comes to the house...]
... I no longer have any reason to refuse.
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You can't just... He can't just...
[Are they both content to act like what transpired under the Tree is just a thing of the past, or is there more to it than that? He shakes his head and reaches to touch her shoulder.]
Tell me what happened. Please.
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Despite herself, she begins to look... ready to be offended. Ready to be blamed for something. She shouldn't be laying down for a conversation like this, but to try and haul herself awkwardly up now-]
He was still coming to Alenroux to work on the house despite going to Zenith. I confronted him. ... I cleansed his Discord. I brought him back.
[Even though she'd said that anyone who turned traitor was useless to pursue. That they could never be trusted again.]
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...You two really care about each other.
[Despite Liem's perceived betrayal, and despite what Hayame had done to him in turn. It's surprising, but also, in a twisted way, a kind of relief, to know that someone cares for her to that extent. That someone would still offer that much to her after their own death.]
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So she says the parts she can more easily say.
She doesn't know why Claude's smile looks sad. (She doesn't know why she dislikes that he takes his hand off her shoulder.)]
... I have known Liem Talbott since I first was ripped to Horos.
[Did that explain it well enough? No, she knows that it doesn't. Her expression twists with frustration, struggling to be... anything close to open.]
He saw... what I'd done. In that space before hatching.
[Claude would remember. That strange field of space between worlds before they woke up in Horos, where their memories and pasts flickered and could be seen by anyone else. The place where they'd had to choose between the call of the shadows or the light. (He'd remember, too... the things she'd tried to throw in his face as proof that she was unlovable, that she had done things too unforgivable to deserve affection or any sort of normal relationship.)]
But he told me... that I had to keep moving. He waited for me.... He waited until I could choose the path of the light.
[And those words, that guidance, when she had wept and thought herself better of dead, the way he'd patiently stood there until she was able to believe him just enough to think that maybe she deserved more than the embrace of shadows and darkness...
Maybe that was care. Even if she hadn't wanted it. Even if he hadn't asked her to decide she owed him a debt.]
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He has more respect for the man, now. He also understands, too, why Liem's choice to turn toward Zenith would feel like such a personal betrayal, that she would feel she has no choice but to kill him, even as she refused to abandon his Shard. He's under no illusion that he would be shown mercy either, should Claude himself turn toward Zenith. Slowly, the puzzle pieces are falling into place.]
You should accept his gift. [He slowly lays down on the pillow next to her, so that they're eye-to-eye once more, and he cups her cheek.] You did deserve to walk into the light back then, and you deserve somewhere you can live in comfort.
[Liem also deserved to live, but he bites back his disapproval. It's done, and Liem has since returned. The rest isn't his affair to meddle with.]
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