[In true Bernadetta fashion, she's kicking herself as soon as the words leave her mouth. That was too much, too gloomy, too dark; what kind of twisted weirdo just up and says something like 'oh, what if we've gotten dragged into a magic people farm?'
Stupid, stupid Bernie.]
Just, um.
[It feels so weird, to say this to somebody she can't remember ever properly meeting before. Somebody she might have fought against, if she ended up surviving just a little longer.]
Just... b-be careful? I... guess?
[She knits her fingers together again, then glances down at them in a stuttered, uncertain moment, and her guilt at making things even more awkward threatens to swallow her whole, for a moment.
So, in true Bernadetta fashion, she blurts out the next thing to cross her mind, to change the course of this downer of a conversation.]
D-Do you! Um... Do you... want to, uh, try it? To, um, see how m-much they get from... s-simple things.
[No, not stupid Bernie. She's almost too clever and Claude is always one to plan for worst case scenarios. He's going to be mulling that over for a long time yet, thanks Bernie. But there's a looming tension that needs to be broken and he's considering making some sort of joke, something about always being careful-
And then she makes that offer. His brows shoot up in surprise that he can't hide, a startled little sound that might be a scoff or might be a laugh escaping him.]
Wha-? Figure I should be the last person you want to run tests with but...
[He glances around, shaking his head a little and giving her a look that clearly says not here. But then he turns, offers his arm like a proper gentleman (possibly the first time he's been proper.... ever) and nods towards the door. They can test and get the hell out of here at the same time.]
[Fair enough; it's not totally paranoia if you aren't sure they aren't out to get you.]
I-I'm sorry, that... that was a bad idea, wasn't it?! ...way too forward, completely untoward, rude...
[She falls into a series of self-castigating mumbles, but a lifetime of reluctantly absorbed etiquette training kicks in, and her hand is lightly curled in the crook of his arm apparently without her actual intent or acknowledgement.
When he moves, she'll follow in step, but he'll need to get her attention back if he wants to continue their doom and gloom spitballing.]
[He pats her hand gently, leads her out into the city and immediately directs them towards a less densely packed area nearby, where ever there aren't going to be too many ears listening or too many eyes on them to make her more nervous.]
No, Bernadetta, it was a good idea.
[A glance over his shoulder.]
Just probably not the place to talk about all the horrible things they might be planning to do to us, y'know?
[He keeps his hand over hers, holding her hand to his arm as they walk, both to comfort and to... see what this whole synchrony thing does with just a little casual contact like this.]
Mmm... it's one thing to discuss the... common objectives of governments in general but speculating too far into the more despicable things they could plan for us, eventually, is probably more than the average person is going to think of. Especially when we're so likely to be watched. And watched carefully.
Part of me wants to protest doing this synchrony thing at all but it seems a bit like it's.... too ingrained in the whole process to completely avoid. Or maybe they just want us to think that?
[The hand is distracting, because that was never in the etiquette instructions. It implied a level of basic consideration and esteem she rarely received back then. Ferdinand has done this for her before, of course, because he’s something out of the most sterling courtly tale come to life, but it’s hard to really put Claude in the same mental box as Ferdinand von Aegir for... a variety of reasons, really.
Still, what he just said is enough to snap her attention back to him and she blinks up with large, puzzled eyes.]
Um, is it? I’ve gone entire years without touching or being touched by... anybody at all, really. As long as they don’t, um, don’t tie us up or something, it... doesn’t seem that hard? Though, um, the messages are... a little bit annoying.
[And this would be where the average person would be absolutely horrified. Shocked and appalled at the level of neglect that implied of someone of their young age, worried for her well-being perhaps.
Yet Claude simply nods as though it is both expected and perfectly reasonable. Years without being touched, at least in a positive way, yeah. He gets that. The rest of the Deer were pretty affectionate, save Lorenz and his godsforsaken propriety, but until Teach came back he was up to his eyeballs in bureaucracy and hardly ever got to see them, especially when it wasn't Lorenz or Hilda coming to a Roundtable Conference to represent their Lord. (Oh and he's certain Holst was thrilled when he got to make Hilda go in his stead.)]
Yeah if it's something more... uh... intimate, sure, but the way they talk about it seems like just... being near people, having some sort of connection with another person, is enough to do at least a little bit.
[Like even now there's something that he can't quite define, something it would be easy to dismiss as his usual fascination with new puzzles and mysteries were he not actively looking for it and, to his surprise, even removing his hand from covering hers there's still just... almost a little hum of background noise.]
[The hidden price of a position of power: sometimes you're literally untouchable, rather than just metaphorically.
She shifts as they stroll, but her hand doesn't pull away from his arm; there's a thrumming, almost magnetic undertone to that little connection, and it's nice and understatedly pleasant in a way that's both thrilling and a bit scary to somebody who usually hides away.
The thought of what it would feel like if they weren't wearing gloves prickles at the corner of her brain, and she crushes it immediately but unsuccessfully at the sheer impropriety.]
That's... weird.
[Her tone is slow, and thoughtful.]
Is that...
[She falls silent, beneath the murmur of the other pedestrians and the tap of their boots on the pavement. But, Claude has been unusually supportive of her usual paranoid ramblings, so she screws her courage together and tries, anyways.]
Do you think that... that might be why we remember things differently? To, um. To have at least a little bit of a connection, I-I mean. Like... l-like how, um, how you recognized me, but I... couldn't.
[It's hard for Claude not to just pick up with more conspiracy theories. Not that he doesn't want to hear what her thoughts are just that it's difficult for him to silence his own mind. Still he bites his tongue, literally in fact, until she collects whatever was meant to come after that aborted question.]
It might be why everyone remembers things differently... so there's less animosity between those of us from different countries. But I'm not sure if that goes so far as...
[He trails off with a little smirk, giving her a look that is clearly playful but also teasing a little. It's fine, Bernie. It's cool. You don't have to remember him. Not like he's important or anything, gosh.]
[This is a powder keg of rampant imagination and paranoia ready to blow, and they're both the equivalent of those joke candles that only burn brighter when you try to blow them out.]
Well, n-no, I didn't... I didn't mean less animosity. One of us would, um, one of us would remember me joining you o-or you joining Edelgard, if that was the case. I, um, I meant... this weird sort of mystery.
[She gestures between them, discretely.]
It, well, it's... it's compelling. Like, how a plot twist in a novel brings characters together. Trying... trying to figure this out is literally bringing us together, right now.
[But then she catches up with his trailing implication and she gives him an affronted, wide-eyed look, cheeks slightly puffed into a pout and more than slightly red.]
H-Hey! I... I could've recognized you later!
[Nah.]
...o-or, if I had heard you drawing your bow, I-I definitely would! I ran away from the training fields any time it sounded like they were occupied, and p-people have... have really distinct shooting styles!
[Literally bringing them together. It's a good point. Dammit why did she hide in her room all the time?? She's good at this shit.
Of course the very idea of him joining Edelgard makes him laugh before he can stop himself, a loud, abrupt burst of laughter that he is quick to quiet into more of a chuckle, still teasing, carefully avoiding commenting on any of that.]
Later! You thought I was Grandad! [But he's grinning wildly even as he gives her grief for it. Clearly not upset at all. The comment about shooting styles makes him pause though, surprised.]
I was gonna say that's just because Failnaught's huge but... that was before I had it. You could really tell that?
[She hid in her room precisely because she was too good at this sort of thing, and surrounded by powerful and dangerous people.]
N-No! I just... thought you were trying to trick me!
[Which is... better?
She rubs her cheek, glancing away, but nods slowly regardless.]
I... y-yeah. Um, I knew what Leonie's bow sounded like, and, uh.
[She purses her mouth.]
You, uh, you waxed and tuned your string in the Almyran style, right? Which, well... um, it makes sense. Looking back. With, uh. Relevant facts now known.
[Namely him having clear Almyran heritage.]
I-It's got a certain pitch to the release. If, um, if you've... got an ear for that sort of thing.
[Okay he'll buy recognizing Leonie's bow technique, the power she put into her shots was impressive.... and painful. She was so used to working with short bows for hunting that he cringed every time she drew on a long bow, just waiting for it to snap. Girl is too powerful for her own good.
Ignatz she'd probably never even hear the string, just the thunk of the arrow hitting the target. It was a little eerie. But him? There wasn't anything-
As soon as she says it "makes sense" she'll be able to feel a subtle shift in the tension in his arm beneath her hand, that subtle pleasant resonance of the synchrony silencing instantly, like a bubble popping. There one moment, gone the next instant. As pleasant as all of this has been the sync isn't really something that can be maintained when there's nothing but panic screeching through his mind, regardless of how carefully neutral he keeps his expression, his body language. As though he can just freeze everything in the moment before she spoke.]
Relevant facts? What're you talking about, Bernadetta?
[There's still an edge of laughter in his voice, dismissive and amused. His expression hasn't changed in the slightest, his body is held a tiny bit tighter but that is the only outward sign of the internal turmoil. If it weren't for the sudden loss of the bond it would probably be enough to fool most people.
[She feels it, but she doesn't register why, exactly. She merely blinks up, a little startled, and tilts her head again. Her own wariness is sparked, but she carefully puzzles through her logic, trying to see what had him so... casually tense.
Like a diligently, Almyran-ly maintained bow, ready to relax or fire at a second's notice.]
Well, somebody in your family is from Almyra, right? So, I figured it makes sense for you to have been taught those techniques, at some point. The Varley Snipers are elite snipers who have collected a lot of techniques over the years, so back in school when I avoided everyone I figured whoever was using those techniques was just really serious or niche about their bow-care but, well...
[Finally, like a door swinging shut on a very empty paddock after the flock has fled, she speaks delicately.]
You're a Duke of the Alliance. If, um, if you... if the technique wasn't important to you, or an old habit, I-I don't, uh... w-well, I don't have a head for politics, but, well, it would've been like Edelgard's father wielding an axe in the style of Brigid. Or, um, or Prince Dimitri using his spear in a Sreng style. That's... well.
[She pauses again, shrugging a little.]
If, um, if other people noticed... they'd bother you about it, right? So. Um, a bow's maintenance is important. So that... that style is particularly important to you. Moreso than other people bothering you about it.
[That's kind of a swing and a miss, but it at least gives him a clear, deep look into just how her mind ticks along about these sort of things.]
But, uh... I-I guess it's a pretty insignificant detail. Come to think of it, most people probably, uh, probably have better things to do than worry a-about other people's training sounds.
[Bernadetta von Varley, let the record show, is a very, very good Sniper. Even if she doesn't think so herself.]
[It's such a tiny detail. Something he'd honestly never thought anyone except maybe Shamir would even be able to identify, never mind notice. And yet here she is laying out every tiny little thing that he did to give himself away, why it was important, and how it was something that could have political ramifications, no matter what she says about her own abilities.
It's a good thing she stammers and expands and just keeps talking because it gives him a little time to try to mentally get his feet under him again, to think. The fact that she trails off and immediately tries to invalidate her own logic when that logic is terrifyingly good is infuriating. On one hand he wants to pull her under his wing in a way he hadn't had the opportunity to back when they were in school. To encourage and develop this brilliant talent of hers.
On the other he absolutely cannot imagine even acknowledging that little bit of a lead she's convinced herself of. They're not even in Fodlan anymore, he hasn't been in Fodlan in weeks but he can't just... tell her she's right. As much as he doesn't want to step on her when she's clearly so talented and too screwed up to realize it (like most of the nobility of Fodlan, really). Much as he hates it though, he chuckles, reaching over to pat her hand on his arm in a manner that is distinctly condescending.
It makes him sick to do this to her but he can't just let her go around convinced he has some sort of connection to Almyra.]
That's a hell of a theory. I get the logic leaps, sorta? But... you're reading way too much into it. It was just something I picked up near the border and... it was easier to do from a wyvern if I needed to.
[Claude shrugs, giving her a helpless look, like she'd actually lost him somewhere along the way. Play the fool, act dumb. It's fine. ]
I hadn't even realized it was something specifically Almyran? I dunno, Shamir helped me perfect the technique.
[The fuck she did but it would make sense for her to know it and be more familiar with it since she'd been teaching Cyril at the time too.]
[Her voice dwindles down, and she doesn't so much as wilt as she does curl in on herself, habitually, like a tiny hedgehog at the suspicion of a predator. Like a curtain dropping with practiced ease. Like a carnivorous plant closing its jaws after feeding time, silent and inert.
He'll feel the faint, previously unbroken strum of her end of the Synchronicity suddenly halt.]
Stupid, stupid Bernie... don't get carried away, he probably thinks you're crazy now, who even bothers with things like that...!
[Her shoulders sag, and her gaze stays rooted on her boots.]
I-I guess I read too many stories. I, um. The... my family were the Ministers of Religion, and, um, we... there were a lot of restricted b-books, at home. So, um, I... there were some translated foreign folktales, that, uh, that seemed to fit with the techniques, a-and, um, with the wyverns...
...
I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't... just... I'm. I'm bad at leaping to c-conclusions, sometimes. ...m-most times. I. I thought I was getting better, but, um... I-I guess I still have work to do! So. Sorry again.
[Goddess above, do not let her cry right now. They are in public.]
[Watching her curl in on herself is a punch in the gut and Claude honestly has to struggle to keep the guilt out of his expression. Gods he's so tired of this. Of all the lies piling up. And it's so much harder now, having had those few precious weeks to set so much of that burden down. He sighs heavily, shifting around to face her, tucking them both into the shade of a shop's awning, largely out of the way of the flow of traffic.
Translated foreign folktales.
Stars does she know Almyran? Ugh!! It's so infuriating and he waffles back and forth for a long moment. He actually paces in a circle, one hand twisting in dark curls before he rounds on her again, squeezing her shoulders and leaning down to try to get her to actually meet his gaze.]
Hey, hey... Bernadetta it's okay, you didn't do anything wrong. It's sound logic okay?
[He doesn't have the stomach to stand here and watch her berate herself over his own lies. Not when, in his timeline those lies mean nothing. Not when they're on a different planet where no one knows what Fodlan is, never mind Almyra.]
Besides, like you said... it's not as though a Fodlish leader can just... go around... doing stuff like that.
[He can't say it Bernie. No matter how damaged she looks, no matter how guilty he feels he can't just say the words. He can't just-
But maybe he doesn't have to, not really. He thinks back to that conversation he'd had with Hibiki back on the Space Station. About words and translations and-]
Don't beat yourself up so much, خاتون
[He honestly has no idea if it's going to get translated by whatever magic resides in the gems or if intent is the important part. But... well... it's as close to a confession as he can get and even saying that much makes his stomach roll unpleasantly, some part of him still expecting the same violent backlash he's gotten his whole life for being an outsider. No. No if Bernadetta decides to act on it, it won't be here and now. It would be something later, something more subtle, something that makes him question what poisons exist now in this new world.]
[He steers her off and doesn’t so much corner her as he does circle her, and she’d normally be terrified he was leading her off for a murder attempt but...
He looks torn. Desperate, almost, and worry strangles fear, for the moment. It takes her a long moment to catch his meaning, the implication, the offhanded term that flies firmly in the face of his denials.]
K... Kh... xātūn.
[This is the difference being on the other side of the mountains and having the Alliance and Kingdom as a buffer make: what comes from Brigid is barbaric, and what comes from Almyra is exotic, if it’s old or intricate enough. She hadn’t been able to learn so much as a syllable of Petra’s mother tongue before meeting her, and her father had forced her to focus on more ‘maidenly’ talents, but she knows a few things. Most of it is translated, but when you have about fifty finely inked and gilded collections of ancient love poetry mounted like trophies in the family library that company wasn’t invited into until it was time to posture and gloat, you at least manage to pick up the word for lady.
She’s careful, like the word is fragile in her mouth. Her first attempt is flat, faltering, and her second sounds better but very much like somebody going off of a phonetic cheat sheet: technically correct, but lacking the fluid cadence of someone who really knows how to turn a phrase without help. But she knows at least one more off the cuff, and does her best not to mangle it as she tentatively trots it out.]
...I, um. I’m probably not someone who understands that very well nnna... naji- نجیبزاده. Since, um, well! I... I sided with the Fodlish leader who used a bunch of taboos as stepping stones, a-after all.
[She had mentioned the previous emperor in the same breath as him and Dimitri, tellingly.
Speaking of breaths, she takes a deep one and tries very hard not to let her gaze skitter away from him, because this is... this is a hurt she’s looking at, even if she doesn’t recognize the full size or shape of it yet. And Bernadetta is sometimes cowardly and often timid, she’s suspicious and flighty, but unless she’s on the battlefield and under orders she doesn’t have it in her to want to hurt someone.
The faint, tentative thrum of an almost-Synchrony fizzes back up from her end, and neither of them understand the real significance of that in the moment, but it will surely give a new undertone when they look back to this moment in the weeks and months to come.]
...b-but, um, for the record... origins aren’t supposed to matter, in the Empire Edelgard wanted us to build. Just, um. Just results. And, um. A-And... even Fodlish leaders aren’t just Fodlish leaders. They’re... they’re people, too. With fears and... and pasts and things that are important to them, not... not just important for Fodlan.
[So... it doesn't translate when you try to genuinely focus on speaking it in the language intended. Just knowing that is good information to have, even if it twists his insides into knots. There's a thousand ways this could backfire, and it's hard for him to focus on her actual reaction, no matter how carefully he's watching her, while his mind is spiraling down at least a dozen different paths that all end in disaster. Not just for him but for all of them. For Fodlan or for Almyra or just for the Golden Deer.
It's nauseating, honestly. Which is why there's a sharp edge of something panicked and almost hysterical in the laugh that escapes him with that honorific. A single bark of laughter punched out of him like a physical blow. His hands slide away from her shoulders and he staggers back a step to slump against the corner of the building they're standing in front of.
The absolute last person he'd expect to be openly willing to even consider accepting his past is one of Edelgard's closest. Well, no, anyone associated with the church would be far less forgiving. Gods, even Cyril had thrown his attempts at bridging that gap between them back in his face.]
Bernadetta...
[It sounds almost as helpless as he feels and he hates himself for it. He flounders, still. There's no way for him to respond to most of what she says without further implicating himself and the idea of just... talking about it is enough to make his blood run cold. He feels like a cornered animal and while usually that would end up with someone getting bitten now he has no one to blame but himself and the urge to just flee is so strong.]
Well, Edelgard... she should have known that you can't just cut off people's connection to religion in an instant and expect them to accept it without a fight. If she'd been more patient...
[Edelgard, yes. She was the only thing in any of what Bernadetta said that is safe to respond to, even though he'd been trying so hard not to get into political debates with anyone. At least that was something he knew, something comfortable, something that didn't make his heart race and panic close tight around his lungs.
It's a visible change, quick and clean and smooth as can be. A frightened young man stepping back into the role of Duke Riegan like pulling on a familiar suit. A neat collecting of himself, all the frayed edges wound up tight and tucked back behind careful masks. Criticizing Edelgard's methodology, if not her motives, a familiar topic.
As much as it may seem that it's something that closes him off entirely, there's a tentative spark of that power between them once again. Warm and understated, now with a bit of distance between them physically. Something that implies it... may be stronger yet if she were to take his arm again, though infinitely more fragile.]
[Bernadetta genuinely did not expect to be on the opposite end of her own usual levels of panic, anxiety, and possibly even fear, but that tension and that sound and the weak-footed release of the aforementioned tension are all very familiar hallmarks for somebody who averaged at least one breakdown or more every week for most of the school year. Bernadetta herself is more a fan of the "curl into a ball and press your face into your knees while hyperventilating" technique, but everyone has their own tastes.
She reaches out for him, slow, uncertain, but flinches back before she can make contact because he goes and says her name like that.
She has no idea how she, of all people, managed to reduce him to this state. She knows it's her fault somehow, even if they've only been talking, and so she feels responsibility and guilt crush down. But between one blink and the next he masters himself, at least on the surface; it's too swift and even to be a full and natural recovery, they both clearly know that, but sometimes you need to piece yourself together on the outside before the insides even have a chance of knitting back together. She doesn't comment on it, hyperaware that she's been on very, very thin ice for a lot longer than she initially realized.]
I think... she was patient for a long, long time. In, um... in the Edelgard sort of way. I... wasn't really involved in those choices. I mostly just left my room for the wartable meetings, food, supplies, and training. Or, um, to check on my plants.
[Hesitantly, worriedly, she musters up the nerve to... not reach out again, this time, but to settle against the wall beside him, shoulder shifting tentatively to press against his own.
She never enjoys being stared at directly, eye-to-eye, when she's like this. She imagines he might feel a little bit like that, too, right now.]
[He can't help scoffing at the idea that Edelgard was ever patient. For someone like himself that built plans and goals that would take decades to come to fruition, if the ever did in his lifetime at all, any supposed patience Edelgard demonstrated was such a meager attempt it was laughable.
The fact that she moves to give him some illusion of time and privacy to collect the ragged edges of his mask is appreciated. Though it's rather short lived. Her shoulder leans against his own and he nearly gasps aloud, sucking in a sharp breath in surprise. There's a rush of magic there, the subtle spark of synchrony stronger now. Much stronger, something that makes him shudder involuntarily, still unused to the prevalence of magic even after his years in Fodlan.
He looks over at her, watching her reaction, trying to figure out if it had changed that much for her. It's a strange sort of a thrill, warm and pleasant though he's used to any magic coming from an external source not... something that is somehow internal and external at once.]
I... didn't know you like plants? [A weak attempt at continuing the conversation in the vein it had been going before he shakes his head dismissively.] Tell me you feel that.
[If Edelgard was impatient, a lot of dangerous people might have gotten stabbed by a furious and grieving child and then said child would have been snuffed out as well. Or worse.]
Oh, um, yes. I-I always have, ever since I was a kid. Exotic ones and, and carnivorous plants, those ones are my favorites...
[The words trip out of her, rambling, a bit too in depth for his lack of interest, but it's clearly an over-eager attempt to not focus on exactly what he ends up bringing up anyways. The tips of her ears are bright red, where they peek out from her hair, and her cheeks aren't much better.]
......y-yeah, I do. Feel it, I-I mean.
[It isn't an unpleasant feeling, by any means. Bernadetta has never particularly applied herself to the arcane, but she knows resonance when she feels it, by virtue of years spent on bowmanship and music. She can feel whatever's between them humming, bouncing to him back to her back to him in a steady little loop.
Her intrusive thought about what it would feel like without gloves or jackets in the way seems even more embarrassing, now.
[The way she's blushing is adorable and if the situation were different he would be teasing the life out of her for it. As it is there's a faint flush to his own cheeks, mercifully less noticeable on his darker complexion. He closes his eyes, draws in a deep breath, lets it out slow and careful. Daily meditation has given him the ability to be able to look inward, to focus on himself in ways that let him focus now on that positive feedback loop trying to categorize and identify, take the weight and measure of it.]
Have you... ever felt anything like this?
[The words are slow, careful, his eyes still closed, brow furrowed lightly as he puzzles over this new information, new mystery as it were.]
It wasn't like this before.
[He actually is interested in the plant thing, thank you. But they can come back to that. Clearly the synchrony is more important.]
[It's not particularly difficult to fluster her, so at the very least when he's feeling less vulnerable there will be plenty of opportunities to tease her over it later.]
Never.
[She says that with surprising firmness, but it's easy to keep track of sudden intense good feelings when you usually muddle along in solitude or varying levels of stressing out.]
It, um... I-I guess... I guess, the more you connect with someone, maybe, maybe, um, the... more it is?
[A thought occurs to her, belated.]
Oh. We, um, should... we should've looked at our balances, first, h-huh?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2021-01-22 02:21 pm (UTC)Stupid, stupid Bernie.]
Just, um.
[It feels so weird, to say this to somebody she can't remember ever properly meeting before. Somebody she might have fought against, if she ended up surviving just a little longer.]
Just... b-be careful? I... guess?
[She knits her fingers together again, then glances down at them in a stuttered, uncertain moment, and her guilt at making things even more awkward threatens to swallow her whole, for a moment.
So, in true Bernadetta fashion, she blurts out the next thing to cross her mind, to change the course of this downer of a conversation.]
D-Do you! Um... Do you... want to, uh, try it? To, um, see how m-much they get from... s-simple things.
no subject
Date: 2021-01-22 03:01 pm (UTC)And then she makes that offer. His brows shoot up in surprise that he can't hide, a startled little sound that might be a scoff or might be a laugh escaping him.]
Wha-? Figure I should be the last person you want to run tests with but...
[He glances around, shaking his head a little and giving her a look that clearly says not here. But then he turns, offers his arm like a proper gentleman (possibly the first time he's been proper.... ever) and nods towards the door. They can test and get the hell out of here at the same time.]
no subject
Date: 2021-01-22 03:08 pm (UTC)I-I'm sorry, that... that was a bad idea, wasn't it?! ...way too forward, completely untoward, rude...
[She falls into a series of self-castigating mumbles, but a lifetime of reluctantly absorbed etiquette training kicks in, and her hand is lightly curled in the crook of his arm apparently without her actual intent or acknowledgement.
When he moves, she'll follow in step, but he'll need to get her attention back if he wants to continue their doom and gloom spitballing.]
no subject
Date: 2021-01-22 03:41 pm (UTC)No, Bernadetta, it was a good idea.
[A glance over his shoulder.]
Just probably not the place to talk about all the horrible things they might be planning to do to us, y'know?
no subject
Date: 2021-01-22 03:54 pm (UTC)[She jolts slightly, jarred from her little spiral, and blinks up at him.]
I-It was?
[So much uncertainty, in so few words.]
...oh. Um, y-you're right. I mean, they... probably guess that a lot of us won't trust them, but, um, knowing e-exactly who... would be bad. ...right?
no subject
Date: 2021-01-23 04:46 am (UTC)[He keeps his hand over hers, holding her hand to his arm as they walk, both to comfort and to... see what this whole synchrony thing does with just a little casual contact like this.]
Mmm... it's one thing to discuss the... common objectives of governments in general but speculating too far into the more despicable things they could plan for us, eventually, is probably more than the average person is going to think of. Especially when we're so likely to be watched. And watched carefully.
Part of me wants to protest doing this synchrony thing at all but it seems a bit like it's.... too ingrained in the whole process to completely avoid. Or maybe they just want us to think that?
no subject
Date: 2021-01-23 05:51 pm (UTC)[The hand is distracting, because that was never in the etiquette instructions. It implied a level of basic consideration and esteem she rarely received back then. Ferdinand has done this for her before, of course, because he’s something out of the most sterling courtly tale come to life, but it’s hard to really put Claude in the same mental box as Ferdinand von Aegir for... a variety of reasons, really.
Still, what he just said is enough to snap her attention back to him and she blinks up with large, puzzled eyes.]
Um, is it? I’ve gone entire years without touching or being touched by... anybody at all, really. As long as they don’t, um, don’t tie us up or something, it... doesn’t seem that hard? Though, um, the messages are... a little bit annoying.
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Date: 2021-01-25 03:22 pm (UTC)Yet Claude simply nods as though it is both expected and perfectly reasonable. Years without being touched, at least in a positive way, yeah. He gets that. The rest of the Deer were pretty affectionate, save Lorenz and his godsforsaken propriety, but until Teach came back he was up to his eyeballs in bureaucracy and hardly ever got to see them, especially when it wasn't Lorenz or Hilda coming to a Roundtable Conference to represent their Lord. (Oh and he's certain Holst was thrilled when he got to make Hilda go in his stead.)]
Yeah if it's something more... uh... intimate, sure, but the way they talk about it seems like just... being near people, having some sort of connection with another person, is enough to do at least a little bit.
[Like even now there's something that he can't quite define, something it would be easy to dismiss as his usual fascination with new puzzles and mysteries were he not actively looking for it and, to his surprise, even removing his hand from covering hers there's still just... almost a little hum of background noise.]
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Date: 2021-01-25 05:09 pm (UTC)She shifts as they stroll, but her hand doesn't pull away from his arm; there's a thrumming, almost magnetic undertone to that little connection, and it's nice and understatedly pleasant in a way that's both thrilling and a bit scary to somebody who usually hides away.
The thought of what it would feel like if they weren't wearing gloves prickles at the corner of her brain, and she crushes it immediately but unsuccessfully at the sheer impropriety.]
That's... weird.
[Her tone is slow, and thoughtful.]
Is that...
[She falls silent, beneath the murmur of the other pedestrians and the tap of their boots on the pavement. But, Claude has been unusually supportive of her usual paranoid ramblings, so she screws her courage together and tries, anyways.]
Do you think that... that might be why we remember things differently? To, um. To have at least a little bit of a connection, I-I mean. Like... l-like how, um, how you recognized me, but I... couldn't.
[No, Bernie, that one's entirely on you.]
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Date: 2021-01-26 07:47 pm (UTC)conspiracytheories. Not that he doesn't want to hear what her thoughts are just that it's difficult for him to silence his own mind. Still he bites his tongue, literally in fact, until she collects whatever was meant to come after that aborted question.]It might be why everyone remembers things differently... so there's less animosity between those of us from different countries. But I'm not sure if that goes so far as...
[He trails off with a little smirk, giving her a look that is clearly playful but also teasing a little. It's fine, Bernie. It's cool. You don't have to remember him. Not like he's important or anything, gosh.]
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Date: 2021-01-26 08:02 pm (UTC)Well, n-no, I didn't... I didn't mean less animosity. One of us would, um, one of us would remember me joining you o-or you joining Edelgard, if that was the case. I, um, I meant... this weird sort of mystery.
[She gestures between them, discretely.]
It, well, it's... it's compelling. Like, how a plot twist in a novel brings characters together. Trying... trying to figure this out is literally bringing us together, right now.
[But then she catches up with his trailing implication and she gives him an affronted, wide-eyed look, cheeks slightly puffed into a pout and more than slightly red.]
H-Hey! I... I could've recognized you later!
[Nah.]
...o-or, if I had heard you drawing your bow, I-I definitely would! I ran away from the training fields any time it sounded like they were occupied, and p-people have... have really distinct shooting styles!
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Date: 2021-01-26 08:25 pm (UTC)Of course the very idea of him joining Edelgard makes him laugh before he can stop himself, a loud, abrupt burst of laughter that he is quick to quiet into more of a chuckle, still teasing, carefully avoiding commenting on any of that.]
Later! You thought I was Grandad! [But he's grinning wildly even as he gives her grief for it. Clearly not upset at all. The comment about shooting styles makes him pause though, surprised.]
I was gonna say that's just because Failnaught's huge but... that was before I had it. You could really tell that?
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Date: 2021-01-26 08:38 pm (UTC)N-No! I just... thought you were trying to trick me!
[Which is... better?
She rubs her cheek, glancing away, but nods slowly regardless.]
I... y-yeah. Um, I knew what Leonie's bow sounded like, and, uh.
[She purses her mouth.]
You, uh, you waxed and tuned your string in the Almyran style, right? Which, well... um, it makes sense. Looking back. With, uh. Relevant facts now known.
[Namely him having clear Almyran heritage.]
I-It's got a certain pitch to the release. If, um, if you've... got an ear for that sort of thing.
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Date: 2021-01-26 09:10 pm (UTC)Ignatz she'd probably never even hear the string, just the thunk of the arrow hitting the target. It was a little eerie. But him? There wasn't anything-
As soon as she says it "makes sense" she'll be able to feel a subtle shift in the tension in his arm beneath her hand, that subtle pleasant resonance of the synchrony silencing instantly, like a bubble popping. There one moment, gone the next instant. As pleasant as all of this has been the sync isn't really something that can be maintained when there's nothing but panic screeching through his mind, regardless of how carefully neutral he keeps his expression, his body language. As though he can just freeze everything in the moment before she spoke.]
Relevant facts? What're you talking about, Bernadetta?
[There's still an edge of laughter in his voice, dismissive and amused. His expression hasn't changed in the slightest, his body is held a tiny bit tighter but that is the only outward sign of the internal turmoil. If it weren't for the sudden loss of the bond it would probably be enough to fool most people.
Most people.]
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Date: 2021-01-26 09:27 pm (UTC)Like a diligently, Almyran-ly maintained bow, ready to relax or fire at a second's notice.]
Well, somebody in your family is from Almyra, right? So, I figured it makes sense for you to have been taught those techniques, at some point. The Varley Snipers are elite snipers who have collected a lot of techniques over the years, so back in school when I avoided everyone I figured whoever was using those techniques was just really serious or niche about their bow-care but, well...
[Finally, like a door swinging shut on a very empty paddock after the flock has fled, she speaks delicately.]
You're a Duke of the Alliance. If, um, if you... if the technique wasn't important to you, or an old habit, I-I don't, uh... w-well, I don't have a head for politics, but, well, it would've been like Edelgard's father wielding an axe in the style of Brigid. Or, um, or Prince Dimitri using his spear in a Sreng style. That's... well.
[She pauses again, shrugging a little.]
If, um, if other people noticed... they'd bother you about it, right? So. Um, a bow's maintenance is important. So that... that style is particularly important to you. Moreso than other people bothering you about it.
[That's kind of a swing and a miss, but it at least gives him a clear, deep look into just how her mind ticks along about these sort of things.]
But, uh... I-I guess it's a pretty insignificant detail. Come to think of it, most people probably, uh, probably have better things to do than worry a-about other people's training sounds.
[Bernadetta von Varley, let the record show, is a very, very good Sniper. Even if she doesn't think so herself.]
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Date: 2021-01-26 10:12 pm (UTC)It's a good thing she stammers and expands and just keeps talking because it gives him a little time to try to mentally get his feet under him again, to think. The fact that she trails off and immediately tries to invalidate her own logic when that logic is terrifyingly good is infuriating. On one hand he wants to pull her under his wing in a way he hadn't had the opportunity to back when they were in school. To encourage and develop this brilliant talent of hers.
On the other he absolutely cannot imagine even acknowledging that little bit of a lead she's convinced herself of. They're not even in Fodlan anymore, he hasn't been in Fodlan in weeks but he can't just... tell her she's right. As much as he doesn't want to step on her when she's clearly so talented and too screwed up to realize it (like most of the nobility of Fodlan, really). Much as he hates it though, he chuckles, reaching over to pat her hand on his arm in a manner that is distinctly condescending.
It makes him sick to do this to her but he can't just let her go around convinced he has some sort of connection to Almyra.]
That's a hell of a theory. I get the logic leaps, sorta? But... you're reading way too much into it. It was just something I picked up near the border and... it was easier to do from a wyvern if I needed to.
[Claude shrugs, giving her a helpless look, like she'd actually lost him somewhere along the way. Play the fool, act dumb. It's fine. ]
I hadn't even realized it was something specifically Almyran? I dunno, Shamir helped me perfect the technique.
[The fuck she did but it would make sense for her to know it and be more familiar with it since she'd been teaching Cyril at the time too.]
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Date: 2021-01-26 10:22 pm (UTC)[Her voice dwindles down, and she doesn't so much as wilt as she does curl in on herself, habitually, like a tiny hedgehog at the suspicion of a predator. Like a curtain dropping with practiced ease. Like a carnivorous plant closing its jaws after feeding time, silent and inert.
He'll feel the faint, previously unbroken strum of her end of the Synchronicity suddenly halt.]
Stupid, stupid Bernie... don't get carried away, he probably thinks you're crazy now, who even bothers with things like that...!
I-I, um, I'm sorry. Shamir's technique s-sounds... a-a lot different, s-so, um... I...
[Her shoulders sag, and her gaze stays rooted on her boots.]
I-I guess I read too many stories. I, um. The... my family were the Ministers of Religion, and, um, we... there were a lot of restricted b-books, at home. So, um, I... there were some translated foreign folktales, that, uh, that seemed to fit with the techniques, a-and, um, with the wyverns...
...
I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't... just... I'm. I'm bad at leaping to c-conclusions, sometimes. ...m-most times. I. I thought I was getting better, but, um... I-I guess I still have work to do! So. Sorry again.
[Goddess above, do not let her cry right now. They are in public.]
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Date: 2021-01-27 04:54 am (UTC)Translated foreign folktales.
Stars does she know Almyran? Ugh!! It's so infuriating and he waffles back and forth for a long moment. He actually paces in a circle, one hand twisting in dark curls before he rounds on her again, squeezing her shoulders and leaning down to try to get her to actually meet his gaze.]
Hey, hey... Bernadetta it's okay, you didn't do anything wrong. It's sound logic okay?
[He doesn't have the stomach to stand here and watch her berate herself over his own lies. Not when, in his timeline those lies mean nothing. Not when they're on a different planet where no one knows what Fodlan is, never mind Almyra.]
Besides, like you said... it's not as though a Fodlish leader can just... go around... doing stuff like that.
[He can't say it Bernie. No matter how damaged she looks, no matter how guilty he feels he can't just say the words. He can't just-
But maybe he doesn't have to, not really. He thinks back to that conversation he'd had with Hibiki back on the Space Station. About words and translations and-]
Don't beat yourself up so much, خاتون
[He honestly has no idea if it's going to get translated by whatever magic resides in the gems or if intent is the important part. But... well... it's as close to a confession as he can get and even saying that much makes his stomach roll unpleasantly, some part of him still expecting the same violent backlash he's gotten his whole life for being an outsider. No. No if Bernadetta decides to act on it, it won't be here and now. It would be something later, something more subtle, something that makes him question what poisons exist now in this new world.]
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Date: 2021-01-27 05:32 am (UTC)He looks torn. Desperate, almost, and worry strangles fear, for the moment. It takes her a long moment to catch his meaning, the implication, the offhanded term that flies firmly in the face of his denials.]
K... Kh... xātūn.
[This is the difference being on the other side of the mountains and having the Alliance and Kingdom as a buffer make: what comes from Brigid is barbaric, and what comes from Almyra is exotic, if it’s old or intricate enough. She hadn’t been able to learn so much as a syllable of Petra’s mother tongue before meeting her, and her father had forced her to focus on more ‘maidenly’ talents, but she knows a few things. Most of it is translated, but when you have about fifty finely inked and gilded collections of ancient love poetry mounted like trophies in the family library that company wasn’t invited into until it was time to posture and gloat, you at least manage to pick up the word for lady.
She’s careful, like the word is fragile in her mouth. Her first attempt is flat, faltering, and her second sounds better but very much like somebody going off of a phonetic cheat sheet: technically correct, but lacking the fluid cadence of someone who really knows how to turn a phrase without help. But she knows at least one more off the cuff, and does her best not to mangle it as she tentatively trots it out.]
...I, um. I’m probably not someone who understands that very well nnna... naji- نجیبزاده. Since, um, well! I... I sided with the Fodlish leader who used a bunch of taboos as stepping stones, a-after all.
[She had mentioned the previous emperor in the same breath as him and Dimitri, tellingly.
Speaking of breaths, she takes a deep one and tries very hard not to let her gaze skitter away from him, because this is... this is a hurt she’s looking at, even if she doesn’t recognize the full size or shape of it yet. And Bernadetta is sometimes cowardly and often timid, she’s suspicious and flighty, but unless she’s on the battlefield and under orders she doesn’t have it in her to want to hurt someone.
The faint, tentative thrum of an almost-Synchrony fizzes back up from her end, and neither of them understand the real significance of that in the moment, but it will surely give a new undertone when they look back to this moment in the weeks and months to come.]
...b-but, um, for the record... origins aren’t supposed to matter, in the Empire Edelgard wanted us to build. Just, um. Just results. And, um. A-And... even Fodlish leaders aren’t just Fodlish leaders. They’re... they’re people, too. With fears and... and pasts and things that are important to them, not... not just important for Fodlan.
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Date: 2021-01-27 05:45 pm (UTC)It's nauseating, honestly. Which is why there's a sharp edge of something panicked and almost hysterical in the laugh that escapes him with that honorific. A single bark of laughter punched out of him like a physical blow. His hands slide away from her shoulders and he staggers back a step to slump against the corner of the building they're standing in front of.
The absolute last person he'd expect to be openly willing to even consider accepting his past is one of Edelgard's closest. Well, no, anyone associated with the church would be far less forgiving. Gods, even Cyril had thrown his attempts at bridging that gap between them back in his face.]
Bernadetta...
[It sounds almost as helpless as he feels and he hates himself for it. He flounders, still. There's no way for him to respond to most of what she says without further implicating himself and the idea of just... talking about it is enough to make his blood run cold. He feels like a cornered animal and while usually that would end up with someone getting bitten now he has no one to blame but himself and the urge to just flee is so strong.]
Well, Edelgard... she should have known that you can't just cut off people's connection to religion in an instant and expect them to accept it without a fight. If she'd been more patient...
[Edelgard, yes. She was the only thing in any of what Bernadetta said that is safe to respond to, even though he'd been trying so hard not to get into political debates with anyone. At least that was something he knew, something comfortable, something that didn't make his heart race and panic close tight around his lungs.
It's a visible change, quick and clean and smooth as can be. A frightened young man stepping back into the role of Duke Riegan like pulling on a familiar suit. A neat collecting of himself, all the frayed edges wound up tight and tucked back behind careful masks. Criticizing Edelgard's methodology, if not her motives, a familiar topic.
As much as it may seem that it's something that closes him off entirely, there's a tentative spark of that power between them once again. Warm and understated, now with a bit of distance between them physically. Something that implies it... may be stronger yet if she were to take his arm again, though infinitely more fragile.]
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Date: 2021-01-27 06:59 pm (UTC)She reaches out for him, slow, uncertain, but flinches back before she can make contact because he goes and says her name like that.
She has no idea how she, of all people, managed to reduce him to this state. She knows it's her fault somehow, even if they've only been talking, and so she feels responsibility and guilt crush down. But between one blink and the next he masters himself, at least on the surface; it's too swift and even to be a full and natural recovery, they both clearly know that, but sometimes you need to piece yourself together on the outside before the insides even have a chance of knitting back together. She doesn't comment on it, hyperaware that she's been on very, very thin ice for a lot longer than she initially realized.]
I think... she was patient for a long, long time. In, um... in the Edelgard sort of way. I... wasn't really involved in those choices. I mostly just left my room for the wartable meetings, food, supplies, and training. Or, um, to check on my plants.
[Hesitantly, worriedly, she musters up the nerve to... not reach out again, this time, but to settle against the wall beside him, shoulder shifting tentatively to press against his own.
She never enjoys being stared at directly, eye-to-eye, when she's like this. She imagines he might feel a little bit like that, too, right now.]
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Date: 2021-01-28 11:19 am (UTC)The fact that she moves to give him some illusion of time and privacy to collect the ragged edges of his mask is appreciated. Though it's rather short lived. Her shoulder leans against his own and he nearly gasps aloud, sucking in a sharp breath in surprise. There's a rush of magic there, the subtle spark of synchrony stronger now. Much stronger, something that makes him shudder involuntarily, still unused to the prevalence of magic even after his years in Fodlan.
He looks over at her, watching her reaction, trying to figure out if it had changed that much for her. It's a strange sort of a thrill, warm and pleasant though he's used to any magic coming from an external source not... something that is somehow internal and external at once.]
I... didn't know you like plants? [A weak attempt at continuing the conversation in the vein it had been going before he shakes his head dismissively.] Tell me you feel that.
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Date: 2021-01-28 01:14 pm (UTC)Oh, um, yes. I-I always have, ever since I was a kid. Exotic ones and, and carnivorous plants, those ones are my favorites...
[The words trip out of her, rambling, a bit too in depth for his lack of interest, but it's clearly an over-eager attempt to not focus on exactly what he ends up bringing up anyways. The tips of her ears are bright red, where they peek out from her hair, and her cheeks aren't much better.]
......y-yeah, I do. Feel it, I-I mean.
[It isn't an unpleasant feeling, by any means. Bernadetta has never particularly applied herself to the arcane, but she knows resonance when she feels it, by virtue of years spent on bowmanship and music. She can feel whatever's between them humming, bouncing to him back to her back to him in a steady little loop.
Her intrusive thought about what it would feel like without gloves or jackets in the way seems even more embarrassing, now.
She shivers again.]
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Date: 2021-01-28 03:29 pm (UTC)Have you... ever felt anything like this?
[The words are slow, careful, his eyes still closed, brow furrowed lightly as he puzzles over this new information, new mystery as it were.]
It wasn't like this before.
[He actually is interested in the plant thing, thank you. But they can come back to that. Clearly the synchrony is more important.]
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Date: 2021-01-28 03:35 pm (UTC)Never.
[She says that with surprising firmness, but it's easy to keep track of sudden intense good feelings when you usually muddle along in solitude or varying levels of stressing out.]
It, um... I-I guess... I guess, the more you connect with someone, maybe, maybe, um, the... more it is?
[A thought occurs to her, belated.]
Oh. We, um, should... we should've looked at our balances, first, h-huh?
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