[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?
[He nods along as she says it even if that just makes his resolve not to rely on the government and it's manna production even stronger. If this is the sort of thing that's required to turn a profit here... well he'll be skipping that, thanks. There are a lot of things he's willing to do to get ahead, a lot of things he would give up if necessary. His privacy? His secrets?
Absolutely not.]
Hm? Oh, I know what mine is. It... hasn't changed.
[Because he refuses to use the account given to him just as he refuses to use the apartment they've offered or the vouchers. As soon as he's able to he's going to try to get a phone that isn't registered to his name, though he's aware that one will take longer. He shifts to pull his phone from his pocket and doing so breaks the contact for a moment, leaving him suddenly cold in a way that he hasn't felt since the last time they were in Kingdom territory. A feeling he immediately recoils from, stepping back towards her with a frown.]
Okay... that sucks. [A weak, embarrassed sort of laugh as he glances at her, quickly navigating to the banking app to see what changes have been made.] I don't really know how much things cost? But it seems like it's pretty decent? I think?
Oh. I, um... I've bought food and things. The, uh, the hospital...
[Well, not to be too fussy, but...]
I-I wanted to eat real food.
[Perhaps it's unwary, to depend on the kindness of strangers, but... well, she hadn't believed she had anything to lose. She's radically less sure of that now, thanks to their terrible little think tank, but it's too tempting, to hole up in a nicely provided room with anything she might need or want a simple message and delivery away.
She could squirrel herself away forever...
Except, she needs Manna, because crafting is an expensive hobby, and she's been raised on fine, noble standards for consumption of goods.
That train of thought splinters away from her when he moves, though. Shockingly, she finds herself shifting back towards him in unison, shuddering against the sudden swell of that cold, eerie feeling, like being all alone and exposed at the top of a tower.[
W-Well... that's, um, good to know! If you, uh... um, well, shaking hands when you get to know somebody could, um, could get you a lot of small gains, a-at least...
[Is it awkward, to huddle up with a man who was a stranger to her not twenty minutes ago? ...it is. She's being weird. She should shuffle off and give him his space, she should stop this.
...she doesn't, though.]
Are we, um, even... even allowed to get jobs here? That, uh, aren't... aren't, um. Touching.
[He grimaces slightly at the whole "real food" thing. He hasn't found anywhere willing to let him trade an hour or three of doing dishes for a meal just yet. It's tempting, it'd be so easy to go splurge on something delicious at one of these restaurants along the way.
And yet...]
I don't think a handshake is going to get you much, at all. We've been touching for awhile now and it's not that much.
[Even though she... well... knows now. ]
They're going to have to get a lot more aggressive with their tracking if they want to keep me from earning my own way. [There's a flicker of something hard in his expression, then. Clearly this is very important to him.] But if it helps you out then...
[He trails off with a little shrug, leaning into her a little more to give her shoulder a playful nudge with his arm.]
[Don't ruin her dreams of slugging along with the least amount of extroversion possible, Claude.]
That's—
[She's quiet for a long, long moment. A slow mounting uneasiness reaches a quiet fever pitch, and firms into something a little like resolve.
She stares at her toes.]
Do you... want to know something that, um, that I-I never told anyone, before?
[Hastily, before he can get too excited or worried, she tacks on:]
It's, um, it's not... I don't keep it secret, but, um, I just. I-I mean I guess s-some people might have, um, have cared enough to n-notice? But. I've never, I've never really just... said it. But. But I-I could?
[It's fine, Bernie. That's the benefit of being a shy, lovely young lady. It's cute when she is too nervous to be close to someone. People would be willing to give her space, time... to indulge her a little. The same could not be said for himself and, what's more, he didn't want anyone to make allowances for him either.
Her question catches him off guard, brows immediately lifting as he looks over to her, curious already. But her words remind him to check his fondness for secrets, especially as he realizes she's only offering to attempt to... create some sort of balance, now that he's told her his own secret in a round about way. Claude sighs, turning towards her again, smile wry and apologetic.]
Of course I want to know. That's like asking if the sky's blue or dogs bark. [A soft chuckle, trying to lighten her anxieties a little.]
But I don't want you to force yourself to do something that's gonna give you a panic attack or something. It's not worth it, especially not for a few measly currents.
No, i-it's. It's not, um, it's not for that. It's... more like, about the, uh, 'earning my own way' part?
[She fiddles with her fingers, and tries to put it as bluntly as she can, so he doesn't worry this is bigger than it is.]
I-I use a Brave Bow, now.
[...that, uh, might have been so succinct it became vague, actually. She laces her fingers together and peeks up at him, trying again.]
I-I don't know how much Crestology you know, but that means that... that, um. I-If I get the first shot, it will do what my Crest usually does. But, um, because I use it, I can't... m-my Crest doesn't activate on its own.
[She has a point to this.]
Edelgard... I-I, uh, don't know how much you know about... what she wants. But, um, but a part of it is someday having people be important because of what... b-because of what they can do, not just what they're born with. So.
[She clears her throat a little, her tentative upward gaze beginning to waver a little.]
[He probably knows a hell of a lot more about crestology (and it's source) than she'd expect. Never mind how much he may or may not understand about Edelgard's motivations. It is endlessly frustrating that they have such similar goals but, while he had been trying to plant the seeds of change and encourage that change to happen organically... she chose to simply slaughter anyone that didn't agree with her. The best way to make someone support something, after all, is to let them think it was their own idea.
But hearing the way Bernadetta has adapted to be able to be just as effective despite her crest instead of relying on it makes him smile. He starts to lift a hand, hovers awkwardly for a moment, then rests it on her shoulder with an encouraging little squeeze. And has to take a moment before he actually says anything because the incidental lean is nothing compared to a conscious action to reach out. Maybe it wouldn't be so much if either of them were the type to actually... indulge in small shows of companionship like this on a normal basis.]
That's good... Great. I understand what the Emperor wants. It's not too different from what I want... what I have always disagreed with is just... the methods she's willing to use to get there.
[He sighs heavily, shaking his head a bit, for a moment looking every bit as tired as he feels.] I'm glad you don't have to rely on it.
[All the breath in her lungs whooshes out in one startled little reverse-gasp, at that little squeeze. Somehow, this is radically more intimate than being arm-in-arm, even with their contact limited, and she's not sure if she wants to lean in or run away, full speed ahead. Maybe both at the same time.
She takes in a hiccuping breath and nods, desperately trying to keep her thoughts in order.]
Y... Yeah. It. It's n-not like... well, it won't be much use to me here, right?
[It's... reassuring in some ways, that she's clearly just as effected by the whole thing as he is. The fact that this synchrony thing is enough to make him consider, just for a moment, the merits of giving her a reassuring hug is the breaking point, though. It's too much and too strange and he nods along with what she's saying sure but there's something tight and fearful in his eyes again.]
I don't... [A moment to pull his will around him like a cloak, a couple steady breaths in and out, reaching for that same mindfulness that lets him start his days level headed and at peace.] I don't hug people, Bernadetta.
[A slow exhale and then he takes a step back, hand dropping away from her shoulder, breaking the contact between them entirely, shaking his head a little as though he can convince himself that he doesn't really want to close the distance again.]
[Her voice dwindles to a strangled little squeak.]
Hug?!
[She stumbles back a step too, her face redder and redder than ever as she stares up at him, eyes huge. They're both caught in the triple crossroads of exposure to a new dimension of feeling, the shackles of Fodlish propriety, and a not inconsiderable amount of touch starvation, which perhaps goes a ways to explain how deeply they've been affected, right now.]
Th, that's, um.... I-I d... people don't... I-I mean, Dorothea d-did, once or t-twice? A-At school. But. But I don't, um, I don't... I-I don't get hugged?
[Her fingers knot together, far more agitated than before.]
Yes, but, um... none of us.... none of us seem to remember the same information.
[The words come out, strangely careful and delicate. Her grip slackens a little, as she tries to piece together what she wants to say without screwing this up and winding him up again.]
And, um. I'm... you know. So, who could I tell, even, well, even if I actually wanted to? I don't...
[She purses her lips, and tries really hard to get this next part right.]
I don't think it's right, to... to hurt you over who you are. You've, um, you've never hurt me, and, and you just... [being Almyran] just being you isn't... I-I'm scared a lot of things, a-and people, and... and what they might do to me, or think, or say. And... and it doesn't always make sense. But I'm still sick with fear, a lot of the time. I... I don't want to do that to other people. Not... when I know what it feels like.
[Not right to hurt someone over who they are? Hah. Hilarious. Who he is was the only reason he'd even left home in the first place. If he wasn't a prince he'd be dead for being different, nearly had been a thousand times over, and if he wasn't his mother's son his brothers and cousins wouldn't all want him dead. His entire life being who he is was the single most consistent reason for him to have been hurt.
It's the reason he's spent the past eight years so agonizingly careful about everything he says and does, constantly terrified that the slightest slip will turn the relative safety of Fodlan into just another fire to escape.]
You're not the only one here who should be dead.
[And there's something cold in his voice when he says it, fear and caution and all the years of careful distance and paranoia let him cling to that little sliver of bitterness to help him distance himself again. It's easier now, not touching her, with that connection broken. Difficult as it was to pull away from it the fact that it is so foreign only makes him even more suspicious of it now. As neutral as he tries to keep his expression, though, she's seen enough of the fear and uncertainty behind the mask to recognize it in the slight furrow of his brow, the tightness around his eyes.]
I'd like to think there are bigger concerns at the moment but... sometimes a common enemy can unite even the oldest of foes.
[Fighting Edelgard had brought Holst and Nader together after all. Whose to say that a lying, vicious Almyran in their midst wouldn't be enough to unite Bernadetta and Hubert... and Dimitri... and gods forbid Yuri- It's the sort of thinking that makes his heart ache but it's also the sort of thinking that's kept him alive all this time. The knowledge that anyone and everyone would turn on him with the speed of a cobra's strike if given enough information to know him.]
[The words feel thick on her tongue. Unwieldy. Her throat tightens a little, because she can feel her point faltering midway before it connects, rambling sentences and stammers diverting the right path, falling into the gap between the two of them, the paths they walked, and where they started from.
Still.
Still.
That cold edge jolts her into trying, once more.]
...until I was eighteen, I never—I had never left Varley they, um. They had to litterally drag me to, to the monastery in a sack. So I'm... I'm not good at being a-a patriot. I don't... I never learned to care, th-the way I was supposed to.
[It's a miserable little admission. Early on, something in her snapped, and after that the estate or the town just beyond were the limits of what she would let herself consider her world. Anything past that, and even some things inside it were as close as she came to an 'enemy'. A Faerghan was as scary as a Dagdan. Claude no more threatening than Petra, here and now.]
...
[She takes a deep breath, then reaches up and takes off one of her earrings, holding it out to him.]
...here. This...
[She touches the remaining one, still in place. She has so little left of home, and less still of what was good about home.]
These were one of the last gifts my uncle gave me for when I grew up, when I was little. Before... before he died. Um, if you take it, and hide it, then... then, you can treat it as insurance. If... if I ever want it back, then I can't tell anyone. So... y-you'll be safe from me. ...right?
[in a sack Stars above, what the hells is wrong with her family? The same things that are wrong with all of the old family, his grandfather included. There's a reason his mom left Fodlan.
But she removes that earring and offers it out to him and he holds his hand out to accept it, moving on autopilot, staring down at the delicate jewelry in his hand in surprise. In the Empire something like this, finely crafted, golden and dramatic, eye-catching.... it was a show of wealth, of status, and clearly something that was very important to her, sentimental even.
His own earring was a mark of defiance, rebellion, some twisted way to reclaim the slur he'd heard most often as a child. Outsider, his brothers would call him. Mongrel, if they were feeling exceptionally cruel. In Fodlan they marked him as other, different. No Fodlish man would be caught wearing earrings, and especially not only one.
But Bernadetta offering him this... that would leave her unbalanced, wouldn't it? Only one earring on such a delicate girl and what would people think. The very idea of it makes his stomach drop unpleasantly and he finally blinks up at her, shaking his head in disbelief then, after a moment, more firmly in denial.]
No. Bernadetta I can't- [Gods damn it all. He can't do that to her and the fact that she'd even be willing to offer makes him want to believe her so badly. And maybe... maybe the ache of homesickness makes it that much harder to refuse. That fleeting taste of freedom before dragging all the old masks back out to weigh himself down with. He actually walks away from her, a few swift, hard steps, pacing in a circle once more as though his mind is running too fast for his body to remain still.]
You can't do that. [Frustrated all over again, offering the earring back to her.] You can't just give away something like that.
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no subject
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.]
no subject
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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Date: 2021-01-29 05:23 am (UTC)Absolutely not.]
Hm? Oh, I know what mine is. It... hasn't changed.
[Because he refuses to use the account given to him just as he refuses to use the apartment they've offered or the vouchers. As soon as he's able to he's going to try to get a phone that isn't registered to his name, though he's aware that one will take longer. He shifts to pull his phone from his pocket and doing so breaks the contact for a moment, leaving him suddenly cold in a way that he hasn't felt since the last time they were in Kingdom territory. A feeling he immediately recoils from, stepping back towards her with a frown.]
Okay... that sucks. [A weak, embarrassed sort of laugh as he glances at her, quickly navigating to the banking app to see what changes have been made.] I don't really know how much things cost? But it seems like it's pretty decent? I think?
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Date: 2021-01-29 05:36 am (UTC)[Well, not to be too fussy, but...]
I-I wanted to eat real food.
[Perhaps it's unwary, to depend on the kindness of strangers, but... well, she hadn't believed she had anything to lose. She's radically less sure of that now, thanks to their terrible little think tank, but it's too tempting, to hole up in a nicely provided room with anything she might need or want a simple message and delivery away.
She could squirrel herself away forever...
Except, she needs Manna, because crafting is an expensive hobby, and she's been raised on fine, noble standards for consumption of goods.
That train of thought splinters away from her when he moves, though. Shockingly, she finds herself shifting back towards him in unison, shuddering against the sudden swell of that cold, eerie feeling, like being all alone and exposed at the top of a tower.[
W-Well... that's, um, good to know! If you, uh... um, well, shaking hands when you get to know somebody could, um, could get you a lot of small gains, a-at least...
[Is it awkward, to huddle up with a man who was a stranger to her not twenty minutes ago? ...it is. She's being weird. She should shuffle off and give him his space, she should stop this.
...she doesn't, though.]
Are we, um, even... even allowed to get jobs here? That, uh, aren't... aren't, um. Touching.
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Date: 2021-01-29 11:03 am (UTC)And yet...]
I don't think a handshake is going to get you much, at all. We've been touching for awhile now and it's not that much.
[Even though she... well... knows now. ]
They're going to have to get a lot more aggressive with their tracking if they want to keep me from earning my own way. [There's a flicker of something hard in his expression, then. Clearly this is very important to him.] But if it helps you out then...
[He trails off with a little shrug, leaning into her a little more to give her shoulder a playful nudge with his arm.]
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Date: 2021-02-03 11:10 pm (UTC)[Don't ruin her dreams of slugging along with the least amount of extroversion possible, Claude.]
That's—
[She's quiet for a long, long moment. A slow mounting uneasiness reaches a quiet fever pitch, and firms into something a little like resolve.
She stares at her toes.]
Do you... want to know something that, um, that I-I never told anyone, before?
[Hastily, before he can get too excited or worried, she tacks on:]
It's, um, it's not... I don't keep it secret, but, um, I just. I-I mean I guess s-some people might have, um, have cared enough to n-notice? But. I've never, I've never really just... said it. But. But I-I could?
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Date: 2021-02-03 11:56 pm (UTC)Her question catches him off guard, brows immediately lifting as he looks over to her, curious already. But her words remind him to check his fondness for secrets, especially as he realizes she's only offering to attempt to... create some sort of balance, now that he's told her his own secret in a round about way. Claude sighs, turning towards her again, smile wry and apologetic.]
Of course I want to know. That's like asking if the sky's blue or dogs bark. [A soft chuckle, trying to lighten her anxieties a little.]
But I don't want you to force yourself to do something that's gonna give you a panic attack or something. It's not worth it, especially not for a few measly currents.
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Date: 2021-02-04 12:04 am (UTC)[She fiddles with her fingers, and tries to put it as bluntly as she can, so he doesn't worry this is bigger than it is.]
I-I use a Brave Bow, now.
[...that, uh, might have been so succinct it became vague, actually. She laces her fingers together and peeks up at him, trying again.]
I-I don't know how much Crestology you know, but that means that... that, um. I-If I get the first shot, it will do what my Crest usually does. But, um, because I use it, I can't... m-my Crest doesn't activate on its own.
[She has a point to this.]
Edelgard... I-I, uh, don't know how much you know about... what she wants. But, um, but a part of it is someday having people be important because of what... b-because of what they can do, not just what they're born with. So.
[She clears her throat a little, her tentative upward gaze beginning to waver a little.]
...I-I use a Brave Bow, now.
very nice!
Date: 2021-02-05 05:08 pm (UTC)But hearing the way Bernadetta has adapted to be able to be just as effective despite her crest instead of relying on it makes him smile. He starts to lift a hand, hovers awkwardly for a moment, then rests it on her shoulder with an encouraging little squeeze. And has to take a moment before he actually says anything because the incidental lean is nothing compared to a conscious action to reach out. Maybe it wouldn't be so much if either of them were the type to actually... indulge in small shows of companionship like this on a normal basis.]
That's good... Great. I understand what the Emperor wants. It's not too different from what I want... what I have always disagreed with is just... the methods she's willing to use to get there.
[He sighs heavily, shaking his head a bit, for a moment looking every bit as tired as he feels.] I'm glad you don't have to rely on it.
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Date: 2021-02-06 02:14 am (UTC)She takes in a hiccuping breath and nods, desperately trying to keep her thoughts in order.]
Y... Yeah. It. It's n-not like... well, it won't be much use to me here, right?
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Date: 2021-02-07 12:25 am (UTC)I don't... [A moment to pull his will around him like a cloak, a couple steady breaths in and out, reaching for that same mindfulness that lets him start his days level headed and at peace.] I don't hug people, Bernadetta.
[A slow exhale and then he takes a step back, hand dropping away from her shoulder, breaking the contact between them entirely, shaking his head a little as though he can convince himself that he doesn't really want to close the distance again.]
This isn't right...
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Date: 2021-02-07 12:33 am (UTC)[Her voice dwindles to a strangled little squeak.]
Hug?!
[She stumbles back a step too, her face redder and redder than ever as she stares up at him, eyes huge. They're both caught in the triple crossroads of exposure to a new dimension of feeling, the shackles of Fodlish propriety, and a not inconsiderable amount of touch starvation, which perhaps goes a ways to explain how deeply they've been affected, right now.]
Th, that's, um.... I-I d... people don't... I-I mean, Dorothea d-did, once or t-twice? A-At school. But. But I don't, um, I don't... I-I don't get hugged?
[Her fingers knot together, far more agitated than before.]
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Date: 2021-02-07 01:38 am (UTC)And I don't hug! So... So why the hell did I think-
[Oh no he's implicating himself]
think you n-needed one
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Date: 2021-02-07 01:40 am (UTC)I. Um.
[She looks around, shoulders rising up uncertainly.]
D-Did... you want to? I. Um. I'm...
[She takes a shaky breath.]
M-Maybe it's... because, um, because I'm n-not... not very, um, threatening?
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Date: 2021-02-07 02:11 am (UTC)I don't know. How could I? With... all of... that going on.
[A vague, frustrated and flustered little gesture between them. Something that makes him shift forward just a little bit even if he doesn't mean to.]
Anyone can be threatening if they know the right information.
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Date: 2021-02-07 02:19 am (UTC)[The words come out, strangely careful and delicate. Her grip slackens a little, as she tries to piece together what she wants to say without screwing this up and winding him up again.]
And, um. I'm... you know. So, who could I tell, even, well, even if I actually wanted to? I don't...
[She purses her lips, and tries really hard to get this next part right.]
I don't think it's right, to... to hurt you over who you are. You've, um, you've never hurt me, and, and you just... [being Almyran] just being you isn't... I-I'm scared a lot of things, a-and people, and... and what they might do to me, or think, or say. And... and it doesn't always make sense. But I'm still sick with fear, a lot of the time. I... I don't want to do that to other people. Not... when I know what it feels like.
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Date: 2021-02-07 03:19 am (UTC)It's the reason he's spent the past eight years so agonizingly careful about everything he says and does, constantly terrified that the slightest slip will turn the relative safety of Fodlan into just another fire to escape.]
You're not the only one here who should be dead.
[And there's something cold in his voice when he says it, fear and caution and all the years of careful distance and paranoia let him cling to that little sliver of bitterness to help him distance himself again. It's easier now, not touching her, with that connection broken. Difficult as it was to pull away from it the fact that it is so foreign only makes him even more suspicious of it now. As neutral as he tries to keep his expression, though, she's seen enough of the fear and uncertainty behind the mask to recognize it in the slight furrow of his brow, the tightness around his eyes.]
I'd like to think there are bigger concerns at the moment but... sometimes a common enemy can unite even the oldest of foes.
[Fighting Edelgard had brought Holst and Nader together after all. Whose to say that a lying, vicious Almyran in their midst wouldn't be enough to unite Bernadetta and Hubert... and Dimitri... and gods forbid Yuri- It's the sort of thinking that makes his heart ache but it's also the sort of thinking that's kept him alive all this time. The knowledge that anyone and everyone would turn on him with the speed of a cobra's strike if given enough information to know him.]
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Date: 2021-02-07 03:31 am (UTC)[The words feel thick on her tongue. Unwieldy. Her throat tightens a little, because she can feel her point faltering midway before it connects, rambling sentences and stammers diverting the right path, falling into the gap between the two of them, the paths they walked, and where they started from.
Still.
Still.
That cold edge jolts her into trying, once more.]
...until I was eighteen, I never—I had never left Varley they, um. They had to litterally drag me to, to the monastery in a sack. So I'm... I'm not good at being a-a patriot. I don't... I never learned to care, th-the way I was supposed to.
[It's a miserable little admission. Early on, something in her snapped, and after that the estate or the town just beyond were the limits of what she would let herself consider her world. Anything past that, and even some things inside it were as close as she came to an 'enemy'. A Faerghan was as scary as a Dagdan. Claude no more threatening than Petra, here and now.]
...
[She takes a deep breath, then reaches up and takes off one of her earrings, holding it out to him.]
...here. This...
[She touches the remaining one, still in place. She has so little left of home, and less still of what was good about home.]
These were one of the last gifts my uncle gave me for when I grew up, when I was little. Before... before he died. Um, if you take it, and hide it, then... then, you can treat it as insurance. If... if I ever want it back, then I can't tell anyone. So... y-you'll be safe from me. ...right?
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Date: 2021-02-07 05:00 am (UTC)But she removes that earring and offers it out to him and he holds his hand out to accept it, moving on autopilot, staring down at the delicate jewelry in his hand in surprise. In the Empire something like this, finely crafted, golden and dramatic, eye-catching.... it was a show of wealth, of status, and clearly something that was very important to her, sentimental even.
His own earring was a mark of defiance, rebellion, some twisted way to reclaim the slur he'd heard most often as a child. Outsider, his brothers would call him. Mongrel, if they were feeling exceptionally cruel. In Fodlan they marked him as other, different. No Fodlish man would be caught wearing earrings, and especially not only one.
But Bernadetta offering him this... that would leave her unbalanced, wouldn't it? Only one earring on such a delicate girl and what would people think. The very idea of it makes his stomach drop unpleasantly and he finally blinks up at her, shaking his head in disbelief then, after a moment, more firmly in denial.]
No. Bernadetta I can't- [Gods damn it all. He can't do that to her and the fact that she'd even be willing to offer makes him want to believe her so badly. And maybe... maybe the ache of homesickness makes it that much harder to refuse. That fleeting taste of freedom before dragging all the old masks back out to weigh himself down with. He actually walks away from her, a few swift, hard steps, pacing in a circle once more as though his mind is running too fast for his body to remain still.]
You can't do that. [Frustrated all over again, offering the earring back to her.] You can't just give away something like that.
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