[all that byleth does at the returning jabs is smile, never uttering a word. dimitri speaks the truth that he has grown much stronger, but she has also seen him when he fights and has been able to see the errors that leave him open and vulnerable.]
[she, too, takes a sword from the rack and puts down the items on her person that would otherwise detract from her movements.]
Yes, let's see.
[these are the words she offers him before they begin their training. she takes a moment to give him a few pointers on his stance, on his hold of the sword, and the general movements he implements when swinging the blade. soon enough it is time for them to spar, and although a lot more challenging than five years ago, it sure looks like...]
[...dimitri is with his back on the ground, the training sword's tip at his throat, and byleth's boot on his chest.]
[she breathes heavily from the exertion, looking down at him with a sly, little smile.]
[He had cultivated a reputation for taking down multiple targets by himself. They would fling himself at him, one at a time, driven by desperation, and he would shear past their armor, crush his enemies in the order they offered themselves up to him. In many cases, driven by anger, it had been easy in those not-so-far-off days. And while not bolstered by rage today, his skill remains, and his confidence in a fight is relatively unshakeable.
Unless squaring off against Byleth, apparently.
She reads him so… easily. Knows of his weaknesses that he overcompensates for — the blindness in his right eye, therefore shifting defensive anytime she goes for that side — and takes advantage of them without hesitation. It is like nothing has changed between them; like for a moment, he is still seventeen and eagerly learning, while she teaches him with the confidence of someone far more apt.
And defeats him just as soundly, too.]
Hngh-!
[That’s the only noise that escapes him as his back crashes into the ground, sword slipping from his hands. Any attempt to sit up is quelled by her boot pressed against his chest, and Dimitri looks up at her, surprised.
She stands there, sweat glistening on her features, face framed by seafoam hair, smiling down at him. He is dumbfounded (moonstruck) by the way the sun casts itself against her; it reminds him of when she cleaved through space itself, touched by the goddess, landing before them with such a power at her back.
Dimitri was momentarily speechless then, and there’s something inscrutable about this sight that renders him useless now. So, eloquently—]
Y-yes. I think you have made your victory obvious. My confidence was… it was ill-placed.
[He turns his head, eye suddenly unable to rest on her face. That brick in the side of that wall sure is interesting. The flush in his cheeks is surely from the overexertion of their spar.]
[she offers with a smile as she pulls the sword away from biting at his neck. taking a step back, she offers her hand to help get him back on his feet. his concurrent reactions towards the situation are not something she puts too much stock on, halfway familiar with how defeat can make one feel like they cannot look their opponent in the eye.]
[pride was a friend of hers when she was younger, thinking she could take on her father with ease.]
Your stance did improve significantly, though.
[up he goes, and byleth pats him at the back in an effort to remove the dirt there. pride she no longer needed, when her heart was filled with things that took more import now, like her students.]
I look forward to the day when I will learn from you.
[He takes that offered hand, helped up to his feet, though for a lingering moment his gaze lands everywhere except her face. His own feels so warm now, and he has to fight against the urge to look like a fool and cup both of his hands against his cheeks as if to calm himself.
Instead, he clears his throat, then realizes he’s left his sword on the ground. Ducking low while she dusts him off, it gives him a moment to adjust his thoughts while he grabs its hilt.]
I think that will be a long time from now after that display.
[A long time before he might overcome her in a real spar, far beyond these coming months, beyond the scope of the war. A thought that brings him pause. He had wondered what Byleth might do once all the bloodshed is finally over, once peace hopefully settles itself across the land. There are so many empty seats of influence to fill, perhaps she might take one of them, or will she continue mercenary work, or disappear into the background of history to live and long and quiet life next to some lake, fishing her days away?
He wonders, oddly, why that bothers him. Maybe it’s the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, but Dimitri feels compelled to ask, and to ask now.]
Actually, do you mind if I ask you something? About the future, should we ever see an end to this wretched war.
[byleth waits for dimitri, ready to ask him if he's up for another round of sparring, but finds instead that he's asked her a question of a situation she had barely considered since waking up and gathering everyone back at the monastery. they have been through a lot of twists and turns during this way, it's at this point—undeniable the fact that the war will come to an end, perhaps sooner than expected.]
[it gives her pause, and while the consideration that they may all part ways puts a heavy stone in her stomach and makes her feel nervous.]
We will see an end to it.
[it's what comfort she can bring, to herself and to others, but her words are somewhat tight. she nods, however, urging him to continue.]
[For all that he should recognize the tightness in her words, Dimitri is equal parts straightforward and oblivious. It is hard to speak of the war and the future beyond it, so he merely chalks it up to the anxiety they all share. He knows, when it is all through, a coronation awaits him — he will official bear the title of King and all that it entails, one more responsibility that he cannot step away from, weighted on his shoulders. There is no rest for him when this is all through, and many of his comrades will experience something similar.
But he does not know of her desires. Thinking of days fast approaching where she might not be near is… troublesome to him.
Dimitri straightens, and when he looks at her this time, the excitement of their fight has drained out of him, replaced by something searching and somber.]
What will you do when it is over? I know that you used to—
[She used to be a mercenary, traveling with Captain Jeralt across all of Fódlan. He cannot bring himself to say it, but maybe the implications hang there anyhow.]
…I know that you used to live a life that was unbound by the grip of any nation, or the politics paired with them. Will you return to that life, Professor?
[she knows what dimitri asks, and she hates to see the somber look his expression takes on, like he's being haunted by whatever answer he expects to get. it's true that her life was nothing but that of a nomad, a mercenary questing for riches and fights. now, however, it's different—so much different, even if she cannot pinpoint what exactly has changed to make her breathe so uneasily about any idea that would force her to change from her current path.]
[she considers, then, the to-be king, and sighs softly.]
I don't think I can.
[is what she ultimately resolves her answer to be. there is much that she has learned about herself. about sothis. about what her role will be in the church of seiros. seteth does remind her constantly of it and how her fate is intrinsically bound to it.]
[byleth's answer seems to be lacking something, however, like a real want for it. perhaps like it's something imposed on her and she sees no other path out of this obligation.]
[Her reply is listless, and it’s hard for him to take any comfort in knowing that she will not revert back to a wandering, ambulatory lifestyle. Because in the wake of I don't think I can, Dimitri believes he might hear the rest of it. She does not know, does she? Or perhaps she feels she has no choice but to tend to all that's fallen into her lap over time.
He has heard the rumblings of her obligations attaching her to this place. Regardless if they can locate Lady Rhea or not, even Dimitri can see that she has ties to Garreg Mach that may exist beyond his own understanding. She has gained Seteth’s trust, and in turn, Seteth trusts her with much. Would remaining here be the easiest option for her?
Maybe that’s the wrong question to ask. What does she want to do?]
…What do you believe you would be happiest doing, then? If you could choose, without the opinion of others — because you can.
[She could cut ties from it all. She is the sort where none could stop her if she put her mind to it, and not even Dimitri could convince her otherwise.]
[dimitri rephrases and byleth finds herself stumbling back in prepared, cautious answers. much as she knows others care for her, her opinion was sought after because of her expertise and power. little has there ever been much consideration for her own thoughts on a more personal scope.]
[and dimitri speaks in such a way that makes it seem easy and more than perfectly fine for her opinion to be unlike what is expected.]
[she doesn't find her voice, and after a paused moment she speaks up again.]
I want to be with everyone. I don't want to lose this.
['this' — this feeling of home, of familiarity, of friends. of being wanted and respected, but most of all, loved. selfish as her wishes may be, these are truly her own.]
[…Oh. Even if Dimitri were not deeply, dizzyingly fond of Byleth, that admission would tug at his sentimental heartstrings. He understands as much as he can relate. Though their circumstances were crafted from war, and they’ve lost so much between them, there is unshakeable solidarity between all that fight with him. They are more than friends — their bonds are like steel, tested time and again in battle, and thus far, they have not failed him.
He does not wish to give that up, either, though he has no choice. He knows that many will go their separate ways if the war is won — Dimitri to his castle, every noble to their respective Houses to tend to their territories and responsibilities. Personal wants and desires that can finally be allowed to thrive after all is said and done.
Dimitri wishes he could tell her that things will always be the way they are. Here, in the monastery, all of them close, wanted, trusting. He went five years without that foundation in his life, and it scares him, too, to potentially let go of it. But he must accept the reality of change because much is expected of him in the future.
Still, he can offer all that he can, extend a figurative hand the same way she reached out for his own.]
Neither do I. But I do not think any of us can change the direction in which time and circumstances may pull us. [He feels his heart clench, and the words come unbidden.] However, maybe you can align your path with my own? Like I had said to you once, back in the—
[The Goddess Tower, ah, maybe that’s… well, he backpedals.]
…What I mean to say is that you can return with me to Fhirdiad, if you wish. Your presence will be sorely needed if you are not to remain in Garreg Mach.
[she nods at his words, at his understanding of the circumstances they'll both be in. she won't be the only one who will lose this feeling of community, stationed at the monastery as they are. there is, however, a flicker of recognition when dimitri starts speaking more—personally.]
[her eyes widen momentarily, the memory of the goddess tower, five years ago, resurfacing for her as well.]
With you.
[she repeats... to clarify. then byleth blinks once, twice—and she looks up at him.]
I have long pants.
[for the cold, she means. and although the answer seems rather devoid of any indication of, well, any relevance to the offer imposed, it does speak of her willingness and enthusiasm towards the idea.]
[He watches change flit across her normally stoic expression, oddly... hoping against hope that she might accept. It would be nice to have her close, the one person that has centered his life around wanting to do better, instead of strangling himself with the memories of the dead. Dimitri still feels like his journey will be incomplete after the war, and as he told her once before, it is comforting to have her at his side.
But Byleth always throws him for a loop. Long pants... what. Is that a yes or a no?]
[she clarifies without putting much stock on the question, or how much of a dumbass dimitri really is. ah, her star pupil. byleth does, at least, try to clarify with an easy hand motion.]
For the cold.
Do you wish to see them?
[this is the kind of twist this conversation isn't expected to take, but truth be told, the invitation has her feeling a little lightheaded and a lot relieved. who would say no to the king of fhirdiad if he made a decision about things now?]
[Leave his single brain cell alone. It isn’t his fault that Byleth skips over several steps in a conversation, making him struggle to find the abandoned context clues! He tries.
For the cold, though— Oh.]
I... yes, if you wish to show them to me.
[This is good, right? Wait, hold on.]
For the Faerghus winters, correct? Does that mean you will agree to go?
[byleth already sets a brisk pace towards the dormitories, stopping only when dimitri questions her again for clarification. the look she gives him is somewhat puzzled, as if it's somehow crazy that it's not clear enough that she wishes to go with him? must she really spell it out?]
[a flush enraptures her cheeks as she nods.]
I want to go with you, Dimitri.
[in case she needs to clarify the whole 'you' being singular you, not plural you...]
[and she turns again, hurrying over towards the dormitories yet again.]
[Byleth must be trying to kill him with words like that, because they catch him so off-guard, making his heart still in his chest. Coupled with that look she gives him (is her face tinged with pink?), he lingers where he stands for a moment too long, turning the simple statement around in his head; he wants to go with him? Specifically? Or, despite her clarification, did she meant that the idea of going to Fhirdiad pleases her?
His nerves tingle with wayward… excitement. It falls over him in a wave, and Goddess, suddenly he feels seventeen again and watching her depart, he has to force his own feet to move else he stands gawking for too long. It's a miracle he manages to put his sword away before they leave the area.
The rational, reasonable part of his brain tells him, as he lengthens his strides to catch up with her, that this feeling is the same as five years ago — a revelation that warrants an “oh no” somewhere deep in his thought process, having once believed it dead and buried after his stint as a vagrant killed off all other emotion.
He’s starting to think he believed wrong.
Swallowing thickly, Dimitri continues following until they near the dormitories.]
That way you will know that I am more than ready for the cold.
[she skips up the two steps which lead up to her dormitory. many of these rooms are no longer in use, their previous occupants no longer part of the militia that runs in the monastery. regardless of the fact, byleth swings the doors open to her room and heads inside, fetching through her draws to pick out and unfold what would be ... pants.]
[turning around, she presents them to him, fitting in black.]
I have more of these, too. Laundry day will not be a problem.
[Dimitri finds himself hovering at the entrance of her open door; despite the tea parties she’s thrown in her room before, it feels odd for him to encroach when she’s rifling around in her drawers.
Or maybe now he’s just overly aware of... propriety.]
I like them.
[What else is there to say? He does. She would look good in all black pants.
Dimitri clears his throat.]
Though... Faerghus winters are quite unkind. You would have to prepare yourself with more than just a few pairs of long pants, Professor.
[she does realize that, but she also figures that long pants would be a start, separate from her usual combination of shorts and boots. it is only after dimitri's approval that she folds the pants back and sets them aside on the table, before considering his advice.]
What would you recommend?
[a tilt of her head follows, because while she has her own ideas, why not hear from someone with actual experience on the matter?]
[she pauses in consideration, nodding at his words. pants, gloves, and a cloak. she wonders where she can get any of the latter two that would be good enough for withstanding that kind of inclement weather while they remain in the warmer lands of fodlan.]
I will have to make sure I get all those items you've recommended, then. [—although] I doubt I can find a cloak like yours. It's specially tailored, isn't it?
[The crest of Faerghus, placed across the back of his inordinately long royal blue cloak, is proof of that. Though it often remains obscured beneath the fur draped over the top of the cloth.
He pauses, then decides to be bold enough to step into her room. Dimitri smiles faintly at her.]
It should not be difficult to commission one similar to this one. We could match.
[she repeats quietly, curiously, mostly to herself. she doesn't mind dimitri stepping inside; the invitation was always there, and his presence is now a source of comfort, now that the worst of storms have passed and he has returned to what his former self was like, despite the skeletons clutching tight onto the cloak that drags after him.]
[byleth likes the idea, too. of matching.]
You won't get cold? [questioning this momentarily, she takes a step forward towards him. a hand on his shoulder presses down onto the gray and black fur.] I think it's a bit too big for me. [a raise of her eyebrows.] Just a bit, though.
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finalflight2019-11-15 01:54 am
no subject
[she, too, takes a sword from the rack and puts down the items on her person that would otherwise detract from her movements.]
Yes, let's see.
[these are the words she offers him before they begin their training. she takes a moment to give him a few pointers on his stance, on his hold of the sword, and the general movements he implements when swinging the blade. soon enough it is time for them to spar, and although a lot more challenging than five years ago, it sure looks like...]
[...dimitri is with his back on the ground, the training sword's tip at his throat, and byleth's boot on his chest.]
[she breathes heavily from the exertion, looking down at him with a sly, little smile.]
Do you concede defeat?
1/2
Unless squaring off against Byleth, apparently.
She reads him so… easily. Knows of his weaknesses that he overcompensates for — the blindness in his right eye, therefore shifting defensive anytime she goes for that side — and takes advantage of them without hesitation. It is like nothing has changed between them; like for a moment, he is still seventeen and eagerly learning, while she teaches him with the confidence of someone far more apt.
And defeats him just as soundly, too.]
Hngh-!
[That’s the only noise that escapes him as his back crashes into the ground, sword slipping from his hands. Any attempt to sit up is quelled by her boot pressed against his chest, and Dimitri looks up at her, surprised.
She stands there, sweat glistening on her features, face framed by seafoam hair, smiling down at him. He is dumbfounded (moonstruck) by the way the sun casts itself against her; it reminds him of when she cleaved through space itself, touched by the goddess, landing before them with such a power at her back.
Dimitri was momentarily speechless then, and there’s something inscrutable about this sight that renders him useless now. So, eloquently—]
You… ah…
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Y-yes. I think you have made your victory obvious. My confidence was… it was ill-placed.
[He turns his head, eye suddenly unable to rest on her face. That brick in the side of that wall sure is interesting. The flush in his cheeks is surely from the overexertion of their spar.]
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[she offers with a smile as she pulls the sword away from biting at his neck. taking a step back, she offers her hand to help get him back on his feet. his concurrent reactions towards the situation are not something she puts too much stock on, halfway familiar with how defeat can make one feel like they cannot look their opponent in the eye.]
[pride was a friend of hers when she was younger, thinking she could take on her father with ease.]
Your stance did improve significantly, though.
[up he goes, and byleth pats him at the back in an effort to remove the dirt there. pride she no longer needed, when her heart was filled with things that took more import now, like her students.]
I look forward to the day when I will learn from you.
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Instead, he clears his throat, then realizes he’s left his sword on the ground. Ducking low while she dusts him off, it gives him a moment to adjust his thoughts while he grabs its hilt.]
I think that will be a long time from now after that display.
[A long time before he might overcome her in a real spar, far beyond these coming months, beyond the scope of the war. A thought that brings him pause. He had wondered what Byleth might do once all the bloodshed is finally over, once peace hopefully settles itself across the land. There are so many empty seats of influence to fill, perhaps she might take one of them, or will she continue mercenary work, or disappear into the background of history to live and long and quiet life next to some lake, fishing her days away?
He wonders, oddly, why that bothers him. Maybe it’s the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, but Dimitri feels compelled to ask, and to ask now.]
Actually, do you mind if I ask you something? About the future, should we ever see an end to this wretched war.
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[it gives her pause, and while the consideration that they may all part ways puts a heavy stone in her stomach and makes her feel nervous.]
We will see an end to it.
[it's what comfort she can bring, to herself and to others, but her words are somewhat tight. she nods, however, urging him to continue.]
What do you wish to know?
no subject
But he does not know of her desires. Thinking of days fast approaching where she might not be near is… troublesome to him.
Dimitri straightens, and when he looks at her this time, the excitement of their fight has drained out of him, replaced by something searching and somber.]
What will you do when it is over? I know that you used to—
[She used to be a mercenary, traveling with Captain Jeralt across all of Fódlan. He cannot bring himself to say it, but maybe the implications hang there anyhow.]
…I know that you used to live a life that was unbound by the grip of any nation, or the politics paired with them. Will you return to that life, Professor?
no subject
[she considers, then, the to-be king, and sighs softly.]
I don't think I can.
[is what she ultimately resolves her answer to be. there is much that she has learned about herself. about sothis. about what her role will be in the church of seiros. seteth does remind her constantly of it and how her fate is intrinsically bound to it.]
[byleth's answer seems to be lacking something, however, like a real want for it. perhaps like it's something imposed on her and she sees no other path out of this obligation.]
no subject
He has heard the rumblings of her obligations attaching her to this place. Regardless if they can locate Lady Rhea or not, even Dimitri can see that she has ties to Garreg Mach that may exist beyond his own understanding. She has gained Seteth’s trust, and in turn, Seteth trusts her with much. Would remaining here be the easiest option for her?
Maybe that’s the wrong question to ask. What does she want to do?]
…What do you believe you would be happiest doing, then? If you could choose, without the opinion of others — because you can.
[She could cut ties from it all. She is the sort where none could stop her if she put her mind to it, and not even Dimitri could convince her otherwise.]
1/2
[dimitri rephrases and byleth finds herself stumbling back in prepared, cautious answers. much as she knows others care for her, her opinion was sought after because of her expertise and power. little has there ever been much consideration for her own thoughts on a more personal scope.]
[and dimitri speaks in such a way that makes it seem easy and more than perfectly fine for her opinion to be unlike what is expected.]
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[she doesn't find her voice, and after a paused moment she speaks up again.]
I want to be with everyone. I don't want to lose this.
['this' — this feeling of home, of familiarity, of friends. of being wanted and respected, but most of all, loved. selfish as her wishes may be, these are truly her own.]
no subject
He does not wish to give that up, either, though he has no choice. He knows that many will go their separate ways if the war is won — Dimitri to his castle, every noble to their respective Houses to tend to their territories and responsibilities. Personal wants and desires that can finally be allowed to thrive after all is said and done.
Dimitri wishes he could tell her that things will always be the way they are. Here, in the monastery, all of them close, wanted, trusting. He went five years without that foundation in his life, and it scares him, too, to potentially let go of it. But he must accept the reality of change because much is expected of him in the future.
Still, he can offer all that he can, extend a figurative hand the same way she reached out for his own.]
Neither do I. But I do not think any of us can change the direction in which time and circumstances may pull us. [He feels his heart clench, and the words come unbidden.] However, maybe you can align your path with my own? Like I had said to you once, back in the—
[The Goddess Tower, ah, maybe that’s… well, he backpedals.]
…What I mean to say is that you can return with me to Fhirdiad, if you wish. Your presence will be sorely needed if you are not to remain in Garreg Mach.
no subject
[her eyes widen momentarily, the memory of the goddess tower, five years ago, resurfacing for her as well.]
With you.
[she repeats... to clarify. then byleth blinks once, twice—and she looks up at him.]
I have long pants.
[for the cold, she means. and although the answer seems rather devoid of any indication of, well, any relevance to the offer imposed, it does speak of her willingness and enthusiasm towards the idea.]
no subject
But Byleth always throws him for a loop. Long pants... what. Is that a yes or a no?]
You... have long pants?
[He... looks down at her legs. No she doesn’t.]
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[she clarifies without putting much stock on the question, or how much of a dumbass dimitri really is. ah, her star pupil. byleth does, at least, try to clarify with an easy hand motion.]
For the cold.
Do you wish to see them?
[this is the kind of twist this conversation isn't expected to take, but truth be told, the invitation has her feeling a little lightheaded and a lot relieved. who would say no to the king of fhirdiad if he made a decision about things now?]
no subject
For the cold, though— Oh.]
I... yes, if you wish to show them to me.
[This is good, right? Wait, hold on.]
For the Faerghus winters, correct? Does that mean you will agree to go?
no subject
[a flush enraptures her cheeks as she nods.]
I want to go with you, Dimitri.
[in case she needs to clarify the whole 'you' being singular you, not plural you...]
[and she turns again, hurrying over towards the dormitories yet again.]
no subject
His nerves tingle with wayward… excitement. It falls over him in a wave, and Goddess, suddenly he feels seventeen again and watching her depart, he has to force his own feet to move else he stands gawking for too long. It's a miracle he manages to put his sword away before they leave the area.
The rational, reasonable part of his brain tells him, as he lengthens his strides to catch up with her, that this feeling is the same as five years ago — a revelation that warrants an “oh no” somewhere deep in his thought process, having once believed it dead and buried after his stint as a vagrant killed off all other emotion.
He’s starting to think he believed wrong.
Swallowing thickly, Dimitri continues following until they near the dormitories.]
So you are going to show me your… pants?
[Somewhere, Sylvain is probably laughing.]
no subject
[she skips up the two steps which lead up to her dormitory. many of these rooms are no longer in use, their previous occupants no longer part of the militia that runs in the monastery. regardless of the fact, byleth swings the doors open to her room and heads inside, fetching through her draws to pick out and unfold what would be ... pants.]
[turning around, she presents them to him, fitting in black.]
I have more of these, too. Laundry day will not be a problem.
no subject
Or maybe now he’s just overly aware of... propriety.]
I like them.
[What else is there to say? He does. She would look good in all black pants.
Dimitri clears his throat.]
Though... Faerghus winters are quite unkind. You would have to prepare yourself with more than just a few pairs of long pants, Professor.
no subject
What would you recommend?
[a tilt of her head follows, because while she has her own ideas, why not hear from someone with actual experience on the matter?]
no subject
Thick gloves, for instance, else your fingers will go numb within the first five minutes of standing outside. Your sword hand will be useless.
[A shoulder shrugs to punctuate the fur draped at his collar, wreathed in warmth.]
A cloak much like this one will also not go astray.
no subject
[she pauses in consideration, nodding at his words. pants, gloves, and a cloak. she wonders where she can get any of the latter two that would be good enough for withstanding that kind of inclement weather while they remain in the warmer lands of fodlan.]
I will have to make sure I get all those items you've recommended, then. [—although] I doubt I can find a cloak like yours. It's specially tailored, isn't it?
no subject
[The crest of Faerghus, placed across the back of his inordinately long royal blue cloak, is proof of that. Though it often remains obscured beneath the fur draped over the top of the cloth.
He pauses, then decides to be bold enough to step into her room. Dimitri smiles faintly at her.]
It should not be difficult to commission one similar to this one. We could match.
[Aha. He’s fond of that idea, for some reason.]
Though perhaps you could borrow mine until then?
no subject
[she repeats quietly, curiously, mostly to herself. she doesn't mind dimitri stepping inside; the invitation was always there, and his presence is now a source of comfort, now that the worst of storms have passed and he has returned to what his former self was like, despite the skeletons clutching tight onto the cloak that drags after him.]
[byleth likes the idea, too. of matching.]
You won't get cold? [questioning this momentarily, she takes a step forward towards him. a hand on his shoulder presses down onto the gray and black fur.] I think it's a bit too big for me. [a raise of her eyebrows.] Just a bit, though.
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