[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.
[He mirrors her expression, just a small lift of a brow that loses itself in the blond stands falling across his forehead. His amusement appears to spark when she rests her hand in the thick fur of his cloak.]
Only a slight amount.
[More than slight — Dimitri has grown in the years since he was a student, and Byleth has remained the same. His cloak would absolutely engulf her, but the mental image is rather intriguing.
Enough that he steps back just enough to remove said cloak. It shrugs off with practiced ease, leaving him only in black armor, and he holds it out to Byleth.]
And no, I am fairly resilient to the cold, cloak or otherwise. Would you like to try it on?
[byleth wonders for a moment about what she should do—the whole situation feels rather warm, friendly in a way that it hasn't quite been before with dimitri. her heartbeat frantic, but not to the point of it being unbearable. her eyes scrutinize the blond before him, before she stands closer.]
It'll be really warm.
[she points out, but is otherwise inclined to try it on.]
I always wondered what it would feel like to wear it.
[It’s a casual air that’s settling between them, one that oddly puts Dimitri at ease, filing down the jagged edges of his nerves from mere minutes ago. He likes being able to speak with her in this way, wishing every moment could be so airy, that there was not a war looming over their heads like a knife about to drop.
It’s nice to pretend, though, that their responsibilities have dissipated, if only for a moment.]
Here.
[She’s standing close (very close, his mind supplies), so it’s easy enough to reach over and wrap the cloak around her shoulders.
It’s so big on her. The fur looks like it might devour her alive, and the bottom pools along the floor. She might as well use it as a blanket instead.]
[it is really big, and she feels like a child enveloped within it. but it's snug, warm, soft, and byleth can't help but look about in wonder as the blue cloak pools around her and easy wraps around her shoulders, leaving a lot more left to go around her still.]
[she closes her eyes, let's this feeling course through her until she feels very, very comfortable with it—her face buries into the fur. until—]
[opening her eyes again, she scans the room and removes her chair from under the desk, and cautiously stands atop it. she towers a bit over dimitri, but not by much. the cloak doesn't reach the ground like this.]
I'll just have to stand on a chair all the time whenever I wear this.
[Byleth appears to be taking to it, looking so small when wrapped up in his cloak. It’s a sight that makes his heart beat erratically for what must be the third time today, and Dimitri is almost sorry that he will have to interrupt her cloak-covered reverie.
But he doesn’t have to. Suddenly, she’s moving, stranding on her chair, and he has to tilt his head up to look at her, blinking.
Then chuckles, light and disbelieving.]
Do you plan on wearing it that often? And even with the chair, you look like you are hiding inside of my cloak, Professor.
[she says, humoring him, unable to find her arms underneath all the soft blue. she pushes past, though, eventually, only to readjust the cloak on her shoulders some, her green mint hair caught on the collar.]
[in a moment, though, she reaches forward and pats his head - like she would to a puppy.]
You've grown a lot, Dimitri. [and an echo, perhaps, to a conversation they had before, five years ago.] I'm happy to hear you laugh again, even if it is at my expense.
[Suddenly her fingers are patting the top of his head, and Dimitri isn’t sure which emotion wins the battle to rise to the surface — a self-consciousness, a strange blossom of affection, or inherent gratitude.
He’s left with an amalgamation of all, and he glances up at her form — her hair, ridiculously entangled with white and black fur — and his blue-eyed gaze becomes more solemn, but grateful.]
If it were not for you, I would not be able to. Laugh, I mean. Or do much else.
[Other than to be lost to the darkness and the voices that accompanied it.]
A part of me thinks that I would not be standing here at all if you had not helped me. So I am grateful that I can enjoy moments like these with you, and even if they are... silly, they are all the more precious because of it.
[she pats his head a moment longer, until she catches up with the notion that he is complimenting her for being partly responsible of him being in better spirits. her eyes soften with a sort of sadness, her hand dropping from his head — not to fall to her side, but rather remain on his shoulder. dimitri has been so guarded, putting layer upon layer on himself in order to fend off not just the cold, but human contact that could otherwise put him at ease.]
[there's the fur of his cloak, then the cold armor. her fingers travel lightly over the shoulder plate, feeling the hard metal over her skin. byleth does not meet his eye, not just yet.]
[she leans down a bit and decidedly takes his hands, for although they are covered in gloves, they feel much warmer than the armor that covers most of him. one must always be battle-ready, of course. the moment she stands straight again, she does look him in the eyes.]
Any moment I spend with you is important to me.
[words have always been... difficult. but she's trying to express properly what she means. dimitri is someone she wishes to cherish, always.]
It is my wish to look after you, not just in battle. To share your pain and your success. [she nods] I would not mind going to Fhirdiad and being at your side.
[All very casual things that are normal to say to one another, yes.
Words that have his chest clenching again. If he had doubted that his feelings now were different than five years ago then... well, he would be right. He had admired her, was awe-struck by her, when he was seventeen. His thoughts often derailed by her beauty when he was supposed to be focusing diligently on a lecture, finding himself so uncharacteristically distracted. He is all of those things now, but five years ago, it was an infatuation that surely would have passed if the war had not existed, if they went their separate ways and he never saw her again.
Now? Now, standing here with her hand clasping his, feeling its warmth... now, he knows that is far stronger, something deeply rooted. Trying to remove it would be like removing a piece of his heart, their bond strengthened so much more by pain and overcoming that pain. The idea of returning to Fhirdiad and to act as Faerghus’ King while she remained elsewhere? He does not believe the passage of time would heal that hurt, not like it would have five years ago.
What a... terrifying thought. What a wonderful thought.
If only he could somehow enunciate that to her without sounding like a fool, without putting too much of himself on the line. Byleth says these things to him, but he wonders if—]
Thank you, Professor. [He’s a fool. He cannot bring himself to ask.] There is no one else that I would so dearly wish to have near, when that time comes.
[He gives her hand a squeeze, with the same pressure he feels around his heart. He looks down at their hands, smiling dimly.]
...you are always so warm, you know. I do not think the cold will be much of a problem at all.
[she offers in return, understanding completely well that getting a cloak wasn't off the table despite dimitri's insight on her being alright in the cold. it's at a moment like this that byleth feels a strength in their connection, a feeling so bold and wonderful, urged forward by the way that he returns the hold of her hands.]
[but these feelings are muddy. she cannot pin down exactly what they are, or what they mean, other than a strong want to protect and to care for and to love.]
[and so, continuing on with a smile, she slowly pulls away from dimitri's hands and undoes the cloak from around her shoulders, carefully holding it in front of her before handing it back to its rightful owner.]
[He takes his cloak back with a faint nod. Already, it scents like her. Dimitri holds it close to him, hanging over one arm, as if it were representative of this same promise.]
Yes. A promise. I... I am looking forward to it. Let it be a motivation to face each future battle with both fervor and fortune.
[He pauses, not wanting to leave, but if he didn’t force himself, he could just stand here with her all day.]
For now, I will get out of your hair. Unless there was anything else you needed from me?
[byleth realizes with some delay that they have spent a good amount of time together, between sparring and this conversation. part of her wishes to ask dimitri for — some help, some advice, or to simply discuss one or another intricacy of a battle ahead.]
[but she refrains.]
[instead, she hops off the chair, nods and smiles at him, her expression neutral as ever. she glances at her board, suddenly feeling like she's on the spot to try and give a good enough reason, as to avoid embarrassment from how they are cutting this short.]
I have to speak some matters with Seteth. [seems right] —but, I will see you later, Dimitri.
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finalflight2019-11-15 01:54 am
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.]
no subject
[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.
no subject
Only a slight amount.
[More than slight — Dimitri has grown in the years since he was a student, and Byleth has remained the same. His cloak would absolutely engulf her, but the mental image is rather intriguing.
Enough that he steps back just enough to remove said cloak. It shrugs off with practiced ease, leaving him only in black armor, and he holds it out to Byleth.]
And no, I am fairly resilient to the cold, cloak or otherwise. Would you like to try it on?
no subject
It'll be really warm.
[she points out, but is otherwise inclined to try it on.]
I always wondered what it would feel like to wear it.
no subject
It’s nice to pretend, though, that their responsibilities have dissipated, if only for a moment.]
Here.
[She’s standing close (very close, his mind supplies), so it’s easy enough to reach over and wrap the cloak around her shoulders.
It’s so big on her. The fur looks like it might devour her alive, and the bottom pools along the floor. She might as well use it as a blanket instead.]
Ah... close to a perfect fit.
[A light joke. It’s not at all.]
no subject
[she closes her eyes, let's this feeling course through her until she feels very, very comfortable with it—her face buries into the fur. until—]
[opening her eyes again, she scans the room and removes her chair from under the desk, and cautiously stands atop it. she towers a bit over dimitri, but not by much. the cloak doesn't reach the ground like this.]
I'll just have to stand on a chair all the time whenever I wear this.
[..whenever...she...wears...this..]
no subject
But he doesn’t have to. Suddenly, she’s moving, stranding on her chair, and he has to tilt his head up to look at her, blinking.
Then chuckles, light and disbelieving.]
Do you plan on wearing it that often? And even with the chair, you look like you are hiding inside of my cloak, Professor.
no subject
[she says, humoring him, unable to find her arms underneath all the soft blue. she pushes past, though, eventually, only to readjust the cloak on her shoulders some, her green mint hair caught on the collar.]
[in a moment, though, she reaches forward and pats his head - like she would to a puppy.]
You've grown a lot, Dimitri. [and an echo, perhaps, to a conversation they had before, five years ago.] I'm happy to hear you laugh again, even if it is at my expense.
no subject
He’s left with an amalgamation of all, and he glances up at her form — her hair, ridiculously entangled with white and black fur — and his blue-eyed gaze becomes more solemn, but grateful.]
If it were not for you, I would not be able to. Laugh, I mean. Or do much else.
[Other than to be lost to the darkness and the voices that accompanied it.]
A part of me thinks that I would not be standing here at all if you had not helped me. So I am grateful that I can enjoy moments like these with you, and even if they are... silly, they are all the more precious because of it.
no subject
[there's the fur of his cloak, then the cold armor. her fingers travel lightly over the shoulder plate, feeling the hard metal over her skin. byleth does not meet his eye, not just yet.]
[she leans down a bit and decidedly takes his hands, for although they are covered in gloves, they feel much warmer than the armor that covers most of him. one must always be battle-ready, of course. the moment she stands straight again, she does look him in the eyes.]
Any moment I spend with you is important to me.
[words have always been... difficult. but she's trying to express properly what she means. dimitri is someone she wishes to cherish, always.]
It is my wish to look after you, not just in battle. To share your pain and your success. [she nods] I would not mind going to Fhirdiad and being at your side.
[casual things friends say to each other, right?]
no subject
Words that have his chest clenching again. If he had doubted that his feelings now were different than five years ago then... well, he would be right. He had admired her, was awe-struck by her, when he was seventeen. His thoughts often derailed by her beauty when he was supposed to be focusing diligently on a lecture, finding himself so uncharacteristically distracted. He is all of those things now, but five years ago, it was an infatuation that surely would have passed if the war had not existed, if they went their separate ways and he never saw her again.
Now? Now, standing here with her hand clasping his, feeling its warmth... now, he knows that is far stronger, something deeply rooted. Trying to remove it would be like removing a piece of his heart, their bond strengthened so much more by pain and overcoming that pain. The idea of returning to Fhirdiad and to act as Faerghus’ King while she remained elsewhere? He does not believe the passage of time would heal that hurt, not like it would have five years ago.
What a... terrifying thought. What a wonderful thought.
If only he could somehow enunciate that to her without sounding like a fool, without putting too much of himself on the line. Byleth says these things to him, but he wonders if—]
Thank you, Professor. [He’s a fool. He cannot bring himself to ask.] There is no one else that I would so dearly wish to have near, when that time comes.
[He gives her hand a squeeze, with the same pressure he feels around his heart. He looks down at their hands, smiling dimly.]
...you are always so warm, you know. I do not think the cold will be much of a problem at all.
no subject
[she offers in return, understanding completely well that getting a cloak wasn't off the table despite dimitri's insight on her being alright in the cold. it's at a moment like this that byleth feels a strength in their connection, a feeling so bold and wonderful, urged forward by the way that he returns the hold of her hands.]
[but these feelings are muddy. she cannot pin down exactly what they are, or what they mean, other than a strong want to protect and to care for and to love.]
[and so, continuing on with a smile, she slowly pulls away from dimitri's hands and undoes the cloak from around her shoulders, carefully holding it in front of her before handing it back to its rightful owner.]
Then, it is a promise, for when the war is over.
no subject
Yes. A promise. I... I am looking forward to it. Let it be a motivation to face each future battle with both fervor and fortune.
[He pauses, not wanting to leave, but if he didn’t force himself, he could just stand here with her all day.]
For now, I will get out of your hair. Unless there was anything else you needed from me?
no subject
[but she refrains.]
[instead, she hops off the chair, nods and smiles at him, her expression neutral as ever. she glances at her board, suddenly feeling like she's on the spot to try and give a good enough reason, as to avoid embarrassment from how they are cutting this short.]
I have to speak some matters with Seteth. [seems right] —but, I will see you later, Dimitri.