[ Focusing on the window makes it easier not to acknowledge how their hands slipping from one another's makes the wound he had left behind ache. Or how him asking her an incredibly simple question feels like a countdown towards another ending that she would realize with a startling clarity she doesn't want.
Claude kneeling down in order to boost her up in an all too familiar way overlaps in her mind's eye with memories from their now distant past. She can't help but be reminded that the first time they had tried to do this she had stepped on a tender spot on his thigh sending them collapsing to the ground in a heap of laughter. There's no chance of that today though. Hilda gives him a nod, pushing the numbers past her lips. ]
One, two, three -
[ Hilda steps into his hands, arms outstretched. Thanks to the momentum from Claude, one hand easily grasps the ledge to steady herself while the other stretches out, taking a hold of the latch. It unhooks with ease. The window is pushed out and with a strength she'd deny she has, Hilda pushes herself up onto the edge before flipping around to sit on it. And without thinking, the grin she gives him is bright and triumphant. Or at least she hopes it is. Gazing down at him, she suddenly has to fight the, overwhelming urge to cry. Words stumble over her tongue and past her teeth, injected with so much faux brightness that it even sounds incredibly fake to her. ]
Not bad, Claude. The second best archer hasn't let himself go.
no subject
Claude kneeling down in order to boost her up in an all too familiar way overlaps in her mind's eye with memories from their now distant past. She can't help but be reminded that the first time they had tried to do this she had stepped on a tender spot on his thigh sending them collapsing to the ground in a heap of laughter. There's no chance of that today though. Hilda gives him a nod, pushing the numbers past her lips. ]
One, two, three -
[ Hilda steps into his hands, arms outstretched. Thanks to the momentum from Claude, one hand easily grasps the ledge to steady herself while the other stretches out, taking a hold of the latch. It unhooks with ease. The window is pushed out and with a strength she'd deny she has, Hilda pushes herself up onto the edge before flipping around to sit on it. And without thinking, the grin she gives him is bright and triumphant. Or at least she hopes it is. Gazing down at him, she suddenly has to fight the, overwhelming urge to cry. Words stumble over her tongue and past her teeth, injected with so much faux brightness that it even sounds incredibly fake to her. ]
Not bad, Claude. The second best archer hasn't let himself go.