[ What he says confuses her. There's nothing she can think of that she would gain from wanting Sylvain. They aren't in Fodlan; there are no lands to join or politics to play. If there is anything that either of them would be gaining here in Abraxas, it would be Sylvain gaining a burden in the form of her.
Sincerity turns to annoyance when she spots Sylvain's eyeroll heavenward. Here she is trying to be serious and he's rolling his eyes at something she'd said. She barely has enough time to comprehend what he says about Claude being disappointed that he isn't what she wants him to be but she does have enough sense to immediately pinch Sylvain's cheek. Why did it feel like he was laughing at her? If Sylvain thought Claude was going to murder him, he might not even get that far if she murdered him first. There's some heat to her voice as she tugs at his cheek partly aimed at his eyeroll and partly fuelled by a truth she's since convinced herself of. ]
He doesn't care what I think because I don't mean anything to him. He made that pretty clear.
[ But she cared what Claude thought of her. That's why it had hurt so much to hear that he thought she had no substance and had nothing between her ears except air. Even that hadn't been enough to stop her from admiring him for who he was even after understanding that he made himself difficult to get to know by design. So did Sylvain, she realizes hazily. Is that why they both didn't want her? Because she was just a pretty thing to be put on a shelf with no other useful skills to speak of? Because she didn't have a brave, bleeding heart? Or was it because she wasn't some intriguing puzzle to solve?
Before she can question it further he's closing the space between them and her breath catches in her throat. Her hand relinquishes his cheek, going instead to slide into the hair at the nape of his neck. She tells herself her breathlessness has nothing to do with his question or the way she can make out the golden flecks in his eyes, and that she's just caught off guard. ]
That depends. Do you think I'm interested in you for the wrong reasons the way that others are?
no subject
Sincerity turns to annoyance when she spots Sylvain's eyeroll heavenward. Here she is trying to be serious and he's rolling his eyes at something she'd said. She barely has enough time to comprehend what he says about Claude being disappointed that he isn't what she wants him to be but she does have enough sense to immediately pinch Sylvain's cheek. Why did it feel like he was laughing at her? If Sylvain thought Claude was going to murder him, he might not even get that far if she murdered him first. There's some heat to her voice as she tugs at his cheek partly aimed at his eyeroll and partly fuelled by a truth she's since convinced herself of. ]
He doesn't care what I think because I don't mean anything to him. He made that pretty clear.
[ But she cared what Claude thought of her. That's why it had hurt so much to hear that he thought she had no substance and had nothing between her ears except air. Even that hadn't been enough to stop her from admiring him for who he was even after understanding that he made himself difficult to get to know by design. So did Sylvain, she realizes hazily. Is that why they both didn't want her? Because she was just a pretty thing to be put on a shelf with no other useful skills to speak of? Because she didn't have a brave, bleeding heart? Or was it because she wasn't some intriguing puzzle to solve?
Before she can question it further he's closing the space between them and her breath catches in her throat. Her hand relinquishes his cheek, going instead to slide into the hair at the nape of his neck. She tells herself her breathlessness has nothing to do with his question or the way she can make out the golden flecks in his eyes, and that she's just caught off guard. ]
That depends. Do you think I'm interested in you for the wrong reasons the way that others are?