[ Before he can pull back her fingers grasp his chin, holding him fast to her. ]
You let me worry about what I’ll regret.
[ It’s so unlike her to say that, to take on such ownership of something so serious but in the moment it escapes her completely. Most of them time she cares little for decisions being made for her when they involve some iota of responsibility. It goes against every cell in her body because her position in life denotes that she’s meant to follow and following to Hilda meant never taking accountability for any matter of importance.
Yet here she is. Trying. Hoping that Sylvain will do the same.
He often said he was a lover and not a fighter, but all of that love often felt directed at everyone but himself. All she wanted to do in that moment was take his hand so they could experience all the joy, all the terror, in accepting that love together. She wanted to walk beside him as much as she wanted him to find refuge in her.
Her eyes become liquid, practically molten pools of adoration as she relinquishes her hold on his chin to hold out her pinky towards him. ]
[ His gaze drops to her outstretched pinky, because those are the last words he'd expected to ever hear come out of her mouth. He knew her well, knew that that admission was beyond anything she would normally make. It is this that finally nudges him over the edge into giving in to her, even as he reaches out and hooks his own pinky with hers. ]
I pinky swear.
[ ...Even if he feels a little silly in the process. ]
[ Silly, sure. But when has the real her ever been anything but that?
Sylvain hooking his pinky around hers fills up with her such childlike joy that as soon as he does, there’s a split second where her expression is caught between something tender and reverential. Untangling her hands from his, she pulls him close. Her legs tighten around his waist as she closes the very small gap left between them to kiss him again.
Having his lips on hers has her her heart banging in her chest, lips parting in a happy rapture. She’s warm all over. Warmed by him, by a potentially terrifying hope that even she runs from but one that she trusts they’ll try to face together. ]
[ He lets her pull him down for a kiss and he goes willingly, caging her in with his body as he presses her down and captures her mouth. Deep and slow and lazy, his tongue teasing against her lips. One hand comes to tangle in her long hair, fingers working lightly at her scalp a moment before he tugs her head back and grins down at her ruefully. ]
I’m still not going to do anything you might end up hating me for in the morning when you’re sober again.
[ This is what she should have become drunk on, she thinks hazily when she feels his tongue asking for permission to enter and she grants it to him. The taste of him is so heady, so lovely that the loud voice that had been dissuading her from doing more of this can't properly break through the haze of content that she finds herself in. No wonder Claude enjoys kissing him, she thinks. No wonder he looks at Sylvain the way he does. There's more than just how he kisses of course. Sylvain is more than his body despite his determined dodging of that fact but that doesn't change the fact that he kisses so well that she could cry.
And while she doesn't cry right now (that would simply add to more of her despair in the morning when she wakes up to realize everything that has transpired this evening), she does whine when he pulls away. The whine is partly directed at the distance and then at his words. ]
I won't hate you. I just told you how I felt, didn't I?
[ She seems determined to, as she bunches her hands into fists against his back. He can take that as her agreeing to his deal though. ]
Just like how I'm going to remember to ask you why you're wearing an earring all of a sudden. An earring I didn't make.
[ It's not clear if that's her way of saying that she wants to table the topic for the morning as well, but it is clear that she seems mildly annoyed at the last part. ]
[ The pout she gives him is so potent that it feels very much like she's never pouted this strongly in her life. People could wear whatever they wanted and she knew that. Not everything had to be made by her nor did she have a monopoly on what Sylvain did but her muddled drunk logic can't help but feel so deeply that this is somehow an affront.
She's already crossing her arms, a whine edging into her voice. Surprisingly her protest has less to do with the fact that she has a sneaking suspicion it has to do with Claude and far more to do with how she feels about Sylvain not asking her. ]
I know. But you could have asked me to make it for you. You didn't need to spend money on it! [ She goes quiet, eyes flitting from the earring to his face. ] Why green and gold?
He makes a face, his nose scrunching up slightly before he leans in to kiss her again apologetically. ]
It was… sentimental. And technically I didn’t spend money on it, it was a gift. But if you would like to make me an additional one, I wouldn’t say no. I could put it in the other ear. Or maybe down the curve? What would look better?
[ The pause before sentimental pulls at something in the back of her brain, like this is important. Like she should pay attention to this because maybe her hunch was right. He's playing to what will appease her and while it would normally be enough to distract her, the questioning of the earring has pulled everything into the forefront for her.
Hollowness begins to take root in her chest, eating away at the buoyancy from before, slowly bringing her back down to reality. She'd tell him she had feelings for him, but then she'd leave it at that, she thinks. This is an answer in and of itself. How could she possibly compare, how could there possibly be room for her when this feels like a decision that's already been made and solidified? That's just how life worked when it came to matters of the heart, didn't it? The difference now is that with the hollowness there's acceptance too.
Her arms stay crossed over her chest but instead of it being in protest, it looks like it's a shield as if this will somehow make her feel less small than she feels at that moment. ]
[ He mentally winces at that, because he can feel that sudden distance now opening up between them. But he has no idea how he could have evaded this one, short of not wearing his earring. Which wasn’t going to be an option.
So he cups her face in her hands, holding her in place as he meets her gaze with a firm look, frown lingering on his lips as he searches her expression. ]
Whatever you’re thinking, stop. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t like that look in your eyes. Or that I put it there. Yes, it’s for Claude. [ He wasn’t going to lie to her about it. He’d promised not to. ] It was a memento of our first date. He wanted to get me something to make up for my birthday and I chose this while we were at the beach a few weeks back.
[ When he cups her face whatever uncertain expression she has on her face turns into a defensive pout. He's not a mind reader. How would he know? ]
I'm not thinking anything.
[ The answer makes her heart sink in a way that it's been sinking ever since she had gotten wind of this new found affection between them. But this time, plummeting despair doesn't follow. After everything that had happened, it had no where else to go. It simply became heavier and heavier, making her remember part of the reason why she had been drinking in the first place. Hadn't she said that she wouldn't be so stubborn though? That she wouldn't be so greedy? Something else emerges from the sinking feeling in her heart: a bittersweet happiness that he and Claude had allowed themselves to open up to one another as much as they had is a good thing. It bodes well. And while she is glad, a greedy jealous heart doesn't change overnight.
Maybe with time, she thinks, with some level of grace that she doesn't possess, she won't feel the bitter sadness that coats her tongue. They didn't have to keep being kind to her like this, offering to wear something just because she was around. Sadness is inevitable in an ending. Maybe that's what the last several months have been culminating into and her body had known it was in some state of mourning all along. Her mind was just catching up to it now. As she brushes away Sylvain's hand, an understanding smile flutters to her face but it doesn't reach her eyes. ]
Good. I'm glad he made it up to you. And it's sweet that you're wearing it.
[ And she means it. There's genuineness to it. But that doesn't dispel the lingering sadness that had permeated her bones. Her gaze lingers on the earring and then his face ever so briefly before she lets out a yawn, stretching like a cat. ]
I guess if that's the case then I won't be too upset that you're wearing something I didn't make.
[ Her sadness is so deep and choking that for a moment, all he can do is blink at her before he’s drawing her in close in his arms once more, wrapping around her and cradling her against his chest. He brushes his lips against her hair in a gentle kiss. ]
I’m glad you’ll forgive me for it. But that just means I’m going to be extra annoying until you make me one from you, too.
[ She whines as she's pulled into his chest mid-stretch. Her struggles don't last very long before she gives up at the brush of his lips against her head. With her face pressed into his chest he can't see how the sadness lingers there, whatever trace of happiness she had felt earlier quickly dispelled. It's a blessing, really. ]
You don't have to wear it just to be nice. It won't have anything sentimental attached to it. [ Even that tastes bitter on her tongue and she has to follow it up with a put on pout - ] And besides you didn't wear the hat I made you.
[ He pulls back enough to boop her nose chidingly before tipping her head up in his direction, fingers catching her chin between them. ]
Hilda Valentine Goneril, you listen to me. It will have everything sentimental attached to it, because it will have been crafted by you, by your own hands. We’re not going to talk about the hat, we’re going to let it rest in peace wherever it ended up. This is different. I want to wear a piece of your jewelry. I want something to symbolize both the people I like.
Besides. [ He presses a kiss to the tip of her nose now before playfully nipping at it with his teeth. ] I am not nice.
[ The boop is met with an annoyed scrunch of her face that he'll see in full force when he tugs it up to make her look at him. ]
Sylvain Jose Gautier, you didn't just full name me!
[ The protest is merely a means of prolonging her reply to something that made her heart hope for more than it should be allowed to. Why hadn't it learned yet that sentimental never ended well for her? Had it so quickly forgotten that she still had the burns from Claude to prove it?
Her mind tells her heart it should know better than to hinge something so simple on things like words. It reminds her that she is not Claude, she will never be Claude, and that if Sylvain cared for him in the way she's sure he does, then he could never possibly care for her in the same way. This kindness is too much. Her heavy heart might shatter.
An annoyed growl flutters from her lips as she playfully shoves his face away once he bites her nose. ]
You are - we talked about this. And I'm not making you something just because you feel bad that I'm upset about this earring.
[ The word comes out pointed and succinct as he holds her gaze, not letting her look away from him. ]
Because that’s not why I want one. I want one because it’s something you made for me and I’m selfish like that. I want one because you- [ He interrupts his own explanation to place a purposeful kiss on her lips. Not teasing and playful this time. No, there’s far more poured into this one that he can’t put into words.
When he pulls back, he finishes his statement, his voice softer this time, but the look in his eyes is sincere as he catches her gaze once more. ]
Because you are just as important to me and I want something to show that, too.
[ It's tempting to ask why then if he wanted something from her why he didn't keep that stupid hat - but any snark is quickly swallowed up by the press of his lips against hers. The kiss isn't one just to shut her up. She knows what those kisses feel like and this isn't that.
There's something more to it, an earnestness that she's terrified to read into because it feels like kindling that could easily stoke the flames of her hope that she's trying desperately to stamp out. Easier said than done when they're pressed up together like this and she can feel his heartbeat through the palms of her hands. A kiss is a kiss, she reminds herself. It wouldn't mean anything unless she made something of it.
And if she isn't assigning meaning, if she's trying to turn a blind eye to this kiss, then that also means she shouldn't be assigning anything to the look he's giving her, right? How can she not when he's looking at her the way she had seen him look at Claude that night of the gala? Hilda feels her heart lurch and creak in her chest as she looks into his eyes, feeling breathless from a kiss that didn't make her heart hope, that didn't make it feel like she was floating and light, that didn't make it feel like the world was just them and these sheets.
Her gaze lingers on amber eyes more warm and light than any precious stone. Breath returns to her and her protest comes out as a barely audible exhale as her eyes flit away before her eyes mist over from the undeserving kindness he's showing her. ]
We'll see.
[ But they both know that she's softer for him than she can voice at this moment. ]
[ He flops back over onto his back with a dramatic sigh, flopping one arm over his eyes in playful dismay. Although the other arm is still keeping her anchored against him. Just in case. ]
Ouch. She’s doubting my pinky promise already and it hasn’t even been five minutes.
[ Sylvain's dramatics gets the sort of reaction he's probably hoping for and she gasps, rolling up to perch her arm on his chest to look down at him. She's too sensitive right now, too worried about offending and feeling like she's on the precipice of crying from the storm of feelings that currently whirl in her heart ]
I'm not! I just - [ She cuts herself short, worry shining in her eyes as her hand gently grasps the wrist of the arm covering his face to remove it. She's just what? Trying not to get her hopes up about this? Trying to dissuade him from something that she's certain will only serve to distract him from the person that he really cares for? All the explanations feel like too much for her to attempt to explain to him without just outright embarrassing herself. ] it's a lot of pressure to just ask me to make something.
What if you hate it?
[ It's not like he's picking this hypothetical thing out. And if he didn't like it and it didn't suit him, she didn't want him wearing it out of obligation. ]
[ The smile only serves to fill her with a mixture of annoyance and exasperation. She's drunk but she's not drunk enough to have that escape her attention. ]
I might if you're going to laugh at me.
[ Where she would even get that amount of material to make an earring large enough is beyond her. At that point it would be a shield. And why she's even considering this seriously is a good indication that she's still, in fact pretty drunk. ]
I'm serious. I don't want you to wear something just because you feel obligated to. I want you to wear it because you like it but I don't want you to lie to me about it either.
[ He reaches up to drag her down onto his chest once more. ]
Do I need to make another pinky promise that this has nothing to do with feeling obligated? I don’t feel obligated. Trust me, if I did? I’d be complaining about it a whole lot more. [ ….which probably doesn't say good things about his opinion of the former hat, may it forever rest in peace pieces. ] I promise not to lie to you about whether I like it or not. But I’m pretty sure if you make me a pretty earring you think I’ll like, I trust that I’ll like it.
[ There's no resistance as he pulls her down onto his chest. She presses the side of her face just over his heart and closes her eyes. The sounds of a pout still linger in her voice but she seems more resigned than she had been before. ]
Even if I make something really sparkly and dangling?
[ She'd never. Not for him at least. It wasn't very practical considering he spent so much time in the desert and at the stables. Something incredibly shiny and sparkly might look like an attractive snack to a horse or whatever creatures scuttled out in the desert. She'd had her earrings tugged on by Waffle and had her long hair caught in them enough times to know how painful that could be.
If she was going to make him anything, it'd sit close to his body so that there wasn't any chance of it snagging on anything - hair, clothing, the environment. And it would have to compliment the other earring she thinks - although that thought kicks up a swirl of mixed feelings. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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You let me worry about what I’ll regret.
[ It’s so unlike her to say that, to take on such ownership of something so serious but in the moment it escapes her completely. Most of them time she cares little for decisions being made for her when they involve some iota of responsibility. It goes against every cell in her body because her position in life denotes that she’s meant to follow and following to Hilda meant never taking accountability for any matter of importance.
Yet here she is. Trying. Hoping that Sylvain will do the same.
He often said he was a lover and not a fighter, but all of that love often felt directed at everyone but himself. All she wanted to do in that moment was take his hand so they could experience all the joy, all the terror, in accepting that love together. She wanted to walk beside him as much as she wanted him to find refuge in her.
Her eyes become liquid, practically molten pools of adoration as she relinquishes her hold on his chin to hold out her pinky towards him. ]
Pinky promise it, Sylvain.
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I pinky swear.
[ ...Even if he feels a little silly in the process. ]
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Sylvain hooking his pinky around hers fills up with her such childlike joy that as soon as he does, there’s a split second where her expression is caught between something tender and reverential. Untangling her hands from his, she pulls him close. Her legs tighten around his waist as she closes the very small gap left between them to kiss him again.
Having his lips on hers has her her heart banging in her chest, lips parting in a happy rapture. She’s warm all over. Warmed by him, by a potentially terrifying hope that even she runs from but one that she trusts they’ll try to face together. ]
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I’m still not going to do anything you might end up hating me for in the morning when you’re sober again.
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And while she doesn't cry right now (that would simply add to more of her despair in the morning when she wakes up to realize everything that has transpired this evening), she does whine when he pulls away. The whine is partly directed at the distance and then at his words. ]
I won't hate you. I just told you how I felt, didn't I?
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[ His grin is fond and indulgent in response to that whine as he gazes down at her. ]
And if you remember enough of this conversation in the morning to tell me again, then we can do whatever you like. Deal?
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[ She seems determined to, as she bunches her hands into fists against his back. He can take that as her agreeing to his deal though. ]
Just like how I'm going to remember to ask you why you're wearing an earring all of a sudden. An earring I didn't make.
[ It's not clear if that's her way of saying that she wants to table the topic for the morning as well, but it is clear that she seems mildly annoyed at the last part. ]
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Uhh. It was a very spontaneous, spur-of-the-moment decision?
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She's already crossing her arms, a whine edging into her voice. Surprisingly her protest has less to do with the fact that she has a sneaking suspicion it has to do with Claude and far more to do with how she feels about Sylvain not asking her. ]
I know. But you could have asked me to make it for you. You didn't need to spend money on it! [ She goes quiet, eyes flitting from the earring to his face. ] Why green and gold?
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He makes a face, his nose scrunching up slightly before he leans in to kiss her again apologetically. ]
It was… sentimental. And technically I didn’t spend money on it, it was a gift. But if you would like to make me an additional one, I wouldn’t say no. I could put it in the other ear. Or maybe down the curve? What would look better?
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Hollowness begins to take root in her chest, eating away at the buoyancy from before, slowly bringing her back down to reality. She'd tell him she had feelings for him, but then she'd leave it at that, she thinks. This is an answer in and of itself. How could she possibly compare, how could there possibly be room for her when this feels like a decision that's already been made and solidified? That's just how life worked when it came to matters of the heart, didn't it? The difference now is that with the hollowness there's acceptance too.
Her arms stay crossed over her chest but instead of it being in protest, it looks like it's a shield as if this will somehow make her feel less small than she feels at that moment. ]
Is it for Claude?
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So he cups her face in her hands, holding her in place as he meets her gaze with a firm look, frown lingering on his lips as he searches her expression. ]
Whatever you’re thinking, stop. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t like that look in your eyes. Or that I put it there. Yes, it’s for Claude. [ He wasn’t going to lie to her about it. He’d promised not to. ] It was a memento of our first date. He wanted to get me something to make up for my birthday and I chose this while we were at the beach a few weeks back.
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I'm not thinking anything.
[ The answer makes her heart sink in a way that it's been sinking ever since she had gotten wind of this new found affection between them. But this time, plummeting despair doesn't follow. After everything that had happened, it had no where else to go. It simply became heavier and heavier, making her remember part of the reason why she had been drinking in the first place. Hadn't she said that she wouldn't be so stubborn though? That she wouldn't be so greedy? Something else emerges from the sinking feeling in her heart: a bittersweet happiness that he and Claude had allowed themselves to open up to one another as much as they had is a good thing. It bodes well. And while she is glad, a greedy jealous heart doesn't change overnight.
Maybe with time, she thinks, with some level of grace that she doesn't possess, she won't feel the bitter sadness that coats her tongue. They didn't have to keep being kind to her like this, offering to wear something just because she was around. Sadness is inevitable in an ending. Maybe that's what the last several months have been culminating into and her body had known it was in some state of mourning all along. Her mind was just catching up to it now. As she brushes away Sylvain's hand, an understanding smile flutters to her face but it doesn't reach her eyes. ]
Good. I'm glad he made it up to you. And it's sweet that you're wearing it.
[ And she means it. There's genuineness to it. But that doesn't dispel the lingering sadness that had permeated her bones. Her gaze lingers on the earring and then his face ever so briefly before she lets out a yawn, stretching like a cat. ]
I guess if that's the case then I won't be too upset that you're wearing something I didn't make.
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I’m glad you’ll forgive me for it. But that just means I’m going to be extra annoying until you make me one from you, too.
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You don't have to wear it just to be nice. It won't have anything sentimental attached to it. [ Even that tastes bitter on her tongue and she has to follow it up with a put on pout - ] And besides you didn't wear the hat I made you.
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Hilda Valentine Goneril, you listen to me. It will have everything sentimental attached to it, because it will have been crafted by you, by your own hands. We’re not going to talk about the hat, we’re going to let it rest in peace wherever it ended up. This is different. I want to wear a piece of your jewelry. I want something to symbolize both the people I like.
Besides. [ He presses a kiss to the tip of her nose now before playfully nipping at it with his teeth. ] I am not nice.
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Sylvain Jose Gautier, you didn't just full name me!
[ The protest is merely a means of prolonging her reply to something that made her heart hope for more than it should be allowed to. Why hadn't it learned yet that sentimental never ended well for her? Had it so quickly forgotten that she still had the burns from Claude to prove it?
Her mind tells her heart it should know better than to hinge something so simple on things like words. It reminds her that she is not Claude, she will never be Claude, and that if Sylvain cared for him in the way she's sure he does, then he could never possibly care for her in the same way. This kindness is too much. Her heavy heart might shatter.
An annoyed growl flutters from her lips as she playfully shoves his face away once he bites her nose. ]
You are - we talked about this. And I'm not making you something just because you feel bad that I'm upset about this earring.
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[ The word comes out pointed and succinct as he holds her gaze, not letting her look away from him. ]
Because that’s not why I want one. I want one because it’s something you made for me and I’m selfish like that. I want one because you- [ He interrupts his own explanation to place a purposeful kiss on her lips. Not teasing and playful this time. No, there’s far more poured into this one that he can’t put into words.
When he pulls back, he finishes his statement, his voice softer this time, but the look in his eyes is sincere as he catches her gaze once more. ]
Because you are just as important to me and I want something to show that, too.
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There's something more to it, an earnestness that she's terrified to read into because it feels like kindling that could easily stoke the flames of her hope that she's trying desperately to stamp out. Easier said than done when they're pressed up together like this and she can feel his heartbeat through the palms of her hands. A kiss is a kiss, she reminds herself. It wouldn't mean anything unless she made something of it.
And if she isn't assigning meaning, if she's trying to turn a blind eye to this kiss, then that also means she shouldn't be assigning anything to the look he's giving her, right? How can she not when he's looking at her the way she had seen him look at Claude that night of the gala? Hilda feels her heart lurch and creak in her chest as she looks into his eyes, feeling breathless from a kiss that didn't make her heart hope, that didn't make it feel like she was floating and light, that didn't make it feel like the world was just them and these sheets.
Her gaze lingers on amber eyes more warm and light than any precious stone. Breath returns to her and her protest comes out as a barely audible exhale as her eyes flit away before her eyes mist over from the undeserving kindness he's showing her. ]
We'll see.
[ But they both know that she's softer for him than she can voice at this moment. ]
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Ouch. She’s doubting my pinky promise already and it hasn’t even been five minutes.
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She's too sensitive right now, too worried about offending and feeling like she's on the precipice of crying from the storm of feelings that currently whirl in her heart ]
I'm not! I just - [ She cuts herself short, worry shining in her eyes as her hand gently grasps the wrist of the arm covering his face to remove it. She's just what? Trying not to get her hopes up about this? Trying to dissuade him from something that she's certain will only serve to distract him from the person that he really cares for? All the explanations feel like too much for her to attempt to explain to him without just outright embarrassing herself. ] it's a lot of pressure to just ask me to make something.
What if you hate it?
[ It's not like he's picking this hypothetical thing out. And if he didn't like it and it didn't suit him, she didn't want him wearing it out of obligation. ]
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Hilda. Are you planning on making an earring that hides my entire face?
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I might if you're going to laugh at me.
[ Where she would even get that amount of material to make an earring large enough is beyond her. At that point it would be a shield. And why she's even considering this seriously is a good indication that she's still, in fact pretty drunk. ]
I'm serious. I don't want you to wear something just because you feel obligated to. I want you to wear it because you like it but I don't want you to lie to me about it either.
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Do I need to make another pinky promise that this has nothing to do with feeling obligated? I don’t feel obligated. Trust me, if I did? I’d be complaining about it a whole lot more. [ ….which probably doesn't say good things about his opinion of the former hat, may it forever rest in
peacepieces. ] I promise not to lie to you about whether I like it or not. But I’m pretty sure if you make me a pretty earring you think I’ll like, I trust that I’ll like it.no subject
Even if I make something really sparkly and dangling?
[ She'd never. Not for him at least. It wasn't very practical considering he spent so much time in the desert and at the stables. Something incredibly shiny and sparkly might look like an attractive snack to a horse or whatever creatures scuttled out in the desert. She'd had her earrings tugged on by Waffle and had her long hair caught in them enough times to know how painful that could be.
If she was going to make him anything, it'd sit close to his body so that there wasn't any chance of it snagging on anything - hair, clothing, the environment. And it would have to compliment the other earring she thinks - although that thought kicks up a swirl of mixed feelings. ]
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