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[ The horse gives a whicker and startles back a little, withdrawing back into its stall. Sylvain doesn’t bother to stifle his chuckle this time, even if it doesn’t have the same amount of energy and humor behind it as it normally does.

Instead of pulling away, he just reaches out to wrap fingers around her wrists and tug her hands away from her face so she can’t hide from him. ]

Well, since I’m already disturbed, the best way to make it up to me would be to let me get you home safe and sound so I don’t spend the rest of the night worrying. Because that would definitely be far more disturbing.

[ He gives a tug, drawing her closer. ]

Just how much did you drink, anyway?

[ In spite of how much she'd had, her strength still remains and he's met with some resistance initially when he tries to tug her hands away – apparently appearances mattered even when she was drunk – but he wins out in the end.

The tug isn't even that hard but on her wobbly legs, Hilda stumbles forward, squishing her face against his chest, arms encircling him to steady herself. ]

Who tattled?

[ His question is met with an annoyed question from her, albeit mumbled into his shirt. Her face remains there, suddenly overwhelmed by his familiar smell and something else – probably the dinner he had cooked. Another wave of tears is on the horizon when she realizes numbly he had come in the middle of his meal. Her stomach churns at the thought. ]

Maybe...not a lot? Six? Seven? [ She hiccups. ] That's not a lot for someone like Raphael.

The horse.

[ His deadpan answer comes almost instantaneously as he releases her wrists, only to wrap one arm around her shoulders and let the other smooth a hand down the back of her hair as she buries her face against his chest.

Her estimation gets a choked-sounding laugh from him, however, as he glances down at her. ]

Sweetheart, Raphael is at least three times your size, so can probably drink three times as much. Not to mention I’m pretty certain that man has a bottomless pit for a stomach. [ A pause, as he gives a lock of her hair a tug. ] And why were you trying to out-drink Raphael, exactly?

Marshy wouldn't!

[ Her defense of her new long-faced friend is instantaneous too but she's not moving her face any time soon. She knows she should. She should head home - or no, back to the Old Public Hall or the workshop. Maybe not the workshop actually. Cyprian might hear her and then she'd wake him.

The feel of Sylvain's arms around her is a grounding force and his hands smoothing her hair only serves to subdue the heaving sobs. He receives a grumbled protest that sounds something along the lines of she doesn't care if he's three times her size, she could do it if she really wanted to. It's punctuated by a hiccup as her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. ]

He always said that eating and drinking made him happy so maybe that would work for me too. [ She pauses. ] It kind of worked I made a new friend.

And I’m sure Marshy will make for a great friend, but it is definitely past the horse’s bedtime, so let’s let Marshy get some sleep, alright?

[ His lips quirk faintly at the sound of her hiccups, the feel of her fingers curling in his shirt. It’s really hard to stay upset with her when she’s so damn adorable.

Then again, he didn’t really have the right to be upset in the first place, so that was his problem to manage.

Separating himself from her grip just enough that he could turn and crouch down in front of her, he glances back over his shoulder at her with a faint, crooked smile. It might not hold the level of warmth he normally sported, but there was still fondness in it, if a little subdued. ]

Come on, Princess. Let’s get you home, alright? Climb on.

[ When he pulls away another sob threatens to bubble up, like his lack of warmth is suddenly made more apparent than ever. She almost tells him not to go before realizing that he isn't actually going anywhere. Not like how she had left him sitting his bedroom alone.

Her lower lip trembles at the realization that she hadn't wanted this. But just because she didn't want it, didn't not make it the right choice, right? ]

I'm only going if you bring me back to the Old Public Hall.

[ She can't help how pouty she sounds. It comes with the territory when she's been drinking and crying for several hours. ]

[ There’s a moment of hesitation before he sighs and gestures to her again.

If that’s what you want, Hilda. Now, come on. Let’s get going, alright?

[ His answer seems genuine enough, but then again, he’s not against twisting the truth of his own words around if it suits him at any given moment. He tends to leave himself loopholes like that. ]

[ She doesn't seem to notice the hesitation. In fact, so caught up in her concern that she's being an inconvenience she feels like the pause is more exasperation with her than anything else. The familiar flush of shame begins to creep up her cheeks again. There's several beats as she blinks tears that had escaped and she furiously goes to rub her eyes with a nod.

Climbing onto his back is a bit of an ordeal considering her inebriated state, but she manages it, albeit clumsily. Her face bumps against the back of his head and she lets out a soft groan when her teeth catch her lips. A quick lick of her lips confirms there's no blood, but she's certainly smarting as she wraps her arms loosely around his neck. ]

Okay, ready. Up, up, Gautier.

I’m not a wyvern, you know.

[ He loops his arms under her knees an hefts her a little higher, until she can settle into a comfortable position against his back. ]

Hold on tight now.

[ Setting off away from the Inn, he keeps her steady against his back as he walks through the darkened streets, winding his way through a maze of back alleys and sidestreets. After a few moments of silence, he casts her a look over his shoulder again. ]

So. Are you going to tell me what tonight was really about?

I know you're not. [ Another hiccup. ] You're obviously a horse because you love them so much. And besides, 'Gautier' is a silly name for a wyvern.

[ Somehow this line of reasoning is foolproof in Hilda's eyes.

The gentle sway of his body beneath her and the silence would normally be enough to lull her into a sedated state had she not had as much alcohol as she'd had. Unfortunately as it stood, her stomach was beginning to rumble and she can feel a queasiness come over her, not so unlike when she had first taken to the skies on Waffle's back.

For that reason it takes her some time to answer him. When she does though, her words tumble out unbidden. ]

I'm so lonely and sad, Sylvain. [ The admission pulls a halting breath through her body like a shudder. ] But that's my own fault. I deserve it. I didn't even mean to say the things I said.

[ His grip on her tightens slightly and his head turns back to watch the direction he’s heading, feeling her relax against his back slightly. Even though he can still feel every shudder that sweeps through her.

He lets her talk, lets her work through what she wants to stay, even as he stays quiet and listens. He chooses his own response just as carefully, biting back the instinctive reply that jumps to his lips, because that won’t help her right now. ]

So why did you?

[ She tosses her head backwards in mild despair. That's a bad idea though because as soon as she does, her field of vision goes spinning and she has to right herself immediately, feeling some of the drink shift from her stomach into her chest. (That's not how anatomy works, but you get the idea.) ]

I don't know.

[ That too is a knee jerk response that Hilda, unlike Sylvain, can't stop from being vocalized into the night. It's not the truth though. Reminded again of how she had broken her promise to him she bites on her lower lip before quietly amending herself. ]

...I'm just scared. I'm scared that people will see that I'm not really some delicate flower and change their minds.

Edited 2023-07-24 21:28 (UTC)

[ His grip tightens on her when she suddenly leans back but at least she rights herself all on her own a moment later. He turns to glance back at her again before once more fixing his gaze on the alley ahead of them as he winds through the city. ]

Sweetheart, did you ever stop to consider that maybe the people who care about you don’t give a damn about whether you’re a delicate flower or not, and that doesn’t at all affect who you are and why they might like you?

[ Her reply is interrupted by a hiccup that quickly leads into a small burp which is...probably a lot less cute and definitely not very delicate flower of her. At least nothing came up with it. ]

Why wouldn't it though? [ Hilda draws in a shuddering breath, her voice sounding teary and forlorn. ] I'm not really strong like Holst. Or really smart like Claude. Or super super kind and talented like you. Eventually people are going to figure out that I'm just a pretty thing and get bored.

[ Her eyes fix on a point just ahead of them, knowing that if she turns her gaze upwards her world may spin again. She gives her head a short shake. Other words are on the tip of her tongue, like why part of the reason she had told him she didn't want him was a roundabout, awful way of ensuring that he didn't make an awful mistake himself. ]

Like you - I don't know why you haven't. I said something so mean to you but you're still here.

Edited 2023-07-24 22:48 (UTC)

Apparently it's because I'm super super kind.

[ His tone is dry, but he does pause to shoot her a bemused look over his shoulder at that. ]

Man, appearances really are deceiving. I didn't realize I had you that fooled. [ he frees a hand long enough to reach back and give a playful tap to the tip of her nose. ] Stop being ridiculous. I'm not at all kind. And none of us can be summed down to just one thing and have that be the total of it. I don't know Holst but I'm pretty sure there's more to him than just his strength. There's definitely more to Claude than just his smarts - especially because he can be just as utterly stupid as he is clever.

And you, sweetheart, while you are indeed very pretty and you can be just as delicate as you like, you have a strength all your own, far beyond what most idiots give you credit for. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for. It's one of the reasons I admire you so much.

[ He's not wrong in what he says - no one person is a singular thing, but that doesn't stop her irritation from sparking. The dry tone doesn't go unnoticed nor does the boop to the nose. Hilda's eyebrows furrow immediately as she swipes at his hand, a whine forming at the back of her throat. And because that doesn't seem like enough, she grabs a hold of his cheeks in retaliation. ]

Why are you being mean to yourself? Yes you are!

[ Her reaction has less to do with the boop and the attitude, and more to do with what he's said about himself. Why would a kind person take care of not just them, but his friends at home the way he did? Sure, he flirted and acted like he didn't care, but she had seen it. Why would he get so upset about she and Claude fighting and try to get them to make up? And more than that, why would he have comforted her the night she had gone looking for Claude? ]

I don't have to listen to anything you say if you don't believe that you're kind. [ Her voice rises as she gives his cheeks another tug. ] You're so frustrating I - [ Suddenly her stomach churns and her words cut off. ] Sylvain? I don't feel good.

[ He doesn’t get a chance to defend himself - or not defend himself, as it were - before she offers that warning. It’s enough to have him pausing and moving off to the side of the street.

Maybe carrying her hadn’t been the best idea, but he’s pretty sure she was beyond walking at this point. ]

Do I need to set you down, sweet?

Mhmm -

[ She begins to tap his shoulders in a panic as if that will somehow get her down faster. All the while she can't help but think that this wouldn't have happened if whoever had tattled on her had just let her be. Cadens wasn't wildly dangerous - surely she could fend for herself. Or maybe she could have stumbled back up to her room at the Sarstina if she were that desperate to puke and sleep off her drunken stupor.

Her legs unhook from around his hip as she hurries to get the ground back underneath her feet. Sylvain stopping seems to help some, but it's a false relief. The moment she wiggles out of his grasp, Hilda feels a lurch in her stomach as she drops the short distance to the cobblestone.

Let it be known that Hilda Goneril probably would have gone to the grave claiming never having puked in her life (not even as a baby!). She'd claim that she never knew what the feeling of acid and bile being projected out of her mouth would feel like, but if she had to guess, it would probably be worse than discovering someone else's blood on your favourite boots.

But after today, she can't confidently make that claim anymore. Despite her best efforts to hold it back, puke comes spilling out of her mouth in a wet splutter. That alone would have been bad enough to cause her sudden death by embarrassment but the added cherry on top is that she can't turn around in time to avoid getting it on her boots. Oh, and the back of Sylvain's pant legs.

The moment she's done retching and realizes what she's done, Hilda lets out another wail of despair. Immediately she wraps her arms tight around herself as she crumbles into a crouched little ball. ]

[ It happens so fast that he can’t get her all the way back down to the ground before she gets sick and then all he can do is reach to hold her hair back and keep it out of her way. Having been on the other end of this far more times than he can even count, she has all his sympathy.

Even if she didn’t manage to miss his pantlegs in the process.

That dismayed wail from her gets a sound somewhere between a laugh and a soothing croon from him as he rests a hand atop her head, trying to comfort her. ]

Sweetheart, hey. It’s okay. Do you feel better now?

[ At the moment, he’s far more worried about her than his clothes. ]

[ Even in the pit of her despair she hears the telltale sound of a laugh in his voice that she had unwittingly committed to memory. Somehow the amused tone of his voice makes the situation worse and she buries her face deeper into her knees. Cheeks burning with shame she had never wished to be smited into the earth more than she did now. ]

No, I don't! [ There's a loud, wet sounding intake of breath. ] I'm so disgusting. Why would you want me at all after this?

[ He knows the soft laughter is still somewhat audible in his tone, although he does his best to stifle it. He can’t quite help it, though, because she’s adorable, even like this.

Carefully, he crouches down in front of her and the look in his eyes is all fond affection as he deliberately tugs her face out of hiding. His lips quirk as he brushes her hair back off her flushed face. ]

Because you’re perfect, no matter what state I happen to find you in. Now come on, sweet, you don’t want to stay here. Let’s get you home and I promise I’ll fill your big tub up with a hot steaming bath and your favorite soaps, okay?

[ He definitely meets some resistance and when he eventually does unearth her face it's not a pretty sight. Her eyes are rimmed red and puffy from all the crying that she's been doing. There's faint streaks of dampness under her nose from the snot that she's wiped furiously away leaving the tip of her nose raw as a result. Her bangs are slightly askew from being pressed into Marshy's mane and her arms, and her cheeks are the splotchy sort of pink that she would never think is cute on her. Being this close to her, he might get the whiff of alcohol and bile on her breath too.

Whether or not he'll admit it his kindness is showing again, making her tear up with a fresh batch of tears on the horizon. ]

It's not even my home anymore. And the last time I had a bath an octopus fell on my head.

[ He blinks at that, because he has no idea what she’s talking about and then just assumes it’s something that makes more sense when she’s drunk.

Reaching behind him, he fishes a handkerchief out of his pocket and reaches to clean off her face for her with an indulgent fondness. ]

It’s still your home, sweetness. No one’s taking that away from you. Your room is there and waiting for you, just like how you last left it. And I promise to protect you from any more octopus…ses? [ Now is probably a bad time to try to remember what the plural of octopus is. Especially because she’s not in any state to appreciate terrible innuendo right now. ]

[ She hasn't had someone wipe her face in a very long time. The last time had probably been a nanny of some kind - either that or Holst. Who is less important than the feeling of being cared for however. The fondness that exudes from the gentle hand holding the handkerchief to her face to wipe away the tears - and her snot - only add to the disaster that are her alcohol-soaked emotions.

Had she not been in such a state, she would have explained that the octopus had fallen out of the rift in the bathroom ceiling and definitely hadn't been funny at the time. It sounds far-fetched, especially when she had been the only one in the loft at the time - but it's a story for another day. And maybe if she weren't as drunk, there's a very high chance she would have found his innuendo funny even if she'd act scandalized.

Several sniffles sound from her before she takes a shuddering breath in. ]

Just one bath. And then I'll go to the Old Public Hall.

Alright. We’ll take it one step at a time.

[ He answers her agreeably, even if that’s not really agreeing to that at all. He doesn’t think she’ll notice the difference, however, as he holds out his hands to help her up. ]

Come on. Do you think you’ll be okay to get on my back again, or is your stomach still too upset?

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