expiationlogs | may catch-all!

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may catch-all!

Who: Claude & Various
Where: Around Aldrip!
What: Claude and his encounters around town... again!!
Warnings: None anticipated! If you'd like to hop in on a log, however, please feel free to PM/DM me or hit me up on plurk (here!), and I'd be happy to whip up a starter for you, or you can just wildcard me in here! I've got my plotting comment here for the month if you want to take a peek -- Claude will the usual man about town, working at his apothecary, training, hunting, etc. etc., but with the twist that his sentencing honesty curse is taking hold.

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[ Claude is so strange. It's rare for Ange to have an experience where she looks at another person and sees things that feel deeply relatable, and then some other things that feel wildly unrelatable all at the same time. Usually she just lives within the realm of the latter while learning more about people, and in a few rare cases it's more of the former.

Both of those things coming in equal measures like this feels weirder. And even more when it comes to this particular topic. It feels like one of the more relatable ones, in a sense, but it's like Claude is somehow way less self-aware about it than she is.

Which is weird. How can a guy be this smart, yet this dumb? Is it because he's a man? ]

Your true self can't be an action. [ She points out.

Like, sure, it's kind of like that for Ange too, but at least she actively acknowledges she already threw her life away a long time ago. That she's living on borrowed time until she fulfils her last mission. That's different. ]

Besides, there's no way that covers everything. Is talking to me fulfilling some sort of weird ambition you've got?

On the contrary, aren't the actions we take most revealing of our true selves? Talk is cheap.

[ Lucky for Ange who is, despite Claude's greatest efforts, trying to help him -- trapped in a philosophical conversation with a politician, the sort of fate one would only wish on their worst enemies. Worse yet is that cursed with honesty as he is, Claude truly believes it. ]

And from a certain perspective, being here is fulfilling that ambition! We're out here to explore the city, something we need to do as a means of figuring this place out well enough to escape, which I've got to do to get back home and finish what needs to be done. So, you know.

[ But his expression softens, just a little. ]

I'd be talking with you anyway. But not everything we do is a reflection of ourselves. Unless my true self is enjoying someone else's company? [ He scratches at his chin. ] It may not cover everything, Ange. But it covers most things.

[ Claude may not seem like the sort who's thrown away his life in the same way that Ange has -- but that's another way in which they're wretchedly similar. It is easy when they're born into families like theirs, to stop seeing themselves as people. After all, nobody else does. ]

[ It would be one thing if she was at least trapped in a conversation with a self-aware politician.

Then again, those words might just be a contradiction in and of itself, huh. ]

Claude..

[ It's a little hard to tell the exact emotion in those words. There's something a touch frustrated, an 'are you kidding me right now' sort of expression, even though she can tell that he's being honest, rather than being obtuse on purpose to annoy her. But there's also something a little softer underneath it. Something more worried.

Because she does recognize this. Not even necessarily in a good way, though she feels like Claude's lack of self-awareness about it might mean it's a better case of it than her own.

.. relatively speaking. Which might not be saying much, actually, given how bad Ange's own case is.

But it means she also figures one thing she can ask here. Because she knows her own answer to it. But she also knows that it's bad - yet wrapped up in her sense of self.

Maybe Claude's answer, too, is wrapped up in his own. ]

What is left then, once you fulfil every single ambition you have? [ ... ] Who would you be if you had nothing left to do?

[ Usually, Claude finds that he can navigate most conversations pretty easily. They rarely have himself at the centre of them. Rather, when they do, it's all about ulterior motivations, plays for power, sowing seeds of doubt and intrigue, the sort of thing that he knows how to field. Questions of loyalty, questions of trustworthiness, accusations of pride and greed. Very rarely do people ask him these sorts of probing questions like this, even his closest and fondest allies, content to roll their eyes at his chipper grins, his silly shenanigans, thoroughly bamboozled in every way Claude intends for them to be.

This is different, being that Ange is ultimately asking him for no ulterior motivation than ostensibly giving a shit about him. He's a little startled by how uncomfortable he finds it to be, even as he scrutinizes the emotions behind her words, the way she seems a little put-off by something he considers to be common sense. ]

Even as a hypothetical, that's impossible, [ he says, shaking his head. ] My ambitions will never be fulfilled. I'd count myself lucky if I could see the half of them before I died. But even with two, three, four lifetimes, I don't believe I'd ever see them through.

[ His ambitions are too lofty. He knows that. But he knows, too, that he's insatiable. It will never be enough. He'll always want more change, more advancement, stronger bonds, better conditions, more, more, more.]

That's why everything I am has to be put towards them now, while I'm still above ground. It's not... [ He rubs at his forehead. ] It's not a bad thing, when you're in the position that I am. This is what people like me are supposed to be doing.

[ And what would he do without it? Sleep, probably. Sleep, for a very long time. Eat three square meals a day without looking over his shoulder. And die young, out of sheer boredom. It's a sorry thought. ]

[ For a moment she just stares at him. Then she speaks-- ]

You're so good at talking. You could probably convince anyone of anything. Even yourself.

[ Is that a bad thing? Not necessarily. If anything, Ange feels like it's an ability that must have helped Claude many times in his life, especially if he's striving for so much. Not that Claude doesn't have other talents, but having a silver tongue certainly helps. Ange could know, considering she has the opposite of charisma, never able to make even a single person listen to her. It makes it really hard to get anything at all done that actually involves other people.

She exhales, her shoulders dropping a little as she seems to deflate slightly, a kind of near-fight leaving her. ]

It's not really only a bad thing. I get it. Sometimes stuff has to get done. [ And then you don't have time to stop and think about.. you know, personal happiness? A concept of self? That's a luxury for people whose lives don't involve a constant fight. ] But I can also see why our generous overlords have decided to drop this little task in your lap in particular.

[ Not that she thinks they want better for Claude. She does, but those beings? No way. Ange dislikes them too much to believe that.

But they sure do like confronting them with stuff, that's for sure. ]

You wouldn't see the problem yourself, even if you'd be looking into a mirror.

Being able to convince anyone of anything is what I'm betting on, in the long-run. I'm hoping to change people's minds through speech and policy, not through bloody war.

[ It's not true, is the thing. It's not enough. He runs into this problem time and time again, silver tongue, thick lashes, coy flattery and sweet words be damned. Nobody in Almyra will listen to a Fodlani runt, nobody in Leicester will listen to the Riegan upstart, and as always, he's stuck, stuck, stuck.

He can tell that Ange is frustrated with him. Sad for him, for some reason. But try as he much, he can't figure out why. What's the problem with being focused on his goals, truly? A leader shouldn't be ruled by emotion, for personal gain, for personal grudges, not in the way Edelgard is in fighting this horrible war of hers, the way Dimitri was before he fell off the deep end and then off the face of the map. As far as Claude's concerned, he's doing the right thing. He has to be doing the right thing.

He rubs at his forehead. ] They give us tasks to taunt us, feels like, [ he says, sighing. He still feels as though he needs to convince Ange that what he's saying is right, that it's fine, that he's fine, but it seems like it's precisely that that has her put-off. He sighs. ]

My goals are who I am. Anything less would end in my shirking my duties, and more people than me would pay for that. I mean, for god's sake, I'm a prince, I have two countries to--

[ It's the fucking honesty curse, isn't it? He meant to say leader, he meant to say that he has goals for Leicester, and to that end, his eyes widen, a hand is slapped quickly over his mouth. Goddamn it. ]

[ If Claude had just said he's a prince, Ange likely wouldn't even have batted an eye over it. Considering that people are all sorts of things in this place, prince doesn't even really strike that high up on the weirdness scale of things that people can be in this place. It might be a little bit surprising in the sense that Claude isn't exactly Ange's idea of a prince - sure, she.. guesses he's objectively handsome, maybe? She's never been goods at determining those things, but he seems way more willing to work hard than any prince she's ever heard about - but just as a fact of life? It's pretty normal.

No, what gets her is the fact that he clearly did not mean to say that. It's only when he stops himself and tries to cover up his mouth that the girl raises an eyebrow. ]

.. seriously, Claude? That's your big secret? [ At least she sounds a little less displeased now. Instead she sounds more unimpressed, which is.. a step up? It's a little bit closer to Ange's default way of talking, anyway. ] Is it that bad if people here know you're a prince? I really don't care whether or not you are one, you know.

Ah -- bupbupbupbup, keep your voice down!

[ Claude says, reaching out as though miming slapping his palm over Ange's mouth. He's not suicidal enough to actually do it (she'd get awfully mad at him, and he doesn't care to be the target of her ire), but his meaning is the same, skin gone pale and jaw clenched, thick brows jumping upwards with alarm.

He glances to the side, uttering an oath underneath his breath. ] Damn it all.

[ He hadn't meant to say that. This is one secret that he'd intended to take to his grave, or at least take home with him once he's accomplished everything he can. He knows he can trust Ange. He knows, too, this probably counts as fulfilling his sentence, sharing his true self, but if that's the case, he would have by and large preferred to take another punishment. He rubs at his forehead. ]

It's not people here that I'm worried about. But if this gets out back home, I'm a dead man. It's just better to keep it quiet, all right?

[ It's kind of weird. She usually never sees Claude this worked up over something. And sure, some people might say this doesn't really seem worked up just yet-- but if she's going by what she usually sees from Claude? This is definitely worked up. It's so obvious this isn't something he wanted to tell anyone, even though it seems like such a minuscule and unimportant detail about him to Ange. ]

Yeah, because of course I was planning on coming along with you to your world when all of this is over, just so I can make sure to tell everyone you're a you-know-what.

[ It's a little dry, and she is kind of teasing him with how unimportant this seems to her, but.. it's not like Ange is entirely unfeeling. It shows in the little things. The way she is actually not repeating the word when he seems so worked up about its very mention, and the way she doesn't press the light teasing any further.

If anything, Ange seems to grow a touch more serious as she asks: ]

Why is it such a problem? I mean-- You already act like a politician half of the time. [ And Claude is kind of medieval-y, right?

Back in the time when politicians and royalty were still practically the same thing, rather than the latter being reduced to something more symbolic. It makes the entire thing even more confusing to Ange. ]

Are you undercover or something?

[ Sorry, Claude.

But Ange is just the right combination of naturally nosy and interested enough in Claude and his wellbeing enough that she can't help but ask these things. At least it might help him complete his sentencing.. ]

If you really don't want to answer, just say that. I'm just saying that so you don't feel like I'm trying to force you to talk while you're stuck being honest.

There are people from home here, [ Claude counters, his own alarm making him sharp, harsh, but there's a true undercurrent of fear lacing his words. He does not believe he's truly in any danger, not here and not now -- but he knows how the world works. He knows how it works for him. It will take only a single slip-up for all to fall to ruin, to lose control over Leicester and thus lose the war to the Empire's forces, to then return to Almyra a wretched failure and be rightfully denied the throne, to sit by and be forced to watch as Shahid inevitably wreaks havoc over the border in the way he's always sworn to. They had him followed all the way to the Monastery. Perhaps he is not watched here in Aldrip, but the life of constant surveillance is the only one he's ever known. ] Someone who is allied with the woman who leads the opposing army. I --

[ He rubs at his forehead, taking a deep breath. He's not even this harried when they're fighting against some strange eldritch beast, he knows. This is a weakness he doesn't much like to show and he forces himself to be calm, shoulders slowly and intentionally relaxing, unclenching his jaw.

It's fine. It's just Ange. He trusts her. She will not judge him, not for this. The certainty with which he feels that feels strange, unfamiliar, and almost makes him second-guess that base instinct, but he smothers the feeling, knowing that it's his own worry and not her character that sends him down that path. He softens. ]

...I don't mind telling you. But not out in the open like this.

[ He's so serious about it.

No, rather than just being serious about it-- Claude is bothered about this. It's so clear to see. It's strange in its own way, because Ange doesn't think she has often seen Claude bothered before. Not in this way. She has seen him annoyed about this place, but never personally worried in this sort of way. The closest they got was back when they were chasing down that strange thing that was going on in town, when he started insisting on protecting her.

Ange is quiet, observing that odd look on him for a moment, but then she makes a decision. She doesn't like seeing this on him. And if it's something important enough to get Claude this worried, if it's something that dangerous for him - then she wants to know.

He's not the only one who can do some protecting here, after all. ]

Alright. Come on.

[ The girl reaches out until she's grasped a hold of his hand, starting to use that connection to drag him along down the street. ]

My place is really close to here, and I doubt my housemates are in. They're way too annoyingly social for it. But, just in case.. [ She raises her free hand as they walk, and as it starts to glow with a golden light, butterflies made out of that same light slip out, fluttering in the air. They hover for a moment, and then take off, fluttering in all sorts of directions. ]

Surveillance. [ She explains. ] They'll keep an eye on them for me, and let me know if any of them seem to show any signs of coming home.

[ Though Ange says it all pretty casually, there's a reason she's explaining it in the first place.

This seems so important to Claude, and she wants to show him - in her own way - that she's taking it just as seriously as he is. That she's making sure his secret will be protected, if he wants it to be. No housemates stumbling in on their secret talk. ]

[ When Ange grabs his hand, it's so deeply startling to him that he momentarily forgets how torn up he was about this entire thing, the jolt of a warm hand in his both welcome and alien at the same time, an anchor to moor him to the here and now instead of spiraling down the familiar alleyways of his brain, always chugging too quickly for the rest of him to catch up to it, always going down the worst case scenario. To be touched to help and not to harm is still a frightfully foreign thing to him; perhaps Hilda would lean on his shoulder or grasp at his arm during his peaceful school days, but aside from her, it had only been brief corrections during training, the odd clasp of the shoulder from his father, a ruffle of his hair from his mother, and that was it.

Perhaps it's Ange's own experience with having siblings, even one that was ripped from her too soon. But it at least shuts him up, as does the butterflies spreading out around them, which he watches in mute amazement. She didn't have to do all that. She doesn't even grasp why it's such a big deal in the first place, had rightly pointed out how little it matters to everyone here, even her own housemates, but...

Maybe it's okay for him to tell her after all. Even if his hand is forced, he can think of few he'd rather tell. A little too late, he finds his voice again, uncharacteristically quiet. ]

...I see. [ Green eyes flit about, following the movements of the butterflies glowing in a beacon around them. He follows her steady footsteps down the streets, towards her own home. ]

Thank you, Ange.

[ He means it. ]

[ Ange is relatively quiet. It's hard to tell if it's just because she doesn't want to say anything and risk accidentally bringing up the entire matter if she'd speak up, or if she needs to be quiet to keep her concentration on the butterflies. Either way, all she says is a: ]

Don't mention it.

[ -- all the way until they reach her house. Ange lets go of Claude's hand only then, opening up the door and taking a quick listen inside before stepping in and allowing him to follow her. ]

Seems like my power was right. They're not here. [ Just like the butterflies had informed her through leaving to find her housemates and not returning to her. She imagines they'd head back quickly to warn her if any of them were making movements to go back home - but it means they should have a few moments here where it's just them.

So Ange ushers him over to the couch, telling Claude to give her a moment before disappearing into another room. It doesn't take too long before she's returned with tea - just the one thing Ange can make without setting something in the kitchen on fire. She serves both him and herself a cup before moving to sit down as well, holding onto her own cup of tea. ]

You should be able to speak more freely here, right? I'm the only one listening.

[ In unexpected moments, Ange shows her good breeding, showing Claude to the sitting room (albeit one he imagines is much smaller than the one in her own home), and preparing a cup of tea, taking long enough for him to get his bearings. As agitated as he is by the prospect of sharing his secret like this, he finds he's also embarrassed by his outburst and his visible discomfort. It's unusual for him; most people in his life crow on and on about how shameless he is, and it's a title he wears with more than a little bit of pride. But he is embarrassed of his emotions getting the better of him, just as he needs that extra time to sort out his thoughts as to what he could possibly say to Ange.

Not how much to say to her. That ship has sailed. He may as well tell her the whole story. But to speak with an outsider about it, someone completely unattached to not only Fodlan itself mired in centuries of tradition and religion, but to any world like his own. To Ange, all of this political intrigue must seem like a far off world. It's difficult, he finds, to describe the weight of living it.

Still, he's able to muster up something of a smile as she returns, accepting the tea with a bob of his head and a word of thanks. ]

Yeah. We can speak freely. [ He busies himself with taking a sip of tea as he looks around at the room. It's not that he doesn't trust Ange, but old habits die hard. Evidently satisfied, he looks at her with a hapless little shrug. ] Man, where do I even begin? Once upon a time?

[ He shakes his head with a tiny huff. ]

The basics, I suppose. Yes, I'm a prince. But not a prince of the same land I'm a Duke in. You see, my mother was born into a noble family in Fodlan, the continent that Marianne and I came in here from. And on the border of her land is the country of Almyra, a land that Fodlan's been at war with in one way or another for centuries. She happened to meet the King of Almyra himself on the battlefield, and wouldn't you know it? They fell in love.

[ It's a simple retelling. Like a fairy tale. A beautiful love story, if only there were no consequences to their coupling. ]

Then they had me. Which was not, let me tell you, a popular move. Almyra and Fodlan are still enemies, and harbour terrible thoughts about each other. So when I... [ Fled? No, that sounds so dramatic. ] ...decided to go to Fodlan myself, it seemed wisest to keep my origins a secret.

[ He's understating it. Even underneath a truth spell, he can still wiggle around it here and there. To speak of the true gravity of the situation still seems strange and daunting, as though admitting to it means that he was truly affected by it. Which of course he is, he realizes, but he still doesn't believe he was affected by it to any great extent; rather than allowing it to colour his self-perception, he likes to believe that he has instead allowed it to push him to devote himself to a greater cause. ]

[ One thing is very true here - it is indeed a very, very foreign story to Ange. Not that she hasn't had a whole lot of strange things happen in her own life, but.. stories like these? Of battlegrounds, and warring countries and noble babies that have to hide their backgrounds.. It's so far away from everything in her life, in her world. It's kind of strange to imagine that someone she speaks as casually with as Claude actually lives a life that only exists in stories Ange has read.

.. sure, maybe the wyvern should have been a tip-off, but coincidentally she is much, much more normal to Ange than any of this stuff here. ]

So.. you pretended to just be a duke?

[ You know. Like that's a normal thing. Even the being a duke part of it is kind of wild, considering Ange's family is important more for their money than their name, as most important families are where she comes from. Like modern nobility. ]

And that your father was someone else?

Not quite.

[ Claude closes his eyes for a moment, sighing. It's just so convoluted. Not only did he not originally realize how entrenched his mother was in Fodlan's nobility, but his intentions when he got to Fodlan were far from what actually happened. He hadn't even meant to attend the Academy. It's just how things went, and all of this mess happened solely because his Grandfather offered to send him and Claude, fool that he was, thought it sounded like fun. Like a good chance to learn things, get to know people, change a little here and there from the inside. Dances and feasts and libraries and friendship and all those other things you read about in the stories. ]

My mother's father, my Grandfather, was the Duke of Leicester. With my mother missing and my uncle recently killed in a very suspicious accident, that made me the rightful heir. One that nobody knew existed, but I had the Crest to prove it.

[ He crosses his legs and taps his finger against his knee, grimacing at how truly ridiculous the last few years have been. ]

Which, frankly, I wasn't planning on doing much with. But then shortly after war was declared, my Grandfather passed away, leaving me to rule in his stead. And being that we were at war, I couldn't very well leave. My hands were tied.

[ Well.

That sure is a world, isn't it.

Ange is at least very used to the whole concept of ending up as heir due to a series of very wild circumstances - suspicious deaths included and all - but at least in her case it had never meant all that much. Yeah, sure, there had been the money, but she never cared about that in the first place. It never came with actual other responsibilities, the way it seemed to for Claude. It's hard to imagine actually having to rule in some way.

There's a slight pause. Ange isn't even sipping her tea, like she's solely thinking about what he's telling her here, before she asks: ]

How did you feel about it?

[ Sorry, Claude.

But now you're forced to be honest, this might be the one time she can get an answer like that out of you. ]

Horrible. My grandfather was far kinder to me than anyone could reasonably expect, and he deserved to live out his last days in peace, not war -- and I was only supposed to be in Fodlan for all of a year, not trapped for years trying to field a damn war! Let alone a war in a land whose history I barely understand!

[ He pauses, pressing two fingers to his lips, then shoots a glare at Ange. Not a serious one - he's not angry, not over this; while he'd usually sugarcoat it a fair amount more, Ange is the person he enjoyed complaining with most of all - but he can't help giving her a look anyway. He wags a finger in her direction. ]

Sneaky, [ he says accusingly. ] Not that you could expect much different. What sort of psychopath would be happy about being trapped in a war?

[ Maybe the one who starts the war. Though it chills him, sometimes, how closely his and Edelgard's actual ideals are aligned. If she had only talked to him first, if they could have done something together...

Well. That didn't happen. No sense in dwelling on it. ]

[ Guilty as charged, Claude. Though at least she didn't ask something that didn't have a very likely answer - as Claude himself is pointing out. Still, it's nice to have some confirmation, especially when she can be sure about him telling her the full sentiment in this particular situation. ]

There are people who like that sort of thing. People who love chaos, and violence, and having an excuse to hurt other people. [ Ange's definitely thinking of the witches back home.

She doubts there are any witches involved in the war in Claude's world, but-- it's not like there aren't humans out there who have similar feelings. They could be part of it. ]

.. I'm glad you're not one of those people. Though-- I mean, I wouldn't take you back to my house if I didn't believe you're a good person I can trust. [ She pauses, and then realizes something so rapidly that it makes her quickly put her teacup back down right as she was about to sip. ]

There are, [ Claude admits. He doesn't think that even his enemies feel that way -- Edelgard is chasing after a better life in her own way, after all. But the entire world seems to see battle as some great, noble thing, a way to test your mettle, a way to prove your might to everyone else, a first resort rather than a last one. Claude can't stand it. If they could have all simply spoken instead, if his own family had been open to forging a treaty with a country they truly had no quarrel with, if everyone spent more time living than finding a chivalrous way to die, things could be solved so much more easily. ]

I'd certainly hope you didn't think of me like that, [ Claude says, raising his brows at her, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. A real one this time, not that horrible grimace he'd been parading around with. ] And I'll do my damnedest not to betray that trust -- though I'm surprised I got it out of you without an honesty spell cast on you.

[ He winks at Ange, lightning quick. ]

Philosophically, I'm a pacifist. I haven't been given the luxury to chase down that path, but a fellow can always dream. And I get the impression that you crave violence just about as much as I do.

[ There are some wild things Ange could have said here.

But she is not the one under a honesty spell right now, and there are some things about herself that she would - ironically, or perhaps hypocritically enough - want to still hide from Claude if she could. He's being so nice to her that she doesn't want him to know just yet how little she values her own life.

So rather than going for that, Ange tugs at a stray string on her sleeve before speaking up again with: ]

Do you think you'll ever be able to be that back home? It sounds like your world is pretty.. [ .. What's a diplomatic word. Ange isn't good with diplomatic words, but she's trying, even if it means thinking for a moment. ] .. tumultuous.

[ Nailed it. ]

I do. I do think so.

[ He leans back in his chair, bringing the cup of tea to his mouth, secretly pleased to have some confirmation that he truly believes in his ability to change the world as he knows it. Sometimes he's not sure if he believes it, or if it's a lie he's fed himself to make sure he can keep on going, day after day after day. ]

Don't get me wrong -- I'll probably be dead and buried long before I'd be able to see it truly come to fruition, but that's just all the more reason to survive. Establish treaties and diplomatic bonds, raise my successors, train a staff, implement laws and regulations against discrimination...

[ He's exhausted just thinking about it. ]

It will be a lot of work. But I can do it. All I need is to ascend to the throne, and I'll be able to start making some real changes.

[ Win the war, unify the disparate political groups of Fodlan, establish a sense of stability and make sure to appoint rulers he can collaborate with, go back to Almyra, fight his brothers for the throne, come into power, convince others that a man with Fodlani blood can rule, and then he'll be right on his way.

Easy peasy. If anyone can do it, he can. ]

[ If she was speaking to anyone she doesn't care as much about as she cares about Claude, Ange may have pointed out that this is the sort of thing people say right before they go mad with power. She likes to believe that he'll be better than that though, so she doesn't, instead focusing on this from another angle that she can easily see. ]

I don't know what that is like. Dedicating your whole life to something like that. Especially when you might not even be alive anymore to enjoy the results. [ Sure, Ange has also dedicated the remainder of her life to something.

But it's such a small and selfish goal that she doesn't even dare to compare it to the grand plan for an entire country he's laying out here - like it's nothing. With such confidence, too. ]

I guess.. [ .. the girl's voice trails off.

It's like she's looking for the right words for something. ]

.. I just hope it makes you happy, Claude.

It's what people like us were born to do, if we do it right, [ Claude says. The words flow from him as easily as can be, even with the honestly curse still afflicting his tongue; there is so much in this world he feels deeply uncertain about, but his own sense of responsibility, his own ambitions for the future, his own hopes for the way the future may be -- these are things that he never gets to speak aloud, but are the only things that get him out of bed every morning.

That godawful curse wasn't altogether incorrect. Talking about the nature of his birth is one thing, or about feeling a bit cranky about the way the world has shifted around them, but this? This is, he supposes, the closest he can get to his true self.

Damn it all. He hates it when they're right. ]

And people like us, with our ambitions... all we want is for people like you to be able to live full, happy, healthy lives. People without the sort of power I'm born with should just be able to live in peace.

[ And yes, he's aware that Ange was born rich -- but that's different from having power. When he smiles at her, it reaches his eyes. It's sweet of her to worry, he thinks. He knows how outlandish his plans sound, of course; that's why not a living soul in Fodlan knows about them. Almyra either, for that matter, not after his mother had dismissed them as nothing but childhood fancies. ]

If I can make that happen, I'll be happy, [ he says firmly. ] And I hope you can live in peace once we're eventually freed of this place too.

[ Peace isn't something they see very much of at all, these days. It'll come. ]

[ .. hah.

That last part is so ironic that it's almost kind of funny. Ange doesn't laugh though, obviously. She doesn't react to it at all. She's sure it must have been hard for Claude to throw this all out there, for having been so honest with her today, especially when it wasn't his own choice to do so. The last thing she'd want to force him to do is to react to the truth of her own circumstances while still forced to be honest.

So Ange is quiet, seemingly taking it in for a moment, before she asks: ]

How are you feeling now?

[ She usually hasn't seen people this long at once while they're enduring their sentencing, so she's not sure how exactly it all goes down.. ]

Do you think the whole honesty thing is done now you've talked about all this?

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feintofhart - 2024-10-09 21:32 (UTC) - Expand

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