[ It's funny, isn't it? He's been here for over a year, more than enough time to become complacent underneath Aldrip's comparatively peaceful lifestyle, used to a life in which he doesn't have to get up and make decisions that could mean life or death for himself and his people, doesn't have to grimly consider a war that kills those he once called friends, doesn't have to bear the burden of planning the deaths of people he would rather break bread with.
And then overnight, he fell right back into it as though he'd never stopped -- never mind the faintly horrified looks his friends and comrades gave him when he'd floated the very real possibility that they had to kill their family and friends, when he'd gotten straight to planning his own offense, when he'd voiced his willingness to get his hands dirty. Forever the pragmatist, Claude has made the effort to secure the safety of those he knows are still in possession of their right minds.
He's had a few run-ins by the time he's caught, an injury here and an injury there, exhaustion already dogging his heels, a sense of impending doom seizing upon his heart. He knows that he must have a reputation among the Gnosia by now, more proactive than his fellows in attempting to neutralize them, but he hadn't expected to be caught now. Stupid, he tells himself. Go out in pairs, not alone. That's what he'd told the others, but he'd wanted to get some supplies, and -- well, no point in regretting it now. It is what it is.
Once he realizes he's been bracketed in, his eyes widen with recognition. ] Not you two too, [ he breathes, sounding genuinely dismayed. He hasn't known the two of them for very long. But he likes them. He likes them a lot. They're quick and principled, determined and intelligent, proactive in a way that belies what he considers to be the kind heart underneath it all.
Unfortunately, that makes them very dangerous enemies indeed. He plasters a smile on his face, looking for the world as cheerful and friendly as ever as his hand moves to his side, reaching for a dagger concealed there. ]
I don't suppose I can convince you fellows to just let a guy go? [ The hilt of his dagger finds its way into his palm, twisted towards his body to conceal it amidst the swaths of fabric of his clothes. ] I'm sure we can make some sort of deal. You know I have all sorts of things that could help benefit your cause.
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And then overnight, he fell right back into it as though he'd never stopped -- never mind the faintly horrified looks his friends and comrades gave him when he'd floated the very real possibility that they had to kill their family and friends, when he'd gotten straight to planning his own offense, when he'd voiced his willingness to get his hands dirty. Forever the pragmatist, Claude has made the effort to secure the safety of those he knows are still in possession of their right minds.
He's had a few run-ins by the time he's caught, an injury here and an injury there, exhaustion already dogging his heels, a sense of impending doom seizing upon his heart. He knows that he must have a reputation among the Gnosia by now, more proactive than his fellows in attempting to neutralize them, but he hadn't expected to be caught now. Stupid, he tells himself. Go out in pairs, not alone. That's what he'd told the others, but he'd wanted to get some supplies, and -- well, no point in regretting it now. It is what it is.
Once he realizes he's been bracketed in, his eyes widen with recognition. ] Not you two too, [ he breathes, sounding genuinely dismayed. He hasn't known the two of them for very long. But he likes them. He likes them a lot. They're quick and principled, determined and intelligent, proactive in a way that belies what he considers to be the kind heart underneath it all.
Unfortunately, that makes them very dangerous enemies indeed. He plasters a smile on his face, looking for the world as cheerful and friendly as ever as his hand moves to his side, reaching for a dagger concealed there. ]
I don't suppose I can convince you fellows to just let a guy go? [ The hilt of his dagger finds its way into his palm, twisted towards his body to conceal it amidst the swaths of fabric of his clothes. ] I'm sure we can make some sort of deal. You know I have all sorts of things that could help benefit your cause.
[ It's not going to work. But he'll always try. ]