[ Well, she certainly didn't stick around for questions... But Dimitri did spot what general direction she was running, and he's faster than she is, so it's not too hard to end up at the Isolation Cabin together.
Granted, she did get a head start, so the door is closed. He knocks, not so mad that he'd try to bust in, but... he is confused, definitely. ]
[She's so focused on getting somewhere away from the others - anywhere away from the others - that she doesn't realize she's been followed. Not until she closes the door behind her, and leans against it to let out a breath.
[Flayn hadn't been expecting Dimitri to ask her to stop by his cabin - but it makes sense that he would want to talk privately, given that they still don't know exactly what is going on in this camp.
The tasks they've been given seem benign enough, but...
[ It's pretty easy to have some time alone in his cabin, what with everyone out and about completing tasks. It's a good thing too, because he doesn't want to put this conversation off for too long.
He opens the door, nodding in greeting as he steps aside to let Flayn in. ]
Sorry to have to call you over like this. I figured it would be the easiest way to speak privately.
[ he could stop by the mess hall, but instead he's out near the isolation cabin, cracking open the door so he can raid the fridge for something cool to drink. seems like he's got company, though. ]
Flayn... are you feeling all right?
[ he isn't even trying to be Overprotective Big Bro here, it's just been a long day now and he's feeling less than stellar himself. has for a while. ]
[Flayn can't imagine that any of them has much of an appetite after what they've seen, but by the time evening rolls around, she knows they're going to have to eat something to keep their strength up.
So she's cooked, and gone to fetch Dimitri, and now it's time for dinner.
She's got two plates of fried rice, one in each hand. The rice is somehow simultaneously underdone and burnt, and the vegetables are unevenly sliced and therefore unevenly cooked - but there's shrimp in there that is, somehow, perfectly done, and the overall flavoring of the dish, while it is on the spicy side, isn't completely overpowering.
It's a marked improvement. Too bad Dimitri won't be able to taste any of it.
Anyway! Time to eat. She sets one down in front of him and one in front of herself.]
[ He hadn't really been in the mood for dinner, but it's true that they need to keep their strength up. And... maybe more than that, they should be there for each other. Even if it means forcing themselves to eat and pretend today wasn't the worst thing in the world.
Politely, quietly: ]
Thank you, Flayn. I'm sorry to inconvenience you like this.
[ He'd gone back to his cabin for a bit after dinner, and hadn't really expected to see Flayn again that night, but. Here we are! He lets her inside without complaint. ]
[Flayn isn't exactly looking for anyone - she's just out for a stroll. And despite, you know, last week's death and the rule about murder and the very real possibility that tomorrow somebody is going to wind up dead overnight, she.
She looks pretty happy?
She's got a pink peony that she's holding and twirling by the stem, looking down and watching it as she walks, and she's got a garland of flowers in her hair. It's sloppily made, but it's the thought that counts, apparently.
[ well... despite everything, it's good to see that she's in good spirits. that must mean something is going okay in hell camp, at least. he smiles at her in greeting as they go off for breakfast.
(that garland, though...) ]
Good morning, Flayn. You seem to be in high spirits.
[ he doesn't wait right by her side to wake up—they've been in enough battles to know that place is suited better for medics and family. he isn't her family. but he hopes they're close enough that she doesn't mind when he creaks open the door and enters, after he's heard that she's awake and resting. ]
Flayn—?
[ there's a quiet, uncertain note to his voice, despite his mood the rest of the day. ]
[flayn isn't exactly expecting him to show, but she's not really expecting him not to show either. she hopes he will. it's a complicated sort of feeling, one she doesn't really have the inclination to examine in much detail, so she ignores it for the moment.
when he eases the door open and steps inside, she looks up]
...Dimitri?
[she's, uh. sitting against the wall. her pillow's behind her, and her blanket is folded so half of it is under her and half of it is over her! she's got the top bunk and can't climb up there, and doesn't want to bleed on her cabinmates' beds. leave her be.]
[ It's dark and it's quiet out, but the moon is very bright and the residual lights around the flowering fields still make it easy enough to navigate. he can't see every bloom, but the stars are bright and twinkling.
so he's out here, carefully sitting amidst the foliage so he doesn't crush anything, letting the breeze sweep over him. he doesn't even hear flayn when she shows up. ]
[there's the sound of footsteps as flayn approaches - but they're sporadic. she seems to be stopping every so often, crouching down to pick a flower before moving on to the next place. she has an armful of them by the time she comes across him.
[Congratulations to the Femblems, who have survived to live another week despite both our efforts. Anyway, since the stables have opened up, Flayn and Dimitri are out for a ride and a picnic this fine afternoon. It's a date, apparently.]
Ahh, I have missed this!
[It's been a while since she's been able to ride. Part of her kind of misses lessons from the monastery - the Professor always had such good pointers - but being able to keep up with this on their own time isn't so bad, either.
There's a not insignificant amount of tension in her shoulders (this whole situation is stressful), but at least she's able to smile. They'll just have to take it one day at a time.]
[ and so the fembles survive long enough to finally see something familiar. the horses aren't quite as fuzzy as the ones back home, but they're good, familiar creatures. riding out like this, dimitri looks... relaxed? maybe for the first time in a month.
it's not a good situation, but it's better. a clear, breezy afternoon and much-appreciated company with someone he favors. a calm moment in an endless storm. ]
It's really been too long.
[ their horses move in a lazy canter across the grass, so it's not a dangerous speed or anything, but it's clear she's got some experience. ]
Did the Professor ever put you on stable duty, Flayn? It seems you're familiar with riding horseback already.
[ Knock knock, hello, here's Dimitri after yet another botched trial. He looks tired enough to match, even if this week wasn't so strenuous physically. It's still a drain. It's still hard. ]
Flayn, do you have a moment? After that trial... I'd like to talk through a few things.
[Flayn is also pretty tired - she's rubbing at one of her eyes when she opens the door to the cabin, which. I guess is empty. Steph's probably with Belph. I don't know where 45 is. Guy is in isolation.
[By the time Flayn comes across Dimitri, it's not the first time she's exchanged memories with someone - but up until now, the memories have been benign enough. Dimitri is probably glad not to have experienced her memories of Sylvain, and might have been amused by her training with Raphael or by her ditching Ferdinand to go eat fried foods in the dining hall.
These are her recent memories - ones that she holds close to her heart - and she expects that, perhaps, what's been shared is what has recently been on her mind. She's been thinking so much of how much she wants to return home to the monastery.
What she isn't expecting is for her memories of the distant past to bubble up to the surface. Her gaze meets Dimitri's as they come across each other, and then suddenly - all at once - he is viewing a battle through her eyes.
...not just viewing, either. She was - and he is, in this moment - in the thick of things. The sound of metal striking against metal, of anguished screams as weapons cut past armor and into skin, rages around from all directions. At the center of the plains, a grizzled, armored man wielding the Sword of the Creator advances toward a green-haired, furious woman.
"Lady Seiros," one of the members of their army breathes as he falls. Flayn - Dimitri - steps toward him, and stretches out a hand that is gripping a staff that may look familiar, but there is a pressure on her shoulder, and firm hands draw her back from the conflict at the middle of the battle. She glances back into the stern face of a man that Dimitri will likely recognize as Seteth, though his hair is styled differently. He shakes his head; that other man is already dead.
What the army lacks in numbers - and it does, despite how large it looks; Nemesis's forces outnumber them by far - Seiros to make up for in strength. She meets the vicious foe blow for blow, and Flayn shakes off Seteth's hand on her shoulder at the sound of screaming from elsewhere on the battle field and runs to where soldiers are facing off against soldiers.
It's these wounded that she tends to, as Seiros battles Nemesis. And there are almost too many of them to count. Some lives she manages to save. Others, she cannot.
She tended to her allies on the field of battle, until she exhausted all her strength—
It's almost too simplistic a retelling. It isn't just her own strength she exhausts. A healer makes an easy target, and Nemesis's forces don't hold back. She had meant it, during the very first trial here, when she said that the stab wound wasn't the worst she'd had - she defends herself from what blows she can, grits her teeth and bears the blows she cannot, and saps the strength from her enemies to knit her own wounds back together as she tries desperately to save even just one more person.
But there are only so many times that Nosferatu can rescue her, and only so many wounds she can possibly heal. There's only so far she can run to try and escape the soldiers who are faster and stronger than her. An arrow has pierced her back; a sword has struck clean through her stomach, and the soldier wielding it wrenches it away. Her blood splatters the ground, and she tries to take a breath.
Gods, but she can feel her life slipping away from her.
"Cethleann!" She is vaguely aware of a lance piercing straight through the swordsman, of him being knocked aside into one of his allies. There's an indistinct form above her, but she can't focus on her father's face. "No. No!"
Her vision blurs, and then turns to black. She feels something wet on her face - tears? Blood? - but she can't tell what it is.
"Cethleann, open your eyes! Please!"
In the next blink, she finds herself back at camp, standing across from Dimitri - and Dimitri, when he looks at her, will see that she looks absolutely stricken. She's frozen up, but she looks almost poised to run.]
[ All Fódlan nobility knows the story of Saint Seiros and the King of Liberation. But their history is more like myth: mysterious and lofty, ephemeral and unreal. It's a thing of godhood, and he is just a mortal man.
What he sees when he meets eyes with Flayn is nothing like that. It's as real as the mud under her shoes, magic glowing at her fingertips time and time again in a battle that stretches on forever. It isn't the story of a saint, but a war. There is Lady Rhea, not in her regal dress but with fury clanging behind every strike of her blade, and people screaming as they're felled, one after another.
She can't save everyone. No one healer can, even Saint Cethleann. But in that moment, he feels the desperation behind her spells, the way steel twists into her flesh and the distant, agonized cries of a father who might outlive his child.
He touches his stomach, expecting to see his—her?—blood in bright, green wetness.
—But it's not there. It's just a memory. Shaken, he staggers back, back balanced against a rough-hewn cabin wall as he blinks back to reality, rain dripping into his eyes. The remnants of pain and bone-deep exhaustion slowly flicker away, and he's left—not for the first time today, after so many years without—wanting to cry. Tears brim in his eyes, voice tight. ]
Flayn—wait.
[ It isn't just history rewritten. It's a revelation about her. The things she's suffered, suddenly and acutely shared. ]
[ let's pretend i'm not late and dimitri is sobering up after a long day of wine. it does make it late—the snow is starting to fall in fat flakes. they'll probably wake up to a layer of it in the morning. dimitri waits for flayn outside her cabin, looking skyward. ]
flayn's gotten some not so great news today. she sets off in search of dimitri in short order after her conversation with [redacted], and she'll scour the camp high and low to find him if she has to. once she does manage to locate him, she opens her mouth to say something, pauses, and then clears her throat to avoid startling him.]
[ It's Monday, so he's back in the memorial hall. The flowers are holding up pretty well, though they'll probably need to replaced again next week. He sits in the quiet of the space, turning to look at Flayn as she approaches. ]
Flayn... something I can do for you?
[ It's not exactly a bright and happy space to stop by, so he suspects she's looking for him in particular. ]
Her mother always said, you cannot turn back the clock - you must always live your life fully, in the present moment. But gods, she wishes she could. If she had even a fraction of Sothis's power, she could turn it back - stop this, all of this, and make sure they were safe. That no one had ever died at all.
But she doesn't, and she can't, and now four people she cares about are dead.
She spends more time than she ought to in her cabin, crying. By the time she emerges, her eyes are bloodshot, and her already-messed-up face is even more of a mess, but she doesn't seem to care about her appearance.
...it's only the fact that Dimitri is sitting by the bonfire that gets her to pay attention to her surroundings. She pauses, and then swallows hard.]
[ Dimitri is the last person in the world to judge anyone for crying. If anything, he doesn't expect to see Flayn at all. It's a balance between respectful distance, and offering her comfort—so he waits to see if she comes out at all.
He has plenty of thoughts to occupy him in the meantime, anyway. He looks to her, meeting her bloodshot eyes with a sad look of his own. ]
...Flayn.
[ He'll just get this out there, because he knows this is a bigger loss for her than it is to him. ]
[ The gardens are quiet this late at night, flowers swaying in the wind. It seems like there'll be some kind of storm tomorrow, with the way the wind passes by tonight.
Flayn is still out here, though. So he stays, sitting quietly beside her. ]
Would you prefer to be alone?
[ He's felt overbearing, today. But he'd like to be there for her, if she wants. ]
[it had taken a moment or two, after black shadows had taken yasusada's body away, for flayn to actually step away from the bonfire. dimitri had caught up to her quickly, and ... well, now they're on the way to the stables.
flayn hasn't spoken a word since her apology to yasusada.
[ how many days are going to go like this? where they just have to stand around and wonder what to say to one another, in the face of... so much sorrow. it's hard with all the hail, but there's no going to the cabins where there's still a buzz of activity, and part of him just wants to get away from it all.
he doesn't know if flayn needs the same sort of distance, but they end up at the stables, which are peaceful but not oppressively silent and empty like his usual haunts. and it's familiar, warm and musty with the weather. he flips back the hood of his raincoat, hail pebbling to the ground.
once they've had a moment to settle, he speaks very quietly. ]
[wow it sure would fucking help if i actually submitted this but HELLO DIMITRI. i'm changing this now on account of new info. we're just combining two things into one here, it's tuesday evening, flayn's eyes are a little red, like she's been crying?
[flayn wars with herself over whether or not she should actually seek dimitri out. on the one hand - she wants desperately to see him again, to know for herself that he is alive and well, that the glitching has stopped, that he isn't going anywhere.
on the other - she played a large role in leading him to his death, and if he still needs more time, it's cruel and selfish of her to try and force this.
...she can't help it. she keeps an eye out for him as she walks the camp that night, and as she's passing by the stables, she hears a noise like someone is in there - and so, damn her, she looks.]
[ Dimitri is here, trying to coax one of the horses into paying attention to him. They're usually very well-behaved, but something about his ridiculous, fuzzy ears seems to be setting them off. He's gently patting the snout of one mare when he hears Flayn's voice, glancing over. ]
—Flayn.
[ It's not a cold greeting, but it's not exactly the grand, emotional reunion they should have. It's not quite like the island, either. He's not sure where they stand, and there's a measure of caution in the distance between them.
He doesn't like it (he hates it, actually, unnatural and uncomfortable as it is), but he keeps it for now, speaking quietly. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fishingforcompliments) wrote2020-06-06 10:49 pm
w0; sunday
Granted, she did get a head start, so the door is closed. He knocks, not so mad that he'd try to bust in, but... he is confused, definitely. ]
—Flayn.
no subject
That's when she hears his voice. She freezes.]
...Dimitri.
[Oh, gods. Did he see?]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
w0, monday
The tasks they've been given seem benign enough, but...
Anyway.
Knock, knock, knock! Here she is.]
no subject
He opens the door, nodding in greeting as he steps aside to let Flayn in. ]
Sorry to have to call you over like this. I figured it would be the easiest way to speak privately.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
2/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
w0, friday
Flayn... are you feeling all right?
[ he isn't even trying to be Overprotective Big Bro here, it's just been a long day now and he's feeling less than stellar himself. has for a while. ]
no subject
I... [She doesn't want to say it. She knows what happened last time she felt like this, and speaking it makes it feel more real.] I feel feverish.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
w0, sunday 2.0
So she's cooked, and gone to fetch Dimitri, and now it's time for dinner.
She's got two plates of fried rice, one in each hand. The rice is somehow simultaneously underdone and burnt, and the vegetables are unevenly sliced and therefore unevenly cooked - but there's shrimp in there that is, somehow, perfectly done, and the overall flavoring of the dish, while it is on the spicy side, isn't completely overpowering.
It's a marked improvement. Too bad Dimitri won't be able to taste any of it.
Anyway! Time to eat. She sets one down in front of him and one in front of herself.]
...here you are. I hope it is to your liking...
no subject
Politely, quietly: ]
Thank you, Flayn. I'm sorry to inconvenience you like this.
[ He looks over her dish curiously. ]
This is... fried rice, right?
(no subject)
w0, sunday 2.0, after talking to asch. closes eyes.
TOO BAD.
Wherever he happens to be, Flayn is looking for him, and while she doesn't exactly look furious, she definitely seems disgruntled.]
Pardon me, Dimitri. May I have a moment of your time?
no subject
Of course. Is there something you need from me?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
w1, wednesday morning
She looks pretty happy?
She's got a pink peony that she's holding and twirling by the stem, looking down and watching it as she walks, and she's got a garland of flowers in her hair. It's sloppily made, but it's the thought that counts, apparently.
Also, she's humming to herself.]
no subject
(that garland, though...) ]
Good morning, Flayn. You seem to be in high spirits.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
w1 thursday
Flayn—?
[ there's a quiet, uncertain note to his voice, despite his mood the rest of the day. ]
no subject
when he eases the door open and steps inside, she looks up]
...Dimitri?
[she's, uh. sitting against the wall. her pillow's behind her, and her blanket is folded so half of it is under her and half of it is over her! she's got the top bunk and can't climb up there, and doesn't want to bleed on her cabinmates' beds. leave her be.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
w1, saturday, post-trial
so he's out here, carefully sitting amidst the foliage so he doesn't crush anything, letting the breeze sweep over him. he doesn't even hear flayn when she shows up. ]
no subject
her eyes widen slightly.]
—Dimitri...
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
w2, monday
Ahh, I have missed this!
[It's been a while since she's been able to ride. Part of her kind of misses lessons from the monastery - the Professor always had such good pointers - but being able to keep up with this on their own time isn't so bad, either.
There's a not insignificant amount of tension in her shoulders (this whole situation is stressful), but at least she's able to smile. They'll just have to take it one day at a time.]
no subject
it's not a good situation, but it's better. a clear, breezy afternoon and much-appreciated company with someone he favors. a calm moment in an endless storm. ]
It's really been too long.
[ their horses move in a lazy canter across the grass, so it's not a dangerous speed or anything, but it's clear she's got some experience. ]
Did the Professor ever put you on stable duty, Flayn? It seems you're familiar with riding horseback already.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
w2, saturday, post-trial
Flayn, do you have a moment? After that trial... I'd like to talk through a few things.
no subject
Anyway.]
Of course. What did you wish to discuss..?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
this tag aged really poorly
holy shit, it sure did.
(no subject)
(no subject)
w3, monday
These are her recent memories - ones that she holds close to her heart - and she expects that, perhaps, what's been shared is what has recently been on her mind. She's been thinking so much of how much she wants to return home to the monastery.
What she isn't expecting is for her memories of the distant past to bubble up to the surface. Her gaze meets Dimitri's as they come across each other, and then suddenly - all at once - he is viewing a battle through her eyes.
...not just viewing, either. She was - and he is, in this moment - in the thick of things. The sound of metal striking against metal, of anguished screams as weapons cut past armor and into skin, rages around from all directions. At the center of the plains, a grizzled, armored man wielding the Sword of the Creator advances toward a green-haired, furious woman.
"Lady Seiros," one of the members of their army breathes as he falls. Flayn - Dimitri - steps toward him, and stretches out a hand that is gripping a staff that may look familiar, but there is a pressure on her shoulder, and firm hands draw her back from the conflict at the middle of the battle. She glances back into the stern face of a man that Dimitri will likely recognize as Seteth, though his hair is styled differently. He shakes his head; that other man is already dead.
What the army lacks in numbers - and it does, despite how large it looks; Nemesis's forces outnumber them by far - Seiros to make up for in strength. She meets the vicious foe blow for blow, and Flayn shakes off Seteth's hand on her shoulder at the sound of screaming from elsewhere on the battle field and runs to where soldiers are facing off against soldiers.
It's these wounded that she tends to, as Seiros battles Nemesis. And there are almost too many of them to count. Some lives she manages to save. Others, she cannot.
She tended to her allies on the field of battle, until she exhausted all her strength—
It's almost too simplistic a retelling. It isn't just her own strength she exhausts. A healer makes an easy target, and Nemesis's forces don't hold back. She had meant it, during the very first trial here, when she said that the stab wound wasn't the worst she'd had - she defends herself from what blows she can, grits her teeth and bears the blows she cannot, and saps the strength from her enemies to knit her own wounds back together as she tries desperately to save even just one more person.
But there are only so many times that Nosferatu can rescue her, and only so many wounds she can possibly heal. There's only so far she can run to try and escape the soldiers who are faster and stronger than her. An arrow has pierced her back; a sword has struck clean through her stomach, and the soldier wielding it wrenches it away. Her blood splatters the ground, and she tries to take a breath.
Gods, but she can feel her life slipping away from her.
"Cethleann!" She is vaguely aware of a lance piercing straight through the swordsman, of him being knocked aside into one of his allies. There's an indistinct form above her, but she can't focus on her father's face. "No. No!"
Her vision blurs, and then turns to black. She feels something wet on her face - tears? Blood? - but she can't tell what it is.
"Cethleann, open your eyes! Please!"
In the next blink, she finds herself back at camp, standing across from Dimitri - and Dimitri, when he looks at her, will see that she looks absolutely stricken. She's frozen up, but she looks almost poised to run.]
no subject
What he sees when he meets eyes with Flayn is nothing like that. It's as real as the mud under her shoes, magic glowing at her fingertips time and time again in a battle that stretches on forever. It isn't the story of a saint, but a war. There is Lady Rhea, not in her regal dress but with fury clanging behind every strike of her blade, and people screaming as they're felled, one after another.
She can't save everyone. No one healer can, even Saint Cethleann. But in that moment, he feels the desperation behind her spells, the way steel twists into her flesh and the distant, agonized cries of a father who might outlive his child.
He touches his stomach, expecting to see his—her?—blood in bright, green wetness.
—But it's not there. It's just a memory. Shaken, he staggers back, back balanced against a rough-hewn cabin wall as he blinks back to reality, rain dripping into his eyes. The remnants of pain and bone-deep exhaustion slowly flicker away, and he's left—not for the first time today, after so many years without—wanting to cry. Tears brim in his eyes, voice tight. ]
Flayn—wait.
[ It isn't just history rewritten. It's a revelation about her. The things she's suffered, suddenly and acutely shared. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
w3, wednesday night
no subject
...Dimitri? You may catch a chill out there - please, come inside.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
w4, monday
flayn's gotten some not so great news today. she sets off in search of dimitri in short order after her conversation with [redacted], and she'll scour the camp high and low to find him if she has to. once she does manage to locate him, she opens her mouth to say something, pauses, and then clears her throat to avoid startling him.]
...Dimitri?
no subject
Flayn... something I can do for you?
[ It's not exactly a bright and happy space to stop by, so he suspects she's looking for him in particular. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
w4, friday
Her mother always said, you cannot turn back the clock - you must always live your life fully, in the present moment. But gods, she wishes she could. If she had even a fraction of Sothis's power, she could turn it back - stop this, all of this, and make sure they were safe. That no one had ever died at all.
But she doesn't, and she can't, and now four people she cares about are dead.
She spends more time than she ought to in her cabin, crying. By the time she emerges, her eyes are bloodshot, and her already-messed-up face is even more of a mess, but she doesn't seem to care about her appearance.
...it's only the fact that Dimitri is sitting by the bonfire that gets her to pay attention to her surroundings. She pauses, and then swallows hard.]
...Dimitri...
no subject
He has plenty of thoughts to occupy him in the meantime, anyway. He looks to her, meeting her bloodshot eyes with a sad look of his own. ]
...Flayn.
[ He'll just get this out there, because he knows this is a bigger loss for her than it is to him. ]
I'm so sorry.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
w4, saturday
Flayn is still out here, though. So he stays, sitting quietly beside her. ]
Would you prefer to be alone?
[ He's felt overbearing, today. But he'd like to be there for her, if she wants. ]
no subject
[slowly, she shakes her head.]
No, I... [...] ...please do not leave me.
[her voice comes out very, very quietly.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
w4, sunday
flayn hasn't spoken a word since her apology to yasusada.
she doesn't know what to say.]
no subject
he doesn't know if flayn needs the same sort of distance, but they end up at the stables, which are peaceful but not oppressively silent and empty like his usual haunts. and it's familiar, warm and musty with the weather. he flips back the hood of his raincoat, hail pebbling to the ground.
once they've had a moment to settle, he speaks very quietly. ]
Flayn.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
w5, thursday
flayn's carrying a pot of tea, some teacups, and some snacks that ... do not look suspiciously burnt? it's a miracle. anyway, onward!]
Thank you for accompanying me, Dimitri.
w5, tuesday
weird.
anywhere, where's he at.]
no subject
he ceases his work very quickly to blink up at her, faintly alarmed. he's cried enough in his life to see it in her face. ]
Flayn? What's wrong?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
w6, saturday
on the other - she played a large role in leading him to his death, and if he still needs more time, it's cruel and selfish of her to try and force this.
...she can't help it. she keeps an eye out for him as she walks the camp that night, and as she's passing by the stables, she hears a noise like someone is in there - and so, damn her, she looks.]
...Dimitri...?
no subject
—Flayn.
[ It's not a cold greeting, but it's not exactly the grand, emotional reunion they should have. It's not quite like the island, either. He's not sure where they stand, and there's a measure of caution in the distance between them.
He doesn't like it (he hates it, actually, unnatural and uncomfortable as it is), but he keeps it for now, speaking quietly. ]
Were you looking for me?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
2/2
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...