hot girl summer is over...

[philandery]

CHARACTERS: Sylvain & CR
DATE: Now! and Later!
WARNINGS: Will update as needed but general thottery to be expected...
SUMMARY: Catch-all for closed starters.

Sylvain was recently blursed with a certain pair of undies but I will leave it up to the player whether they wanna deal with it or not! Feel free to PM or Disco (omo#9246) me for plotting!

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LOG 02 (I) // CLAUDE

[philandery]

[ If Sylvain had known he'd end up here, sequestered in a crazy lady's mansion and forced to play the role of prospective subservient malewife, he would've NEVER tried to hit on Madam Vermeer. (And he wasn't even really hitting on her he was just complimenting her dress!! Like a proper gentleman does!!!)

Anyway. He isn't the only one who's been scouted, a number of other passengers and healthy villagers awkwardly occupying the estate. They've been paired off for "training" purposes, expected to take turns waiting on each other, but as soon as Sylvain serves Claude his tea (and sees the Madam retiring elsewhere in the manor) he seats himself across from his schoolmate with a long-suffering sigh. ]

She got you too, huh?

[ At least, the lady is rich enough to afford some nice tea and snacks, which is an improvement over the gruel they've been subsisting on... He eyes one of the cookies in the center spread, deliberating whether it's safe to eat. He at least trusts the tea, which he steeped himself, and helps himself to a cup in the meantime. ]

[shaft]

[ The Madam is kind of inspiring, Claude thinks. That even with all this chaos around them, she's still preoccupied with something so... mundane. Human beings are truly tenacious.

It's out of respect that he plays along, though he couldn't care less about her problems, seating primly at the table while he sips his tea. ]

Now, now. You don't sound like someone eager to be whipped into shape for our gracious hostess' son.

[philandery]

[ Sylvain grins wryly over the rim of his teacup. ]

And you seem awful keen on pleasing. Looking to start a new life here, like you did in Fódlan?

[ —Ah, he realizes how... accusatory that must sound. He takes another swallow and sets his drink down, shaking his head as if to brush away any misunderstandings. ]

I don't mean it in a bad way. But I've been curious... word is you're from Almyra.

[ And what would someone from Almyra suddenly be doing in House Riegan? ]

[shaft]

[ The comment comes so out of the blue that Claude looks visibly taken aback by it, mouth dropping open behind his teacup. It's not like he's oblivious to the fact that his birthplace is present for everyone to view on his profile, but Dimitri had been considerate enough not to bring it up, and Sylvain hadn't seemed to care during their first encounter. (Granted, he'd been too busy being harassed by bees.)

Sylvain says he means no insult by it, but Claude tenses up anyway, mood instantly soured and showing no signs of recovery. ]

And here I thought you were too much of a smooth talker to ask a question like that so bluntly.

[ He's not glaring, but he looks annoyed. Cold. Like he's about to cut Sylvain's existence from his perception. ]

I also didn't realize your curiosity extended beyond wondering what lies beneath a woman's clothing.

[philandery]

[ Sylvain isn't expecting Claude to fumble his easygoing front so thoroughly, and while he's admittedly delighted at finally putting a sizable crack into that exterior, he does realize he's tread somewhere he likely shouldn't have. (It only serves to pique his interest more, and while Sylvain can't see it or feel it, there's a flicker of static across the red digits over his chest, a premonition of movement.)

He knows he has Claude cornered, and he's sure Claude could escape just as easily. So the decision lies in whether he wants to cause harm while he can, or simply back off.

(He doesn't want to do either.) ]

Just tryna keep you on your toes. I'd hate for you to think me boring.

[ He smiles, expression carefully schooled into something neutral, tone neither overly-friendly or disparaging. ]

And since you already know so much about me, [ what a glowing appraisal, truly, and not undeserved, ] and I so little about you...

[ He doesn't finish the sentence, and sits back in his seat instead, his gaze casting off elsewhere. (To another couple nearby trying to follow one of the ridiculous dancing drills the Madam has forced upon them.) It's a small gesture that he's willing to allow Claude some space—or that he realizes Claude obviously doesn't care to associate with him.

Quietly, ] ...I'm not gonna tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about. Not that it even matters here.

[ He doesn't care whether Claude believes him or not. Few do. ]

[shaft]

I don't know anything about you that you haven't willingly broadcasted to the world. [ Is Claude's quick answer, not particularly moved by Sylvain's curiosity.

There is no reason for him to offer up details about himself just because Sylvain is curious. They might be from the same world, but they're still veritable strangers, and he has no delusions about Sylvain holding any interest in him as a person. He's just a scandal—a Fódlan noble born outside its borders—and he's sure that's the extent of Sylvain's investment.

Still, he dials back some of his aggression, regarding the man across from him warily. ]

But you have a point. No one here cares about the difference between one country or the next. [ He still can't bring himself to say Almyra. ] Except you, apparently.

[ He's still not sure what to make of this conversation, though he'd braced himself for it. He feels so blindsided by it that his plans for deflection and escape feel muddy and impossible. Logically, he tells himself, that none of this matters because they have much larger problems to tackle, and that him and Sylvain aren't even from the same timeline (or whatever it is), so whatever he knows is the problem of some other Claude.

Still, it bothers him. He's spent so much effort on controlling what he reveals and how he presents himself, only to be bested by an electronic device.

He just sighs. ]

If you want me to better my opinion of you, ambushing me isn't the best way to go about it.

can't believe sylvain is tone-policing claude

[philandery]

[ Sylvain is starting to bristle, too—even though he's aware he's the one who had brought up the topic in the first place. He just hadn't expected Claude to be this uncivil about it (he really should've), and he's feeling a bit sore from all the ugly assumptions he's had flung at him thus far, out of the blue. Doesn't seem to matter what his intentions are, the outcome never changes.

He knows Claude's wariness is justified. Having spent his own life on the Gautier-Sreng border, and having spoken to Dedue a number of times about the bigotry he endures—can Sylvain pretend to ignore the very real consequences Claude might face for his heritage? And yet... maybe it's all the damn fog and chill and hunger getting to him. Because while he can rationalize the motive behind this exchange, he can't stop a spark of irritation from flaring to the surface. A sharp contrast to his easygoing air, as his eyes narrow in response to Claude's restrained hostility. ]

Right. Because you're dying for a reason to be bosom buddies with me, and because you'd totally give up your life story if I'd asked any other way.

[ He shouldn't be mad. He has nothing at stake, his reputation is already in shambles. Meanwhile, Claude stands to lose everything, if he isn't careful—if they both aren't. Sylvain shouldn't make things worse for either of them, but once he starts on his self-destructive spiral, he tends to drag others down with him. (His number is already starting to tick upward: 582.) ]

We're months into the academy year and nobody knows anything about you. Nobody trusts you—funny how that works.

[ They're just two of a kind, aren't they? Birds of a feather. ]

Now Dimitri seems to think differently, but he's a good guy who sees the best in everyone. [ And it has been made abundantly clear to Sylvain that he, on the other hand, is irredeemable. ]

I don't care where you're from, but I do care if you're hiding something for the wrong reasons.

[ Sylvain's not incapable of seeing the bigger picture—he may only be the good-for-nothing son of a Margrave, but Dimitri and Claude are certainly not. There's more at stake here than playing nice between Houses—and obviously Claude knows that too. ]

[shaft]

[ Claude hackles immediately shoot back up, and he gives Sylvain a withering stare, not particularly surprised by his words, but not revelling in having his weaknesses as a leader thrown in his face. He knows that he doesn't inspire trust, and that no one was particularly relieved for him to appear suddenly as House Riegan's heir, and he doesn't need Sylvain's criticism.

But Faerghans live and breathe loyalty and chivalry, so he's not surprised this is mark by which Sylvain is measuring him. He's not surprised either that he thinks that which he doesn't know is dangerous. Sylvain comes from a border territory after all, it's natural that his instinct would be wary of foreigners.

Even if he claims for that not to be the case. Because the alternative would be that he thinks he's entitled to the stories of everyone he meets, and that's even stupider than being xenophobic. ]

So you want to assess if I'm a threat. [ How interesting! Sylvain discovers that he's from Almyra and suddenly he's keeping secrets for the wrong reasons. ] You're welcome to be suspicious, but excuse me if I don't want to lay bare my history just because you're in the mood to play knight.

[ He can tell this isn't going anywhere, so he pushes himself away from the table, standing up. He looks tired for a moment, weary, before he just sighs and snaps up a cookie from the table before leaving. ]

Good luck charming the Madam's son.

[philandery]

[ It had started off as genuine curiosity, because he had thought Claude was someone easy to talk, hardly fazed by anything that Sylvain might say to him. Interesting in the way he gives nothing away despite how outwardly inquisitive he is.

He didn't want anything out of Claude but had hoped to understand him a little better, maybe gain some perspective on what lies outside of Fódlan. Learn something that might someday help him deal with Sreng—because eventually his family's burden would become his own. He had really thought it might be possible, seeing as they've both been isolated in an entirely new environment, given a blank slate save for what's been recorded in the damned directory.

...And then it had turned into Sylvain trying to give Claude a taste of his own medicine. It doesn't ever feel good to be vindictive—it's always a double-edged weapon. And when Claude rightfully storms off on him, Sylvain can't help but feel the sting of rejection alongside an equally familiar feeling of resignation. The anger deflates from him, replaced by something dull and bitter.

He should've known this would happen. (He never learns.)

He watches as Claude vanishes around the corner, and wordlessly leaves the table himself. ]