[Spoken as a woman from a land where men came of age at fifteen, but… She doesn’t even know why that’s what she’s protesting, it just slides out because it’s the only thing that she can actually make sense of that quickly. Compared to how could he even remember her but somehow be six years older?
- He shivers. She notices, because she had been doing the same. Did that mean… ?]
Where is it you have been? They told us that Horos was gone.
[That’s talking, isn’t it? - Not about what happened to her.]
[In the eyes of Fódlan nobility he was still a schoolboy back then, albeit one who still engaged in battle and government, so the difference is basically semantic. He doesn't bother to correct her, instead shrugging.]
From my perspective, it feels like I went home and experienced all that time passing. Maybe Cyrus was right, and our homes really aren't gone, not completely. Or... It's just another sign time works in a weird way for Shardbearers brought here.
[The more likely explanation, he thinks, given how Byleth and Dimitri are here, but they're not quite the people he knew -- Byleth, especially.]
But enough about me. You haven't been holed up in here all this time, have you? What's going on?
[There is no denying that Hayame pays sharper attention when Claude says that he was in his home for those six years. Was it desperate for her to cling to any proof that their worlds were still "alive"? Perhaps. But it makes so much more sense to her than the idea that they could simply be gone, that time could be so strange, and any ounce of proof...]
He must be right.
[- She still can't quite say "is", though. She wishes she could.
When it comes to herself, however... her expression grows cagier. Her fingers curl and fist in the shavings on the floor of her stall. She should get up- she shouldn't let a shard-bearer see her like this, the citizens of Meridian, fine, but...
But.]
So what if I have?
[She goes to defensive rather than honesty on instinct.]
In case you missed it... Meridian was defeated. Why should I want to show my face and invite the shame of Springstar?
I didn't miss it... I just didn't think you were the type to throw a pity party about it.
[His words are blunt, but if he can provoke Hayame into more than just lying around looking such a sorry sight, it'll be worth getting her anger directed at him. He rests his arms on the stall door, glancing along the stable.]
Hanging out here with a bunch of horses can't be doing your mood any favours, either. No offence to them, but I'm sure we can find somewhere a little more dignified for you to relax. What do you say?
[Her reaction to that is a bit slower than it might have been on another day, but it does come out... predictably defensive, summoning up some of her reserves of anger she might had thought lost to... something like self-pity, if she were being honest. (But she rarely was, not with this sort of thing.)]
And I do not hang out with horses. Where else do you expect a jinba to go?
[A house?
... But neither of those are necessarily what makes her unable, or unwilling, to leave. There's a moment when she almost doesn't say it. After a stumble, another flick of her dry, tangled mane across the bedding before she averts her gaze.]
... My hooves are cracking.
[It is painful to walk. There. Is he happy to hear it?]
[He peeks down at her hooves, surprised to have gotten the truth out of her, then back up to her face. She does look as rough as he feels, but at least he's able to get around with comparatively little trouble. He can only imagine that it would be difficult for her.
And while he's no expert, he can't just leave her like this, so:]
How about I track down a farrier? Would you let them take a look? Then I can go give Cyrus an earful for not giving you any proper accomodations.
[On instinct, she tries to hide them, even though she'd grudgingly admitted to the weakness, pulling her long dun legs in as close to her belly as she can. For the other members of their faction, brittle nails were an inconvenience, an eerie reminder of withering in their failure... yet to a woman with hooves? It was not crippling, but.]
- I already spoke to a... farrier.
[Like a fucking horse. Her lips pursing to try and prevent them from curling into a sneer (or something more pathetic), reaching into her waist pouch and pulling out a vial... that she tch's over.]
Their oils and salves aren't working.
[Because the cause... wasn't physical. A part of her knows that. But what is she supposed to do?
She doesn't even realize at first what else he'd said. These were proper accommodations. The stalls even had wooden shavings, unlike the plain dirt of her "home".]
[The worst he's had in that regard is dry skin, though it's more an inconvenience than anything, and not difficult to hide with gloves and the like. It's the chills, the sluggishness, the emotional effects he finds more troubling -- and they seem to feel worse the longer he spends here in the stable. Perhaps all of them are similarly suffering in the same way.]
Then, do you want anything to eat? Or drink? If moving around's a pain, I can bring you stuff.
[The chills, strangely enough… Hayame was familiar with. She had spent more than a month shivering and curling in on herself beneath useless blankets in the corner of her stall after the dryad had cursed her in the wake of those “trials” in the Tree, and this… it was a similar coldness.
One that just made her want to… to debase herself. To curl up with someone else. To bury her head in a warm chest and be not alone, or…
Except no. She doesn’t actually know how that feels. She’d never let herself do it- be that weak. She thinks… maybe once, she had let someone lay against her flank. But that man’s face and the circumstances of that touch were lost somewhere in the crack across her shard, and now…]
I do not need a nursemaid, or pity, or-
[… What?
The vial of oil is tossed angrily aside, she wishes he would just go away and leave her to her shake in peace, she wishes someone would stay so she wouldn’t ache by herself in this gods damned stable with its nosy horses and grooms, and just-]
… Why did you even come here? It has been six years.
[To him, apparently. Six years. She should be nothing but a distant memory of an ornery woman.]
It felt like someone with a Shard was in here. I wanted to check I wasn't imagining things, so I got curious.
[...And, yes, he did overhear the stablehands gossiping, but maybe he'll tactfully leave that part out that people are complaining about her.]
We were allies back then, right? As far as I'm concerned we still are, and allies look out for each other. Oh, and don't give me the-- [He pauses and tosses his head dramatically, as if he too has an majestic mane, but mostly just succeeds in flipping his hair slightly,] --"I don't need help, I'm super tough" thing, because I won't buy it.
[So she had been just a twist of luck. A curiosity that had been followed. ... Of course. It made more sense that way. There is a moment when he "tosses" his hair when she glares as if debating whether to take insult with his behavior, to make another issue of it... But she is so tired. And cold. And...
Lonely. She is lonely, and he hasn't been scared off as quickly as the others.]
... And what battle are we fighting now, ally, that you think I need you by my side?
Hayame doesn’t know whether he’s a fool or he thinks she is. She stares (glares) at him from where she half lays on the bed of shaved wood, her blanket at least accurately thin. She knows (she thinks) what he wants, but why… Why did she want it, too? Why was the idea of refraining from it so offensive to her?
She does not know, and so… she bites. Or maybe it’s just a bark.]
Will you not win the battle far more easily with someone different at your flank?
This battle is to save a downed ally, and that ally is you. So it would defeat the purpose if I went off to battle with someone else, wouldn't it?
[She's running with his silly metaphor instead of telling him to get lost, so he decides to put his neck on the line and opens the stable door, shrugging off his heavy cloak as he does so.]
Here, you can have this. [And assuming she doesn't get up to stomp him to death, he'll drape the cloak around her shoulders and along her equine flank. It might not be jinba-sized, but it's something.]
[The semantics are grit out as if even she knows how arbitrary it is to argue them, but she just can't help herself. She also... can't help but be shocked that he just lets himself in to her stall. Hayame had been raised in one without a door, and somehow... even though a normal human would surely blanche at how little privacy there was in her current living arrangements, it had been a huge step up for her to even have that half-height door.]
Wh-
[But because she's laying down, she can't... he gets the cloak over her before she can protest or move out of the way, and though she grabs it as if she's about to rip it off... her hand clutches the heavy hem instead.
[Claude crouches down so they're at eye level, deciding he's more comfortable with that than standing over her.]
But it'll make you feel a little better. Even if it's just to get annoyed at me instead of focusing on feeling cold and miserable.
[He's still cold himself, and the absence of his cloak isn't making much difference to that, but he instinctively crosses his arms and hunches his shoulders as if to huddle up and keep warm regardless.]
So why don't we hang out for a bit? You have your own personal nuisance to distract you.
The chill is in our shards, not our bodies. Take it back, I did not ask for it-
[It is belated, yes, but she still tries to do it, awkwardly trying to shuck off his rather large cloak and maintain an angry look his way while also suppressing how much she wanted to just wallow in her misery.]
The dryad cursed me similarly before, so do not tell me I do not know what I am talking about.
[The cloak flies awkwardly and weakly at his head.]
[He fumbles to catch the cloak, startled, and draws it back around his shoulders.]
So are you saying jinba shards are different too? I don't think that's how it works. But if you're so worried about my fragile little human shard, how about we try this?
[He scoots over and sits down next to her, wrapping the cloak around both their shoulders.]
[She snaps it as if it should be obvious that she means resistance to the cold. Throw a human naked into the snow and they'll be dead within the day, but a jinba could last a week, if not more, as long as they could keep moving...
But if she meant to say more, it changes immediately when he just... sits next to her, as if she'd allowed it, as if she wanted someone that close to her, touching her-]
Who the hell do you think you are?
[Her first thought is to shove, and she does, sending him tumbling further down her flank.]
[People do not... play in a jinba breeding stable outpost. Even as a child, Hayame had never engaged in the sort of antics most young people indulged in when learning how to interact with their peers and form bonds. Games, playing different roles, little performances... the closest thing were perhaps races and contests of strength. But when those were twisted into ways to observe their growth and rank them for Exhibition Day...
Needless to say, Hayame is not a woman who knows how to react appropriately to this sort of... playful banter or dramatics.]
If I wanted to wound you, you'd actually be wounded!
[... But he's warm. Even to someone like her, whose body temperature ran higher than a human's, which makes it clear to her that... it was an unnatural sort of warmth. Shards. Being shard-bearers. Something. Something she is tempted not to let go of, even though it should be shameful to let a man touch her like this, in her stall of all places-]
Stay on my flank if you're going to be so audacious!
[She evidently doesn't have a sense of humour, so he'll stop feigning classic Fire Emblem death dialogue and instead get comfortable against the warmth of her side. He can already feel a little of the chill subsiding, the feeling of being alone ebbing away.
Then, nonchalantly, like he's just remarking on the weather:]
You know, a bowstring can't stay taut forever. The same is true of people.
[Even this... is so much. To her credit, Hayame almost tries to pretend that it isn't. That she was such a shameless woman that she let men lean their bodies against her all the time, this was nothing new, but. She is not a good actress. The longer he leans against her flank, his body moving slightly up and down along with the breath in her larger set of lungs, the more she...
Blushes.
To the point that she has to look away and hide her face, not wanting it to be seen even though the red flush can still be noted on the tips of her ears and the back of her neck. It's a perfect position to see her long bow laying against the wall of her stall... unstrung.
Perfect.]
- the least you could do is tell an entertaining tale if you are going to force your company on me.
[As if he hadn't said anything at all. As if it wasn't like... she didn't know. She just had to make it to her goal before she snapped, she was supposed to only be a single night away from her end, but then it became months in Horos, months in Kenos...]
[The blush doesn't escape Claude's notice even as she looks away, but he's still trying to be as respectful as possible despite... everything, so it goes unremarked. He's keeping his hands to himself and trying not to fidget to avoid annoying her, besides drawings his knees up up to try to better keep himself warm.]
An entertaining tale? I have plenty. How about the time I crossed a desert looking for treasure, and got way more than I bargained for?
[It's such a wild story she might just dismiss it as invention... but then again, she's been around Horos and Kenos long enough that believability has surely been stretched for her by now.]
[She asks him for a tale as if she likes stories, when in fact, she does not. Even from a young age, Hayame had seen the falsehood and exaggerated magnificence of such things as pointless, longed for something real to aspire for instead… even when her brother had asked her for them, she had sent him back to his stall alone without one more often than not.
But it was something to do. Something to fill the air to make it seem like there could be a reason she was letting this impudent human who was suddenly six years older (older than her, now), lean shamelessly against her side. Something that wasn’t the weakness of craving another’s warmth in the cold loss of an Oracle they didn’t understand.]
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[Spoken as a woman from a land where men came of age at fifteen, but… She doesn’t even know why that’s what she’s protesting, it just slides out because it’s the only thing that she can actually make sense of that quickly. Compared to how could he even remember her but somehow be six years older?
- He shivers. She notices, because she had been doing the same. Did that mean… ?]
Where is it you have been? They told us that Horos was gone.
[That’s talking, isn’t it? - Not about what happened to her.]
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From my perspective, it feels like I went home and experienced all that time passing. Maybe Cyrus was right, and our homes really aren't gone, not completely. Or... It's just another sign time works in a weird way for Shardbearers brought here.
[The more likely explanation, he thinks, given how Byleth and Dimitri are here, but they're not quite the people he knew -- Byleth, especially.]
But enough about me. You haven't been holed up in here all this time, have you? What's going on?
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He must be right.
[- She still can't quite say "is", though. She wishes she could.
When it comes to herself, however... her expression grows cagier. Her fingers curl and fist in the shavings on the floor of her stall. She should get up- she shouldn't let a shard-bearer see her like this, the citizens of Meridian, fine, but...
But.]
So what if I have?
[She goes to defensive rather than honesty on instinct.]
In case you missed it... Meridian was defeated. Why should I want to show my face and invite the shame of Springstar?
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[His words are blunt, but if he can provoke Hayame into more than just lying around looking such a sorry sight, it'll be worth getting her anger directed at him. He rests his arms on the stall door, glancing along the stable.]
Hanging out here with a bunch of horses can't be doing your mood any favours, either. No offence to them, but I'm sure we can find somewhere a little more dignified for you to relax. What do you say?
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[Her reaction to that is a bit slower than it might have been on another day, but it does come out... predictably defensive, summoning up some of her reserves of anger she might had thought lost to... something like self-pity, if she were being honest. (But she rarely was, not with this sort of thing.)]
And I do not hang out with horses. Where else do you expect a jinba to go?
[A house?
... But neither of those are necessarily what makes her unable, or unwilling, to leave. There's a moment when she almost doesn't say it. After a stumble, another flick of her dry, tangled mane across the bedding before she averts her gaze.]
... My hooves are cracking.
[It is painful to walk. There. Is he happy to hear it?]
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[He peeks down at her hooves, surprised to have gotten the truth out of her, then back up to her face. She does look as rough as he feels, but at least he's able to get around with comparatively little trouble. He can only imagine that it would be difficult for her.
And while he's no expert, he can't just leave her like this, so:]
How about I track down a farrier? Would you let them take a look? Then I can go give Cyrus an earful for not giving you any proper accomodations.
[The last part is a joke... at least for now.]
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- I already spoke to a... farrier.
[Like a fucking horse. Her lips pursing to try and prevent them from curling into a sneer (or something more pathetic), reaching into her waist pouch and pulling out a vial... that she tch's over.]
Their oils and salves aren't working.
[Because the cause... wasn't physical. A part of her knows that. But what is she supposed to do?
She doesn't even realize at first what else he'd said. These were proper accommodations. The stalls even had wooden shavings, unlike the plain dirt of her "home".]
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[The worst he's had in that regard is dry skin, though it's more an inconvenience than anything, and not difficult to hide with gloves and the like. It's the chills, the sluggishness, the emotional effects he finds more troubling -- and they seem to feel worse the longer he spends here in the stable. Perhaps all of them are similarly suffering in the same way.]
Then, do you want anything to eat? Or drink? If moving around's a pain, I can bring you stuff.
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One that just made her want to… to debase herself. To curl up with someone else. To bury her head in a warm chest and be not alone, or…
Except no. She doesn’t actually know how that feels. She’d never let herself do it- be that weak. She thinks… maybe once, she had let someone lay against her flank. But that man’s face and the circumstances of that touch were lost somewhere in the crack across her shard, and now…]
I do not need a nursemaid, or pity, or-
[… What?
The vial of oil is tossed angrily aside, she wishes he would just go away and leave her to her shake in peace, she wishes someone would stay so she wouldn’t ache by herself in this gods damned stable with its nosy horses and grooms, and just-]
… Why did you even come here? It has been six years.
[To him, apparently. Six years. She should be nothing but a distant memory of an ornery woman.]
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[...And, yes, he did overhear the stablehands gossiping, but maybe he'll tactfully leave that part out that people are complaining about her.]
We were allies back then, right? As far as I'm concerned we still are, and allies look out for each other. Oh, and don't give me the-- [He pauses and tosses his head dramatically, as if he too has an majestic mane, but mostly just succeeds in flipping his hair slightly,] --"I don't need help, I'm super tough" thing, because I won't buy it.
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Lonely. She is lonely, and he hasn't been scared off as quickly as the others.]
... And what battle are we fighting now, ally, that you think I need you by my side?
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[He leans in over the door, voice lowered conspiratorially as if the horses might overhear.]
...The battle to be cosy. Somehow I don't think sleeping on the ground with a thin little blanket is going to cut it.
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Hayame doesn’t know whether he’s a fool or he thinks she is. She stares (glares) at him from where she half lays on the bed of shaved wood, her blanket at least accurately thin. She knows (she thinks) what he wants, but why… Why did she want it, too? Why was the idea of refraining from it so offensive to her?
She does not know, and so… she bites. Or maybe it’s just a bark.]
Will you not win the battle far more easily with someone different at your flank?
[It’s not an immediate “no”.]
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[She's running with his silly metaphor instead of telling him to get lost, so he decides to put his neck on the line and opens the stable door, shrugging off his heavy cloak as he does so.]
Here, you can have this. [And assuming she doesn't get up to stomp him to death, he'll drape the cloak around her shoulders and along her equine flank. It might not be jinba-sized, but it's something.]
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[The semantics are grit out as if even she knows how arbitrary it is to argue them, but she just can't help herself. She also... can't help but be shocked that he just lets himself in to her stall. Hayame had been raised in one without a door, and somehow... even though a normal human would surely blanche at how little privacy there was in her current living arrangements, it had been a huge step up for her to even have that half-height door.]
Wh-
[But because she's laying down, she can't... he gets the cloak over her before she can protest or move out of the way, and though she grabs it as if she's about to rip it off... her hand clutches the heavy hem instead.
It's warm. But her body is not-]
It is not that kind of cold.
[Idiot.]
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But it'll make you feel a little better. Even if it's just to get annoyed at me instead of focusing on feeling cold and miserable.
[He's still cold himself, and the absence of his cloak isn't making much difference to that, but he instinctively crosses his arms and hunches his shoulders as if to huddle up and keep warm regardless.]
So why don't we hang out for a bit? You have your own personal nuisance to distract you.
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[It is belated, yes, but she still tries to do it, awkwardly trying to shuck off his rather large cloak and maintain an angry look his way while also suppressing how much she wanted to just wallow in her misery.]
The dryad cursed me similarly before, so do not tell me I do not know what I am talking about.
[The cloak flies awkwardly and weakly at his head.]
You're the human, jinba don't get cold as easy.
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[He fumbles to catch the cloak, startled, and draws it back around his shoulders.]
So are you saying jinba shards are different too? I don't think that's how it works. But if you're so worried about my fragile little human shard, how about we try this?
[He scoots over and sits down next to her, wrapping the cloak around both their shoulders.]
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[She snaps it as if it should be obvious that she means resistance to the cold. Throw a human naked into the snow and they'll be dead within the day, but a jinba could last a week, if not more, as long as they could keep moving...
But if she meant to say more, it changes immediately when he just... sits next to her, as if she'd allowed it, as if she wanted someone that close to her, touching her-]
Who the hell do you think you are?
[Her first thought is to shove, and she does, sending him tumbling further down her flank.]
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Ahh, I'm mortally wounded! Woe is me. But I can't give up on my battle just yet...
[He still doesn't move, though. He's dying, Hayame. Have pity on him. (Also, she's warm.)]
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Needless to say, Hayame is not a woman who knows how to react appropriately to this sort of... playful banter or dramatics.]
If I wanted to wound you, you'd actually be wounded!
[... But he's warm. Even to someone like her, whose body temperature ran higher than a human's, which makes it clear to her that... it was an unnatural sort of warmth. Shards. Being shard-bearers. Something. Something she is tempted not to let go of, even though it should be shameful to let a man touch her like this, in her stall of all places-]
Stay on my flank if you're going to be so audacious!
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[She evidently doesn't have a sense of humour, so he'll stop feigning classic Fire Emblem death dialogue and instead get comfortable against the warmth of her side. He can already feel a little of the chill subsiding, the feeling of being alone ebbing away.
Then, nonchalantly, like he's just remarking on the weather:]
You know, a bowstring can't stay taut forever. The same is true of people.
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Blushes.
To the point that she has to look away and hide her face, not wanting it to be seen even though the red flush can still be noted on the tips of her ears and the back of her neck. It's a perfect position to see her long bow laying against the wall of her stall... unstrung.
Perfect.]
- the least you could do is tell an entertaining tale if you are going to force your company on me.
[As if he hadn't said anything at all. As if it wasn't like... she didn't know. She just had to make it to her goal before she snapped, she was supposed to only be a single night away from her end, but then it became months in Horos, months in Kenos...]
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An entertaining tale? I have plenty. How about the time I crossed a desert looking for treasure, and got way more than I bargained for?
[It's such a wild story she might just dismiss it as invention... but then again, she's been around Horos and Kenos long enough that believability has surely been stretched for her by now.]
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But it was something to do. Something to fill the air to make it seem like there could be a reason she was letting this impudent human who was suddenly six years older (older than her, now), lean shamelessly against her side. Something that wasn’t the weakness of craving another’s warmth in the cold loss of an Oracle they didn’t understand.]
That one, then. A desert.
[Not that she knew what that truly was.]
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