garregmach | (no subject)

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[ It's been a few days since the first arrivals trickled in to this iteration of the monastery, and there's been some improvement to the area, at least.

Which is fortunate, really, because the clouds have finally decided to open up and let out a torrential downpour.

The grass out in the courtyard almost immediately becomes saturated with water, squishing beneath people's feet as they step through it. Drainage in the monastery is a real problem in some parts, particularly near the marketplace area. Slowly, as time passes, pools begin to form, though some of the remaining debris serves as a decent buffer between the water and whatever crates merchants may have left behind. It may be a good idea to salvage some of that, though it's not likely to be ruined thanks to said debris. In general, it's likely a rude awakening for any new arrivals.

Of course, some would say that rainy days are the best when it comes to fishing; some would even say they're right, given how the fish seem to be out in droves at the lake. If one didn't mind potentially getting soaked, they could bring in a real haul during this rainstorm. The dining hall is not nearly as well stocked as it had been in its heyday, so this could potentially be beneficial for the community.

For some, it's likely best to stay inside and find shelter from the rain. Thankfully, most of the monastery roofing seems to be intact, save for a few sizeable holes in the cathedral. Still, that doesn't mean there isn't a leak here and there, so watch your step, particularly in the dining hall and the second floor of the dormitories as well. It might not be a bad idea to put a few buckets out to catch all that water . . . ]

[[ MORE HOUSEKEEPING, hey what's up guys:

please PM this journal if there are more setting changes you'd like to be noted! i.e. if your character did some sprucing up in the greenhouse, just let me know and I will update the setting page accordingly.
as noted on the "mod" plurk, I'll try putting up open posts roughly once a week going forward. it'll depend on how things are going, no big. ]]

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[Dimitri looks inordinately pleased by the praise. This is fishing and not hunting, true, but he was always thrilled whenever Glenn or his father would praise him like this... though the silly title makes him think more of Glenn than anything else. He nods, feeling oddly shy.]

Yes, but I think that this should do it.

[And indeed, when he puts that last fish in the bucket, it's plenty full. He steps over toward Claude, peeking at the top of his head to part his hair a bit and let that soap rinse out cleanly.

...it's a little forward, even if they are friendly enough. That's what he gets for thinking of Glenn.]

Anyway, I believe I inadvertently interrupted you. What were you saying?

[ That's— unexpected. That, the earnest pleasure on Dimitri's face. There's no mistaking the cause. Silly as it had been, his clapping and accolade had resonated, such that... well, Claude's unsure of how he would characterize that reaction. It's so at odds with the rest of him that he just can't get any of the best words to fit.

He might not be sure of that, but he's sure of one thing: whatever Dimitri may be feeling, it's cute. The whole of it, right down to if not in large part from the dissonance. More life in Claude's smile for it, even flickering into his eyes above.

His intention, then: to take stock of the bucket, to ask what Dimitri would next do.

His intention, foiled, when Dimitri moves from bucket to him. Too sudden and too surprising, with his almost boyish air disarming, so Claude hasn't tensed when Dimitri brushes at his hair. Soft touch. Claude blinks.

More than a little forward to someone like Claude, who might struggle to count on one hand the times when he'd been the recipient of anything comparable in his childhood. As far as he can remember, anyway. His parents expressed their affection in the way that would best help him survive and he hadn't had any playmates. None of which bothers him, but it has left him unprepared, especially when it comes from a guy like Dimitri. Dimitri whom, before their imprisonment here, he hadn't seen for five years. (Put aside the irony, wherein he receives his just desserts for his over-familiarity in every other way with those around him.) Toss in the suspiciously fuzzy feeling born of Dimitri's happiness, and what you get...

Funny, that his face should feel so hot with the rain trickling so cool. Claude steps back, but he's careful in it, waiting until Dimitri lowers his hand, until it would not seem an awkward, defensive thing. ]

...Thanks.

[ More quiet than he'd like, and clearing gruff at the start, his eyes firmly averted, fixing on the steps to the dining hall. Probably, he should readily bow his head, breezily ask if they'd gotten it all with their madness combined. A good show of being at ease. He just needs another second.

Or, yeah, a change in topic will do. As will lifting the umbrella, swinging it overhead. The accumulated water dumps neatly over his head, a last rinse, and he can hide more of his face beneath it. ]

Er, did you? [ Glancing back. ] Oh. Teach. Yeah, live or die. Fail or succeed. I can't say I like the idea of our fates being tied to the whims of a single, uncanny person. But I don't have to like it for it to be true.

[Is Claude... blushing? Dimitri can't imagine what might have caused that, not with the way Claude so effectively projects an air of mischief and casual conviviality. But now that he's thinking of it, isn't Sylvain the same way? He never seems to know what to do when presented with genuine affection, friendly or otherwise. How curious. It almost makes Dimitri want to tease him, just a little.

He won't, of course. That would be ungentlemanly, and that still matters to him even as he stands here after literally showering in the rain and catching fish with a pointed stick.

The sudden dumping of water over his head startles a small laugh from Dimitri.]

Oh! Is that what you were doing there? Very clever. ...still, if you have the same suspicions about the professor, then I suppose it is likely that is the case...

[It's eerie to think about, and Dimitri is one of the ones who was "chosen" by the professor. Shaking his head, he lifts his bucket.]

I shall drop this off in the dining hall. There's a fire in the knight's hall, I suggest you go and warm up. I will be heading that way myself shortly.

[ How close Claude came to being teased by Dimitri he'll never know. Saved as much by the king's manners as by the small, cool shock of the water pouring over his head.

A few things help him regain his composure swiftly and completely: 1) he's Claude von Riegan; 2) water (see: umbrella above); and 3) Dimitri is easily impressed. Claude tips back the umbrella, grinning up at Dimitri. The pouring from within the umbrella plastered much of his hair across his forehead, a long strand over one eye, so he reaches with his free hand to push it back. ]

My fragile ego appreciates it, but you might be giving me too much credit.

[ It hadn't been all that clever, his use of the umbrella. And that they share those suspicions doesn't really have an impact on their likelihood.

Still. Flippant though he is, he might just mean it. That he appreciates it. Appreciates this. ]

Sounds like a plan. If I don't see you there, I'll assume they roped you into fish prep.

[ Whether for cooking tonight or for storage. Claude starts down the pier, intending to make good use of that fire. ]

[Dimitri gives him a cordial nod, moving to haul that bucket on up to the dining hall. And though he does not get roped into fish prep, he does stay long enough to sharpen the knives so it'll be easier for whoever does decide to do so.

Which will give Claude a little while alone in that hall. It's nice and tidy now — it was one of Dimitri's preferred haunts during their academy days, and since the building was relatively undamaged and the hearth only needed to be cleared, he's gone ahead and put in the effort to make it a livable space. They need at least one good, solid hearth in a building that's large enough for everyone currently trapped here, just in case. Living in Faerghus has undoubtedly influenced his priorities...

Dimitri's cloak and armor are neatly tucked in a corner, and if Claude gets nosy, he might find a certain dagger inside the armor. Otherwise, Dimitri hasn't left anything of interest lying around.

Still, he won't be long. Before Claude's clothes will have had a chance to dry out, he'll be stepping into the knight's hall as well, stripping off his shirt at the threshold to wring it out as best he can. He isn't keen on exposing all his scars, but Claude will probably have the grace not to ask... probably.]

If I recall correctly, you do not much like the cold, do you? I do not mind it, so feel free to make use of my cloak until your clothing has dried if you like, [he says as he approaches, laying out his shirt.]

[ It isn't the first time that Claude's appreciated the quick work done for the Knight's Hall. Though he hadn't much frequented it when they were students, and doesn't now spend time within its walls, he's taken note when making rounds to survey the status of repairs.

Even so, he better appreciates it now. There's no overstating the impact of a clean room lit warm by a steady fire. The contrast against the gray day and the cool rain enhances the effect, such that that disturbingly fuzzy feeling resumes, curling in his chest. Alone with it, he can better subdue it.

Claude busies himself with the practical: removing his boots, his gloves. Laid out before the fire. Having taken stock of the hall when first entering, Claude had noticed cloak and armor. Though, yes, he is nosy, he doesn't generally go through other people's things without a set purpose in mind, without a reason. His purpose at the moment? Getting dry.

Which should, in the vein of the practical, involve removing his shirt. He doesn't. He considers it, sure enough, especially as the minutes flow into the quarter hour and Dimitri hasn't arrived. But even if Dimitri doesn't show, anyone else might come to take shelter. Odd as it might look that he chooses to stay in the sopping shirt, it isn't as though Claude's a stranger to those at Garreg Mach thinking him odd, and better odd than what a look at his abdomen might suggest.

Then Dimitri does show, and it's something of a moot point. Claude's crouched in front of the fire, clothed but for gloves and boots, and glances to the door just as Dimitri peels off his shirt. Quite a nasty array and a touch surprising, given his diminished experience with the king in his own time. If Teach hadn't saved Dimitri, Claude would wonder if he wasn't in fact dead.

But he doesn't stare and he doesn't ask. Instead, he flicks a grin toward the door then focuses it on the fire, below the careful veil of his gaze. ]

You recall correctly, and I'm honored you remembered. Only, it's plenty warm here. Besides, you might not mind it, but you were out there soaking longer than I was. Take care of yourself first.

[ Challenging though Dimitri might find that. ]

I fear I would roast if I were to wear that with the fire this high.

[And though he does have a tendency to fuss over others instead of taking care of himself, that much is very true. Even if no one else could potentially be using that cloak right now, Dimitri still wouldn't want to. He gives Claude's wet clothing another glance, but opts to leave it at that. He will dry off eventually as long as the fire stays high.

Dimitri will just grab another log and toss it on before squatting in a similar position with his back to the fire, hoping it will dry his disastrous hair and the seat of his pants quickly so he can sit in a proper chair.]

You might just [ Agreed and amused. ] and we're not that badly off.

[ Thanks for all the fish? A bad joke, perhaps (and despite some particularly nasty stories in the Alliance, no, the Almyrans have never been cannibals). ]

I do recall, myself— you didn't do well with heat.

[ Not for the first time, though for the first time in what must be years, it strikes Claude how different they are— intrinsically. Hot and cold, trust and distrust, open and closed. He could wax a touch more poetic about it, sink into the thought, but.

Claude looks over his shoulder, and rather than saying any of that, winks. ]

Are you honored, your Highness?

[ Teasing. As if it was remarkable that Claude would remember a classmate's weakness. ]

[That Dimitri has never taken special note of those differences himself says a lot about the type of person he is — one with a privileged upbringing and the continued privilege of obviously belonging somewhere, yes, but even without those factors, he's the type that would instinctively look for commonalities without noticing the differences.

There are many reasons people think of him as naive even now, and that is one of them.]

That you remembered? I would be surprised if you forgot. I am afraid the bar for "honor" is a little higher when you are so widely known for being clever.

[ For all that his dreams hinged on believing, or wanting to believe, in certain core commonalities between all people— his mind nonetheless identifies and defaults to the differences.

And thus far, the only commonality Claude has identified in all people is that they hate the ubiquitous other. Just the same.

"Thus far"— as if there would be anything else, anything further. Rather, there would be, but for the Claude(s) chosen by Teach. Dangerous and futile to do anything but take comfort in that, feel anything but relieved some iteration of him made it. ]

I hope the bar isn't so low that a good memory constitutes cleverness.

[ A laugh in his voice, if not so breathed. Claude shakes his head then cocks it sidelong, eyes back on the fire. ]

Hm, but that's too bad. I'll have to think of something better with which to impress you.

I have been told that I am easily impressed, so you will not have to work too hard. Even right now — that you do not look like a drowned rat after being out in the rain is impressive in its own way.

[It helps that Claude's hair is a little wavy, and that he styles it consistently enough for the follicles to be accustomed to pushing in one direction or another. Dimitri's, on the other hand... his hair is literally just the overgrown version of the stiff, short cut he wore five years ago. It's not meant to go wild like this, it should be clean, sharp lines!

He doesn't care enough anymore to bother, though. Maybe he'll clean it up after the war, no use in bothering with it now. Dimitri lifts one wet, limp strand of hair, shrugging to himself.]

[ True, Dimitri had proved easily impressed in the rain. But Claude suspects that if he were to try to impress him, if only as an amusing way to pass the time, he might have a surprisingly hard time.

Or not. He can't really be impressed by that— but as Claude looks back to him, mouth crooked, ready to quip as to his own resilient good looks, he understands.

There's no denying that Dimitri's hair is a mess and the rain hasn't done him any favors. Not that anyone else, seeing him now, would pay much attention to his hair. Not when he's got his shirt off, and his scars would play a shrinking part in that.

Still— ]

They're right. You are easily impressed.

[ Shaking his head again, hands pressed to thighs as he pushes himself to a stand. Turning to Dimitri, he looks with a more discerning eye at that straggly mop. ]

Though you make a fetching drowned rat... doesn't it bother you?

[ To start, he's got one eye. His hair must get in it all the time. ]

[A fetching drowned rat? Dimitri laughs outright at that, though it's brief. His gaze follows Claude as he stands, but Dimitri remains where he is, not wanting to relinquish the drying power of the fire just yet.]

I suppose it is somewhat troublesome, but at this point, I might as well wait for the war to come to a conclusion before bothering with it. I am sure they'll want to paint a portrait for my coronation or any other number of embarrassing things, and I would rather not make a hasty choice now that I'll regret for the next fifty years every time I walk past the wretched thing.

[And he will walk by it frequently, if only to sear the memory of his father's face into his mind.]

[ The longer Dimitri goes on, the more pained Claude looks. It isn't as though he doesn't understand the logic. He even appreciates that it's more nuanced than the obvious and simple answer: there had been a war on, how could anyone, nevermind a leader, be so vain as to worry about his hair?

No, it's only this: the logic is incomplete. ]

Dimitri... putting aside the ample time you have here, [ such that any choice now would hardly be hasty ] you do realize that you have other options than scissors? Unless there's a risk of surreptitious painting, you could change your hair by the day, even by the hour, without having cause to regret.

[ Claude scans the room, forehead creased with doubt. ]

I don't suppose you've got a comb or brush stashed away.

[There are other reasons he just leaves his hair as it is, of course, but Dimitri himself isn't even fully aware of them. It's easiest to just do nothing, so that is what he does.]

Are you suggesting I put my hair up? That sounds time-consuming... oh — I do have a comb though, actually. It wasn't worth stealing, so I suppose the bandits that ransacked this place simply left it behind.

[Dimitri rises, padding over to where his cloak and armor are kept. The comb he pulls out is simple, unremarkable. Thankfully, it is also clean. He hands it over, figuring Claude will want to use it himself.]

Only at first.

[ Claude notes, as amused as he is bewildered. That Dimitri would think it time-consuming to put up his hair speaks to inexperience, except that Claude can imagine it would be in its current state.

He's about to find out. While he would like to use the comb himself, he's focused on his self-assigned mission. Accepting it, he turns it over in his hand, lifts it in front of his face, making a show of the study. After half a minute of that, he gives a firm nod of satisfaction.

Claude gestures to Dimitri, gestures down. ]

Right, come on. You just had to go and get even taller.

[ Whether Dimitri sits, though his pants don't look full dry just yet, or crouches, though it would be less comfortable— Claude will have an easier time of it if he lowers himself that much.

Edited (the royal we) 2019-10-28 06:19 (UTC)

[For a few seconds, Dimitri is decidedly befuddled. His height seems irrelevant, and he's not entirely sure why Claude would be asking him to sit —

Oh. Is he going to put it up for him? That sounds somewhat embarrassing. Not enough to put him off the idea entirely, but enough for him to look slightly startled once it clicks. He clears his throat, patting the back of his pants before deeming them dry enough to sit in one of the nearby chairs for a short period. Dimitri obediently sits down, though naturally, not without at least a small protest:]

Truly, my hair does not bother me that much. I do not mind leaving it as it is.

[...still, he's curious, so he won't make a fuss beyond that.]

[ Despite palpable surprise, Dimitri seems to be going along with it. And despite the assured way in which Claude had half-instructed him, he more expected refusal. He doesn't know the finer details of life as a royal or noble in Faerghus, to what extent Dimitri had ever had his hair styled by another person. Suffice to say, by the looks of things, even if it had been done before it's been a long, long while.

Which doesn't speak for anything, really, except his assumed comfort level.

For his own part, it isn't as though Claude goes around offering himself in such a capacity. In fact, he's not sure he's ever touched another person's hair at any length -- well, outside of certain private moments, and he'd once braided Hilda's hair.

So it's something of an anomaly for him, as well. Dimitri just seems so... hapless? It isn't the right word, not exactly. Rather than examining whatever feeling it really is, Claude leaves it at paying forward the use of his soap. ]

Hey, if you'd rather leave it, we'll leave it.

[ But there doesn't seem to be further protest coming. Claude uses his fingers first, getting a sense of how bad the tangles are. ]

This might hurt.

[ Maybe a silly thing to say to a man as scarred as him. But sometimes the little things, like yanked tangles and stubbed toes, can sting plenty bad. He'll work the comb through carefully, as gentle as possible. ]

Edited (thinks) 2019-11-04 01:04 (UTC)

[Really, it was just a token attempt to let Claude off the hook. Dimitri would hate for him to feel obligated if he had been joking about it. For whatever reason, though, it seems he was not. Dimitri shivers slightly at the sensation of having someone run their fingers through his hair, unbothered by having it be tugged at a little.]

I will manage. Nothing could hurt the way it did when the professor finally sat me down and cleaned me up.

[They had to cut a few mats right out of his hair, but for the most part they just jerked the comb through the disaster that had taken up residence on his head. Currently, he only has a few minor knots. He combed it out this morning, then he scrubbed at his scalp vigorously enough to tangle it in a couple of places.]

[ No, this isn't bad at all. Nothing more than what a good wash would produce, and even without conditioner. At the shiver, he tamps down on a mischievous bent toward taking his time with his fingers. Bad idea for several reasons. Once he's satisfied, he starts with the comb. ]

"Finally," huh? You know, Dimitri, I'm getting a pretty alarming picture of what you'd been like in your time.

[ A laugh rippling through his voice. The knots give soon enough. Claude tucks the comb into a pocket -- not to take, unless he forgets it, but to free both hands. ]

It would take all of five seconds to pull it back...

[ Which he begins to do, until he realizes he hasn't got a hair tie. His own hair being too short to warrant it. Claude glances across the room, debating. There's one option, but it's a little... well, Dimitri's back is to him and it'll be quick. Stepping back, he tugs up his shirt, bowing his head to use his teeth to help tear a strip along the hem. Just needing that first tear, the scarring exposed for only a few seconds, and then he's got a makeshift tie. ]

[Chances are, Dimitri would enjoy it if he took his time, though he would be terribly embarrassed. It probably is for the best that he quashes that urge.]

Well, I was not exactly civilized when they found me...

[Dimitri trails off at the ripping sound, confused. After a moment he realizes what's happening, though, and he abruptly turns around, waving his hands, clearly dismayed.]

Please, there is no need for you to tear up your clothing!

[ Much as Dimitri presents distinctly more unkempt than he had at the academy, it is difficult for Claude to imagine him uncivilized. Sure enough, in that last month at the monastery the then prince had begin to sound a touch unhinged, but reports of the king in Claude's time bore little resemblance to the hints dropped by Hilda, by Dimitri himself.

He'd tease him further, more perhaps than he should given his ignorance of the circumstances, but that he'd begun tearing his shirt and Dimitri turned, agitated.

Shirt only just pulled down, only just, a flash of skin disappearing in the peripheral. Claude blinks, then grins around the strip of cloth hanging between his teeth. ]

Too late?

[ Taking it from his mouth, winding it partially around his fingers. ]

I have plenty of shirt left. [ Leonie would be proud. ] Unless his Royalness can't bear to accept my scraps?

[ Assuming that isn't the case, he puts his hand to the side of Dimitri's head and firmly steers him back around. Fingers threading back into his hair. He could simply pull it, but while he has him... Claude begins to separate his hair into thirds. ]

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