[The fire acts as both warmth and a grounding point. He can look at the blaze, its flames flickering and reaching for the air above it, and feel centered, if only for a moment. His bones can rest from endless scouting, of trying to usher stubborn natives out of the war's path, of troublesome terrain and late nights. If he allows the orange-glow to envelop him enough, perhaps it will even push out the headache that blossoms hard behind his eyes, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. Maybe he can not think of the nightmares that plague him — again, they plague him, what a cruel lark — maybe he can sit and be alone without his head pounding thoughts into his mind’s eye.
He isn’t alone. The voice, coupled with its ironic wording, given his thoughts, is proof of that.
Dimitri turns to look over his shoulder, eye widening slightly in surprise. The fire casts strange shadows, but it illuminates Lightning to make her look dream-like against the darkness of the trees behind her. When he speaks, his voice sounds rugged, raw. Tired.]
Lightning. No, I think… it is you who should not be out here alone. This is Star’s territory.
[The fire backlights him, casting his face into shadows too deep to read his expression through, but there's no mistaking the exhaustion in his tone or his shoulders. They've all had better weeks, it would seem. To be so tired before the fighting's even begun...
Well. It explains a lot. Her eyes go wide at his words. Stars?! fal'Cie. Talk about getting turned around. She heaves a sigh that is equal parts aggravation and exhaustion, rubbing her forehead with one hand.]
There's Moon villages not far from here. Someone had to get them out.
[And then she just kept going. At least it was him she ran into and not someone who'd shoot first. She lowers her hand.]
You're pretty close to the border yourself. Evacuating?
[It isn’t surprising that she's so focused on aiding villagers that Lightning would pay no attention where she was. Frankly, it is hard to pay attention to the lines drawn on a map, dividing territories, when one is faced with wilderness and the prospect of helping the next town over, just once more. Admirable, as always.]
Yes. If we are discouraged from remaining idle during war preparations, I will put my efforts towards a cause I know is just.
[And perhaps he was losing track of just how close he was encroaching to Moon territory, too.]
...You must be tired. Please, sit with me. Spare me from my ruminations.
[There is no just cause in war. There is only survival, and saving as many lives as possible. Evacuation, supply running, defense. Fighting is simple, but fighting for the right reasons...not so much. This isn't her war. It's not her world, not her people, and yet. And yet.
With another quiet sigh, she crosses the short distance left between them to come and sit at his side. The warmth of the fire begins to chase away the chill she hadn't let herself feel; even l'Cie endurance has its limits, and she passed those a long time ago. It's going to be a long walk home tomorrow.
Tomorrow. She turns her head just enough to glance at him sidelong, able to see the bags beneath his eyes, the tired cast to his features, and she frowns with some small amount of concern.]
What's eating you? [A beat, then:] Besides the war.
[The dreams. More like nightmares. As if they didn't already have enough to deal with whatever magic is behind this has to try and guilt trip them, too. More magic and mumbo jumbo that gets her to snort quietly, even as the image of Serah and Hope crumbling to crystal dust remains burned into her mind's eye.]
Like we don't have enough problems already. [She shakes her head, then lifts a hand.] I have healing magic. If it would help...
[Well. She's here, he's here, and no one else is. It's hardly helping the enemy when it's helping a friend now isn't it?]
[No, it would not be troublesome, and he certainly would make no complaint… were it not for his ingrained stubbornness, that unwillingness to make things easy for himself if she’s already so tired.]
It will simply return. You needn’t waste your energy to ease my head when you should be shoring up all such energy for yourself, Lightning.
[He raises a hand, adjusting at the fur around his neck. The fire blazes.]
It will pass.
[Eventually. He drops his arm, redirecting the concern towards her.]
[Stubborn. She raises an eyebrow, neither convinced nor impressed, but he's not keeling over or bleeding out in the snow, so if he wants to suffer on his lonesome, well. Well, fine. She lowers her hand, clasping them together to blow onto her fingers. Felix's gift had been wonderfully timed and much appreciated, but even fur-lined gloves can't change that she's a beach girl.
It's all too cold for her out here!]
Fine. I've made longer runs than this before.
[Under better circumstances and not alone, but still. Worst part about it is the dreams; her eyes slip upwards to the fire, the dance of light and shadow at its core. Her voice grows quieter.]
Not the first time I've had Gods trying to manipulate me, either. None of this is new.
[If he can get away with it, he will. His stubbornness is thing well-known to those particularly close to him; Lightning gets to see it now.]
Manipulation— [He starts, his gaze moving toward her hands and their movements. It’s automatic, his following gesture: unhooking the cloak around his shoulders, ignoring the biting chill. He was born and raised in this kind of weather, and the cold does not bite at him as hard as it might her.]
You mean to say that… these are not true visions of what is to come?
[The fur bundles itself together in his grip as he offers his cloak to her. It might be overly large, but all the better to keep her warm.]
I don't think so. They're just smoke and mirrors to keep us in line.
[fal'Cie, Pantheon, same difference. Divinity is divinity, far removed from mortal understanding. The only difference is the name.
She turns her head at the rustle of cloth, taking in his offer. She can feel the lingering body heat in the thick fabric he holds out to her and the tiny beginnings of a smile pulls at the less visible side of her mouth. He's a good man.
Still, she shakes her head. Keep it, Dimitri. She won't have you freezing to death on her watch.]
Think about it. People from the same world having the same dream, with the only difference being who's talking to them? That's a trap. [It has to be a trap.] Both the Emperor and the Priestess have been saying the same things for months, and we know they've lied to us before. Why would this be real?
[It's just more emotional manipulation; give them the people they miss the most, those they love, their homes, then rip it away and blame the other side for it all. Maybe some parts of it were real, maybe the worlds will fade, but this...this turning people against people. No. No, that's a lie.]
[It’s a discussion he's had with a handful of others, and he has decided it's little more than duplicitous propaganda. Even if there was truth to their worlds dying in such a horrible and horrifying way, that did not necessarily make it a certainty. To say that it was, and to use it to throw their armies into war — it feels like an excuse. A wretched one, in which their emotions are manipulated in order to achieve a certain result.
It is good to know that Lightning shares similar thoughts. Though it does not comfort him. Comfort seems so faraway these past few days.]
I do not think it is. I believe it to be propaganda, but inordinately cruel. There are things I do not ever wish to see again, and so clearly; if this is a ruse, the Emperor perhaps does not realize how far they push my willingness to cooperate away.
[He had promised himself not to be driven forward by the voices of the dead any longer — even the potential death of so many close to him would not push him down a path of needless, bloody war.]
Fear-mongering to incite action, is what it is.
[His cloak still in his hands, he tries a second time to offer it to her.]
It is. And that means it'll blow up in their faces sooner or later. [Her eyes track to the fire, distant and lost in her memories.] I've seen this kind of thing before. Beings like the Emperor, the Priestess, they can't see things the way we do. We're just tools to them, and they'll do whatever it takes to keep us in line. Manipulation, force, doesn't matter. We're expendable in the end, so why bother caring about us and what we think?
[She's too tired to even consider that they're as lost and scared as the humans here, that somewhere in the ten thousand years of war they lost sight of their real purpose and can't see the truth any more. Pantheon, fal'Cie...it makes no difference to her. She sighs, frost clouding around her face, and turns her attention back at the subsequent rustle of cloth. Dimitri...]
Keep it. It'll take a lot more than cold to do me in. [Stubborn, meet stubborn. She's got her own still on, man!] Just because you're used to it doesn't mean you can't freeze. You need to stay warm, too.
[No, she's not budging on this one. He might have to throw it on top of her.]
[With his offer once more rejected, he does retract his arm this time. There’s no effort to put his cloak back on, however, only letting it fold into his lap, its edges pooling at his feet. Maybe he will throw it on top of her when she’s not expecting it.
For now, though—]
You’ve seen… gods exert unfair influence over mortals before?
[This would explain much regarding her stance towards them. Ever since the day they met, Lightning had been skeptical to trust either the Priestess or the Emperor. Did not buy into the stories given to them. Had been disappointed, but perhaps not surprised, when Strength failed to give them anything useful to work with. Past experiences must have given way to bias... Bias which is becoming well-founded, it seems, as time passes.]
[With a soft snort, she grips her elbows, leaning back just a touch. The emotion leaves her voice, turning it flat and chilled. She's had a long time to come to terms with this in the context of her own life, but seeing it repeated in such a way, with almost no one seeing the true risks in play...the frustration in her bearing is evident.]
Back in my world, they're called the fal'Cie. They're the ones who created Cocoon and provide for the humans who call it home. Everything we needed: food, water, the air, even light, was made by them to provide for us. That was their purpose.
[A beat, then:]
It was all a lie. They weren't providing for us out of the goodness of their hearts, but because they wanted to destroy the world and needed tools to do it. That's all we were to them: expendable tools to be used again and again until the job was done.
[If you were lucky enough to complete your Focus. Otherwise...]
Either that, or their powers would turn us into monsters for failing them. Still not sure which is worse.
[When she had told him about her world, Dimitri had not known how to parse it, not exactly. But he had not imagined it under the purview of an outside creator, not in the way Fódlan prays for the Goddess' influence and protection for mortals below. From what Lightning describes, that is a deception of the highest order — treating them like tools, or livestock, rather than people.
He doesn’t know what to say at first. That is a shocking revelation and even experiencing it only secondhand, Dimitri is appalled for her own sake.]
Neither is acceptable. What you describe is beyond morally reprehensible, and I am nearly at a loss for words. [And as a fellow mortal, he can easily place himself in her shoes. Back home, Edelgard denounces the influence of the Church across the continent and would be quick to call him a hypocrite for empathizing with Lightning. But what he is hearing is quite a different story, brought to the extreme. There are no shades of morally grey in what he’s being told now.]
You said they wanted to destroy the world. I assume you were not keen on letting that happen.
[Considering she is still here, he will assume that was not a successful endeavor on the fal’Cie’s part.]
No. [A soft puff of amusement.] I told you the six of us could make a mess, right? The fal'Cie branded us l'Cie, gave us magic and a mission to destroy the world. We told them where they could stick that idea.
[Right up Barthandelus' oversized metal mouth. Once this war is done and Fellden is safe, however long that takes, she'll go back and finish that fight. What happens after that is anyone's guess; how the soft Cocoon people will come to stand on their own, fend for themselves after so long in fal'Cie care...who knows if they even can. But they'll still have the choice, something they'll never have so long as the fal'Cie are pulling the strings.]
That's the one thing they never accounted for: people choosing what they wanted to do, l'Cie or not. We chose differently.
[She looks from the fire to Dimitri, her expression resolute. Her choice is obvious, even now.]
It's the same thing here. There's always a choice.
[Reference to her comrades again. To their strength of will, unwilling to be pawns to a “greater” beings whims. He does wonder what sort of mess they made, how far their rebellious actions might have echoed across their world and another.]
I agree. There is. Though many feel as if we must make those choices under the umbrella of the larger picture. I suppose that is the safe way of looking at it.
[It was the Kingdom’s way, too, to incite change from within. But he thinks it’s also doing each world an injustice, to line them all up and call their circumstances similar. They aren’t, not at all.]
Here, though— I do not think I have a subtle enough touch for that. Tell me, Lightning, what choice do you think you’ll make in these upcoming days?
I've already made my choice. I'll be out there, fighting.
[Resignation softens her edges, dissipating the righteous anger that had seeped into her tone just moments before. It's clear that though she's resolute in her decision, she's not looking forward to it. There's been enough blood spilled in this war, enough lives lost, and adding more to the total makes her heart sink. But when it's either fight or let the army roll over innocent lives, when it's fight or risk every world ending...the only choice is to stand. This is just her way to do that.]
The Temple's still full of people. They're going to need fighters holding the line for evacuation.
[And for all that he disapproves of this war, he knows that Lightning — and others like her — are needed to defend against the campaign’s worst. The violence that will act as an upheaval for so many here. A defense against the Court’s army, someone to protect lives rather than needlessly take them.]
I cannot bring myself to the frontlines. Not with all the doubts encircling my mind. I think that… [He exhales in a sigh, flattening down the fur of his cloak still in his lap.] …it will be better for me to act as a guard for the healers shadowing the upcoming battles. I think I will ask Mercedes, though I am sure she’s already made up her mind on the matter.
She probably has. Seems to me like she's the type to pick her path and stick to it. [A rueful little smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.] That kind of attitude gets people into all kinds of trouble.
[She'd know. Hell, she is one of those kinds of people. With a soft huff that could be a laugh, she leans in a bit towards the fire.]
Make sure you look out for one another, okay? Keep each other safe.
And you, Lightning. Do not fight alone if you can help it.
[This worry goes both ways, friend. Dimitri makes a move to stand to his feet, feigning something like a stretch across his muscles, rolling his shoulders. Goddess, he feels so tired.
But then he leans over just enough to drape his cloak around her shoulders.]
And do not be afraid to accept aid when it is needed.
[Whatever she was going to say in reply to that dies away in a soft noise. His cloak is heavy, warm, and she peers at him through the edge of the fur around the collar.
Do not be afraid. Is that what he thinks this is? He's...not entirely wrong. Not for a fear of showing weakness to others, or thinking she has to handle everything alone, but for fear of getting too close. When this war is over, when they all go back to their worlds--and it has to be a when, not an if--she's going to have to say goodbye to these people. These people who have become allies, friends, family.
One thing she's not good at is goodbyes.]
Can't make any promises, but... [A rueful little smile.] I'll try if you do.
[And who is he to decline? A promise to look after himself is one that he'll only make if another asks, but it makes his agreement nonetheless sincere. There are few less flattering things in this world -- or many in others, apparently -- than a hypocrite.]
In that case, how can I say no? I will keep watch of myself if only to guarantee that you do the same.
[They can try, at least. That's the most either of them can do with war breathing down their necks. Who knows what the days ahead will bring, and if they'll even have the chance to keep that promise. Still...she cocks her head.]
You learn how to negotiate like that in military school?
[Dimitri actually laughs faintly at that, his shoulders rising. He ignores the way it feels like it's echoing in his skull.]
I would not call that a very eloquent negotiation. [But maybe that's the joke.] But no, there is some expectation that royalty should always know how to compromise to a certain extent. Preparation for a lifetime of politicking with neighboring nations.
[He does not like playing that particular dance, but if he tries, he knows all the steps. It simply runs counterintuitive to his usual nature.
Not that it was... particularly hard to just plop his cloak around her shoulders, admittedly.]
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He isn’t alone. The voice, coupled with its ironic wording, given his thoughts, is proof of that.
Dimitri turns to look over his shoulder, eye widening slightly in surprise. The fire casts strange shadows, but it illuminates Lightning to make her look dream-like against the darkness of the trees behind her. When he speaks, his voice sounds rugged, raw. Tired.]
Lightning. No, I think… it is you who should not be out here alone. This is Star’s territory.
[Goddess, why is she so far out?]
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Well. It explains a lot. Her eyes go wide at his words. Stars?! fal'Cie. Talk about getting turned around. She heaves a sigh that is equal parts aggravation and exhaustion, rubbing her forehead with one hand.]
There's Moon villages not far from here. Someone had to get them out.
[And then she just kept going. At least it was him she ran into and not someone who'd shoot first. She lowers her hand.]
You're pretty close to the border yourself. Evacuating?
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Yes. If we are discouraged from remaining idle during war preparations, I will put my efforts towards a cause I know is just.
[And perhaps he was losing track of just how close he was encroaching to Moon territory, too.]
...You must be tired. Please, sit with me. Spare me from my ruminations.
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With another quiet sigh, she crosses the short distance left between them to come and sit at his side. The warmth of the fire begins to chase away the chill she hadn't let herself feel; even l'Cie endurance has its limits, and she passed those a long time ago. It's going to be a long walk home tomorrow.
Tomorrow. She turns her head just enough to glance at him sidelong, able to see the bags beneath his eyes, the tired cast to his features, and she frowns with some small amount of concern.]
What's eating you? [A beat, then:] Besides the war.
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Dimitri gives a notion that looks like a shrug, shoulders hunched forward, as if gravitating towards the flame.]
What ails everyone, I imagine. Those dreams, in which we see our loved ones die, and our homes lost to us.
[His head pulses, and he raises a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.]
I do not do well with them. I never have — it grants me headaches that are difficult to ignore.
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Like we don't have enough problems already. [She shakes her head, then lifts a hand.] I have healing magic. If it would help...
[Well. She's here, he's here, and no one else is. It's hardly helping the enemy when it's helping a friend now isn't it?]
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It will simply return. You needn’t waste your energy to ease my head when you should be shoring up all such energy for yourself, Lightning.
[He raises a hand, adjusting at the fur around his neck. The fire blazes.]
It will pass.
[Eventually. He drops his arm, redirecting the concern towards her.]
Are you well, despite it all?
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It's all too cold for her out here!]
Fine. I've made longer runs than this before.
[Under better circumstances and not alone, but still. Worst part about it is the dreams; her eyes slip upwards to the fire, the dance of light and shadow at its core. Her voice grows quieter.]
Not the first time I've had Gods trying to manipulate me, either. None of this is new.
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Manipulation— [He starts, his gaze moving toward her hands and their movements. It’s automatic, his following gesture: unhooking the cloak around his shoulders, ignoring the biting chill. He was born and raised in this kind of weather, and the cold does not bite at him as hard as it might her.]
You mean to say that… these are not true visions of what is to come?
[The fur bundles itself together in his grip as he offers his cloak to her. It might be overly large, but all the better to keep her warm.]
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[fal'Cie, Pantheon, same difference. Divinity is divinity, far removed from mortal understanding. The only difference is the name.
She turns her head at the rustle of cloth, taking in his offer. She can feel the lingering body heat in the thick fabric he holds out to her and the tiny beginnings of a smile pulls at the less visible side of her mouth. He's a good man.
Still, she shakes her head. Keep it, Dimitri. She won't have you freezing to death on her watch.]
Think about it. People from the same world having the same dream, with the only difference being who's talking to them? That's a trap. [It has to be a trap.] Both the Emperor and the Priestess have been saying the same things for months, and we know they've lied to us before. Why would this be real?
[It's just more emotional manipulation; give them the people they miss the most, those they love, their homes, then rip it away and blame the other side for it all. Maybe some parts of it were real, maybe the worlds will fade, but this...this turning people against people. No. No, that's a lie.]
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It is good to know that Lightning shares similar thoughts. Though it does not comfort him. Comfort seems so faraway these past few days.]
I do not think it is. I believe it to be propaganda, but inordinately cruel. There are things I do not ever wish to see again, and so clearly; if this is a ruse, the Emperor perhaps does not realize how far they push my willingness to cooperate away.
[He had promised himself not to be driven forward by the voices of the dead any longer — even the potential death of so many close to him would not push him down a path of needless, bloody war.]
Fear-mongering to incite action, is what it is.
[His cloak still in his hands, he tries a second time to offer it to her.]
...Lightning, please. You are cold.
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[She's too tired to even consider that they're as lost and scared as the humans here, that somewhere in the ten thousand years of war they lost sight of their real purpose and can't see the truth any more. Pantheon, fal'Cie...it makes no difference to her. She sighs, frost clouding around her face, and turns her attention back at the subsequent rustle of cloth. Dimitri...]
Keep it. It'll take a lot more than cold to do me in. [Stubborn, meet stubborn. She's got her own still on, man!] Just because you're used to it doesn't mean you can't freeze. You need to stay warm, too.
[No, she's not budging on this one. He might have to throw it on top of her.]
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For now, though—]
You’ve seen… gods exert unfair influence over mortals before?
[This would explain much regarding her stance towards them. Ever since the day they met, Lightning had been skeptical to trust either the Priestess or the Emperor. Did not buy into the stories given to them. Had been disappointed, but perhaps not surprised, when Strength failed to give them anything useful to work with. Past experiences must have given way to bias... Bias which is becoming well-founded, it seems, as time passes.]
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[With a soft snort, she grips her elbows, leaning back just a touch. The emotion leaves her voice, turning it flat and chilled. She's had a long time to come to terms with this in the context of her own life, but seeing it repeated in such a way, with almost no one seeing the true risks in play...the frustration in her bearing is evident.]
Back in my world, they're called the fal'Cie. They're the ones who created Cocoon and provide for the humans who call it home. Everything we needed: food, water, the air, even light, was made by them to provide for us. That was their purpose.
[A beat, then:]
It was all a lie. They weren't providing for us out of the goodness of their hearts, but because they wanted to destroy the world and needed tools to do it. That's all we were to them: expendable tools to be used again and again until the job was done.
[If you were lucky enough to complete your Focus. Otherwise...]
Either that, or their powers would turn us into monsters for failing them. Still not sure which is worse.
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He doesn’t know what to say at first. That is a shocking revelation and even experiencing it only secondhand, Dimitri is appalled for her own sake.]
Neither is acceptable. What you describe is beyond morally reprehensible, and I am nearly at a loss for words. [And as a fellow mortal, he can easily place himself in her shoes. Back home, Edelgard denounces the influence of the Church across the continent and would be quick to call him a hypocrite for empathizing with Lightning. But what he is hearing is quite a different story, brought to the extreme. There are no shades of morally grey in what he’s being told now.]
You said they wanted to destroy the world. I assume you were not keen on letting that happen.
[Considering she is still here, he will assume that was not a successful endeavor on the fal’Cie’s part.]
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[Right up Barthandelus' oversized metal mouth. Once this war is done and Fellden is safe, however long that takes, she'll go back and finish that fight. What happens after that is anyone's guess; how the soft Cocoon people will come to stand on their own, fend for themselves after so long in fal'Cie care...who knows if they even can. But they'll still have the choice, something they'll never have so long as the fal'Cie are pulling the strings.]
That's the one thing they never accounted for: people choosing what they wanted to do, l'Cie or not. We chose differently.
[She looks from the fire to Dimitri, her expression resolute. Her choice is obvious, even now.]
It's the same thing here. There's always a choice.
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I agree. There is. Though many feel as if we must make those choices under the umbrella of the larger picture. I suppose that is the safe way of looking at it.
[It was the Kingdom’s way, too, to incite change from within. But he thinks it’s also doing each world an injustice, to line them all up and call their circumstances similar. They aren’t, not at all.]
Here, though— I do not think I have a subtle enough touch for that. Tell me, Lightning, what choice do you think you’ll make in these upcoming days?
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[Resignation softens her edges, dissipating the righteous anger that had seeped into her tone just moments before. It's clear that though she's resolute in her decision, she's not looking forward to it. There's been enough blood spilled in this war, enough lives lost, and adding more to the total makes her heart sink. But when it's either fight or let the army roll over innocent lives, when it's fight or risk every world ending...the only choice is to stand. This is just her way to do that.]
The Temple's still full of people. They're going to need fighters holding the line for evacuation.
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[And for all that he disapproves of this war, he knows that Lightning — and others like her — are needed to defend against the campaign’s worst. The violence that will act as an upheaval for so many here. A defense against the Court’s army, someone to protect lives rather than needlessly take them.]
I cannot bring myself to the frontlines. Not with all the doubts encircling my mind. I think that… [He exhales in a sigh, flattening down the fur of his cloak still in his lap.] …it will be better for me to act as a guard for the healers shadowing the upcoming battles. I think I will ask Mercedes, though I am sure she’s already made up her mind on the matter.
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[She'd know. Hell, she is one of those kinds of people. With a soft huff that could be a laugh, she leans in a bit towards the fire.]
Make sure you look out for one another, okay? Keep each other safe.
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[This worry goes both ways, friend. Dimitri makes a move to stand to his feet, feigning something like a stretch across his muscles, rolling his shoulders. Goddess, he feels so tired.
But then he leans over just enough to drape his cloak around her shoulders.]
And do not be afraid to accept aid when it is needed.
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Do not be afraid. Is that what he thinks this is? He's...not entirely wrong. Not for a fear of showing weakness to others, or thinking she has to handle everything alone, but for fear of getting too close. When this war is over, when they all go back to their worlds--and it has to be a when, not an if--she's going to have to say goodbye to these people. These people who have become allies, friends, family.
One thing she's not good at is goodbyes.]
Can't make any promises, but... [A rueful little smile.] I'll try if you do.
[Deal?]
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In that case, how can I say no? I will keep watch of myself if only to guarantee that you do the same.
[Deal.]
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[They can try, at least. That's the most either of them can do with war breathing down their necks. Who knows what the days ahead will bring, and if they'll even have the chance to keep that promise. Still...she cocks her head.]
You learn how to negotiate like that in military school?
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I would not call that a very eloquent negotiation. [But maybe that's the joke.] But no, there is some expectation that royalty should always know how to compromise to a certain extent. Preparation for a lifetime of politicking with neighboring nations.
[He does not like playing that particular dance, but if he tries, he knows all the steps. It simply runs counterintuitive to his usual nature.
Not that it was... particularly hard to just plop his cloak around her shoulders, admittedly.]
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