[Goodness, this name was a mouthful... yet another spoiled nobleman, as if he doesn't have his hands full already. Still, he's not about to refuse any able-bodied assistance. So he puts on polite airs and his most charming smile, because first impressions were important. Even for the hired help.]
Greetings, Sylvain Jose Gautier. Brigadier General McGillis Fareed, at your service.
[Dipping his head, briefly.]
I am responding to your application. Could you spare a moment?
[ brigadier general mcgillis fareed is also a mouthful, and it's says a bit, he thinks, to pull rank in a place like this. but nobles are nobles, no matter if it's faerghus or a crazy sex island, so, you know. as you do— ]
Please, Sylvain is fine. I'll spare us both the trouble. [ first impressions are important, and sylvain's smile is easy and open. ] Good day to you, General Fareed. Thank you for taking the time to contact me.
[ about a stablehand application. like, sylvain has never applied for work in his life, but there's a first for everything. it's also kind of nice to not have an automatic pass based on his family name or crest, so that's a thing. anyway, he'd die for the chocobos and hopefully that will come across. ]
[ time for real horse girl hours that mcgillis definitely didn't ask for. ]
This is the first I've ever seen these birds, but they're not unlike the horses and pegasi I'm familiar with back home. Stable duty and riding was part of our education at the Officer's Academy, regardless of our social standing and whether or not we'd go on to serve as knights after graduation, so you don't have to worry about me being shy about getting my hands dirty.
Other than that, if there's anything you'd like me to elaborate on, I'd be happy to.
Or, well. It isn't true avoidance, given that they live together; like, Felix continues acknowledging that Sylvain exists, grunting in response to every good morning, every good evening, every training late again? They see one another—but for a good, oh, three or so days, the time they spend together is noticeably, purposely limited. Felix is quick to leave in the mornings; Felix is slow to return in the evenings, and it's...
...It isn't because he's a coward, he tells himself. It isn't, because he isn't. He hasn't been genuinely afraid of anything in years—which is a bald-faced lie, really. There are plenty of things that Felix Hugo Fraldarius has been—is—afraid of, though he's loath to admit them, and one of them is most certainly the very real fear that is losing another person important to him. Losing Dimitri again, for the, what, third and final time? Losing Ingrid, wherever she currently is.
Losing Sylvain.
It's unique, their friendship. Undeniably important. No one reads Felix quite like Sylvain; no one tolerates Felix quite like Sylvain, and maybe that's because Sylvain was always the first to wipe Felix's tears when they were small, the last to leave Felix's side. Sylvain is used to Felix. Knows him, accepts him, and Felix has always taken that for granted.
Taken Sylvain for granted, honestly, which is why it's strange to be suddenly confronted with the idea that something between them has... shifted. For the first time in years, things are not as they were; there is a new, nebulous state of things, and you know, maybe it's entirely in Felix's mind. Maybe Sylvain thought nothing of kissing Felix, of lifting him onto the counter and slotting fingers between Felix's ribs as though they belonged there, but—ah. Hmm. It's a memory Felix can't shove from his mind, and it doesn't matter where they are, or what they were brought here to do, or that his stupid card now has a stupid square checked off it; what matters is that Sylvain is Felix's best friend, and that Felix was willing to risk all that best friendship entails the moment Sylvain's lips pressed against his.
So it's... guilt, plaguing Felix? Something akin to it, anyway, and as this feeling worsens each day he spends avoiding Sylvain, Felix knows that the current state of affairs isn't tenable. They're stuck in this world, after all—and some not-so-small part of Felix misses Sylvain, misses the simple act of Sylvain slinging an arm about his shoulders as he recites some utterly ridiculous tale. Silly, how the smallest things mean so very much in the end...
But Felix shoved Sylvain away; it's Felix's responsibility to set things right, and thus Felix finds himself returning to their shared apartment earlier than he has in days. There's still light low in the sky, streaming through the dusty windows of their living room—and illuminating Sylvain as he lies stretched out on the couch. What he's doing, Felix does not know... but Felix makes his way over to him, anyway. Leans over the back the couch to both shoot him a (weak) scowl and drop a small parcel onto his chest.]
Here, [he says, shortly, as he folds his forearms over the tops of the cushions, obviously not planning to go anywhere until Sylvain actually opens his gift—but he sure as shit isn't making eye contact.] It's—just open it.
[Yeah! :/ Yeah. Open this pouch and admire the small tin of Bergamot Tea™, because of course Felix knows Sylvain's preferred blend.]
he expected felix to leave just as he wandered out of the bathroom to try and figure out what to do about breakfast and felix, the latter saving him the trouble by walking out the door with hardly a glance. and sylvain had stood in the empty doorway and thought, so this is how it's going to be.
it... stings. it hurts and little and he won't lie to himself about that, because it does. and it really shouldn't, because he was the one who made the conscious decision to keep everything buried for the past five years; he was the one who never said a word, never came clean, because sometimes it's easier to just accept that he doesn't deserve more than he already has. there's no time for feelings and honesty and love during the war, not when they were fighting each day just to survive and then do it all over again by next sunrise. he kept putting it off, days turning into weeks, turning into months, and suddenly it's five years later and dimitri is standing over edelgard's body in enbarr and sylvain finally remembers how to breathe again. suddenly, he finds himself guiding mercedes to every fall battalion, identifying wounded soldiers from dead ones, and there are numerous paths and doorways stretched in front of him, infinite choices and possibilities: gautier, sreng, felix among them. they stare back at him and he'd crumbled a little beneath the weight of it all.
and maybe this was what he was going for without even realizing it, why kissing felix the night before was more like a sudden burst of clarity than anything particularly life changing. there was no great spark of realization, no altered perspective—it felt like the slow track of a sunbeam across his bed, the quiet crack of a geode; the bright grin splitting felix's face nearly in two as he decoded the cipher sylvain had given him, the first of many to follow. this is how i'll talk to you, and no one else. it'd felt frighteningly normal, like it was simply the natural progression of things: sylvain spent their childhood wiping felix's tears, slowing down for him to catch up while the others chased after glenn; it should stand to reason he would wind up kissing felix on their kitchen counter one night somewhere down the line. and maybe felix regrets it, or maybe he doesn't—sylvain had no trouble reading felix when they were little, but after glenn, he'd locked up tighter than a steel trap and he'd spent the better part of his time during their academy days decoding that once more.
now, it's sort of like that, in some ways. it's so easy to give into that initial downswing, that felix regrets it, that he'd rather not want anything to do with him afterwards. but sylvain forces himself to think, to look over the little details: felix still sharing his space with him, still acknowledging his presence, still responding. and though the sting still lingers, sylvain gives him space, lets felix do what he needs to process and waits for him to seek him out when he's ready. like handling a spooked horse, so too does felix require a patient hand, and sylvain has been patient for his whole life, what's a little more on top of it?
and so this is what felix comes back to: sylvain lounging on the couch and scrolling through the network, reading through older posts and vaguely aware that felix has returned. he expects him to go immediately to the shower, but the sudden weight on his chest startles him a little enough to look down and then up at him. he's staying? and... lingering, and there's surprise all over sylvains face but he does as he's told, sitting up and undoing the ties to the parcel— ]
Felix, is this...
[ look, he knows bergamot tea, he loves that shit and he'd recognize the tin and the smell that wafts up when he opens it hits him full force. it smells like lazy days at the monastery, long afternoons where he'd skip faith class and spend it napping beneath a tree instead or hassling felix down at the training grounds. it smells like home, and sylvain knows about the augur stuff, knows that they can request things and the fact that felix asked for his favorite blend of tea is... well. ]
You got this for me? [ it's stupid, he knows, he's just really surprised, okay. and he's also very touched, and his face probably looks a little bit constipated from how touched he is, before it melts into something happier, more fond as he takes another whiff of those leaves. ] Thanks, Fe.
[ and then, because he needs to like, throw in a jab since this is what they do: ]
You didn't have to spoil me like this. You could've just apologized, you know.
[Kissing Sylvain was far, far easier than it had any right to be—and giving Sylvain this stupid gift is far, far more nerve-racking than it has any right to be. It's only a tin of tea! Except that it isn't, at its core, because Felix watches Sylvain undo the ties and Felix knows this is... a sign of things to come? A weather vane, of sorts, telling him which way the wind is blowing, letting him know if a storm is brewing. He's never kissed a friend before, let alone a friend as important as Sylvain; he isn't entirely sure what it means for them in the long run.
And he tells himself he isn't entirely sure what he wants it to mean? Told himself this, actually, as he walked back to their apartment after picking up this gift, but here is the truth: Felix knows what he wants. Felix watches Sylvain's face twist, then smooth, hears Sylvain ask that ridiculous question, and Felix feels the sudden, inexplicable urge to lean over the back of the couch and take Sylvain's dumb face in his hands. Of course it's for you. You're loud and annoying and I missed you.
But he doesn't, because giving in to such impulses was what led them to this very point. It's better, Felix thinks, to hunker down atop the tops of these cushions, soaking in the warmth of Sylvain's pleased expression. Better to stay silent.
Until, you know. Sylvain calls him the fuck out. There's no need for that? No need to refer to this as an apology, even if very much is, and it's the warmth creeping into his cheeks that forces Felix to reexamine whether staying silent is really the right move. It's the mortifying ordeal of being known? And yes, sure, he's been known, where Sylvain concerned, but that doesn't prevent him from feeling incredibly Seen—and that, in turn, doesn't prevent him from tilting over the back of the couch, glaring at Sylvain as he makes a swipe for that tin.]
Give it back.
[Apology-that-is-totally-not-an-apology... revoked! Damn! Even if this does feel, ah, so natural as to put him somewhat at ease.]
[ sylvain had always made it a point to leave his friends alone. he'd never gotten entangled with any of them not only because they knew him well enough already, but they didn't deserve to deal with... everything he was dealing with back then. things he's still dealing with now, really, but with the end of the war means that now he can actually do something about it, whenever they find their way back home. and so, no, he doesn't really know what this means either, but he knows what he wants—he wants felix to come closer, he wants felix to stay, because the past few days have been nothing short of awful with how quiet it's been between them. he'd rather have felix yelling at him than not talking to him at all.
but ah, there it is. sylvain watches the flush spread over felix's cheeks, the way he's slouched over the top of the couch cushions and looking so huffy, just like he did when they were kids. and just like when they were kids, he lunges forward to make a grab for the tin and sylvain simply holds it out of reach, his other hand coming up to hold felix by the shoulder to steady him. ]
Nuh-uh. [ he's laughing a little, still recovering from the surprise and how thoughtful felix was? like, sylvain knows felix is capable of giving people things, but it's just so rare. gone were the days when felix would just show up to meet him at the fraldarius castle gates with little trinkets he found just because, but this doesn't make it any less sweet compared to then. ] You gave this to me, so it's mine now.
[ there's a lot to take away from these texts?? the first being nemesis—that's a name he hasn't heard in a while. which would be concerning if the rest of it wasn't so out of left field, but you know, ]
okay but do you think the professor is the kind of person who would eat your fish-family?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
video;
Greetings, Sylvain Jose Gautier. Brigadier General McGillis Fareed, at your service.
[Dipping his head, briefly.]
I am responding to your application. Could you spare a moment?
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Please, Sylvain is fine. I'll spare us both the trouble. [ first impressions are important, and sylvain's smile is easy and open. ] Good day to you, General Fareed. Thank you for taking the time to contact me.
[ about a stablehand application. like, sylvain has never applied for work in his life, but there's a first for everything. it's also kind of nice to not have an automatic pass based on his family name or crest, so that's a thing. anyway, he'd die for the chocobos and hopefully that will come across. ]
How can I help you?
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[And what a handsome face. McGillis eases back, just a bit, softened by that show of manners.]
I only had a few questions. Namely your interest in our birds, and your personal qualifications.
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[ time for real horse girl hours that mcgillis definitely didn't ask for. ]
This is the first I've ever seen these birds, but they're not unlike the horses and pegasi I'm familiar with back home. Stable duty and riding was part of our education at the Officer's Academy, regardless of our social standing and whether or not we'd go on to serve as knights after graduation, so you don't have to worry about me being shy about getting my hands dirty.
Other than that, if there's anything you'd like me to elaborate on, I'd be happy to.
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it's MY turn to close MY eyes
Or, well. It isn't true avoidance, given that they live together; like, Felix continues acknowledging that Sylvain exists, grunting in response to every good morning, every good evening, every training late again? They see one another—but for a good, oh, three or so days, the time they spend together is noticeably, purposely limited. Felix is quick to leave in the mornings; Felix is slow to return in the evenings, and it's...
...It isn't because he's a coward, he tells himself. It isn't, because he isn't. He hasn't been genuinely afraid of anything in years—which is a bald-faced lie, really. There are plenty of things that Felix Hugo Fraldarius has been—is—afraid of, though he's loath to admit them, and one of them is most certainly the very real fear that is losing another person important to him. Losing Dimitri again, for the, what, third and final time? Losing Ingrid, wherever she currently is.
Losing Sylvain.
It's unique, their friendship. Undeniably important. No one reads Felix quite like Sylvain; no one tolerates Felix quite like Sylvain, and maybe that's because Sylvain was always the first to wipe Felix's tears when they were small, the last to leave Felix's side. Sylvain is used to Felix. Knows him, accepts him, and Felix has always taken that for granted.
Taken Sylvain for granted, honestly, which is why it's strange to be suddenly confronted with the idea that something between them has... shifted. For the first time in years, things are not as they were; there is a new, nebulous state of things, and you know, maybe it's entirely in Felix's mind. Maybe Sylvain thought nothing of kissing Felix, of lifting him onto the counter and slotting fingers between Felix's ribs as though they belonged there, but—ah. Hmm. It's a memory Felix can't shove from his mind, and it doesn't matter where they are, or what they were brought here to do, or that his stupid card now has a stupid square checked off it; what matters is that Sylvain is Felix's best friend, and that Felix was willing to risk all that best friendship entails the moment Sylvain's lips pressed against his.
So it's... guilt, plaguing Felix? Something akin to it, anyway, and as this feeling worsens each day he spends avoiding Sylvain, Felix knows that the current state of affairs isn't tenable. They're stuck in this world, after all—and some not-so-small part of Felix misses Sylvain, misses the simple act of Sylvain slinging an arm about his shoulders as he recites some utterly ridiculous tale. Silly, how the smallest things mean so very much in the end...
But Felix shoved Sylvain away; it's Felix's responsibility to set things right, and thus Felix finds himself returning to their shared apartment earlier than he has in days. There's still light low in the sky, streaming through the dusty windows of their living room—and illuminating Sylvain as he lies stretched out on the couch. What he's doing, Felix does not know... but Felix makes his way over to him, anyway. Leans over the back the couch to both shoot him a (weak) scowl and drop a small parcel onto his chest.]
Here, [he says, shortly, as he folds his forearms over the tops of the cushions, obviously not planning to go anywhere until Sylvain actually opens his gift—but he sure as shit isn't making eye contact.] It's—just open it.
[Yeah! :/ Yeah. Open this pouch and admire the small tin of Bergamot Tea™, because of course Felix knows Sylvain's preferred blend.]
u did it
he expected felix to leave just as he wandered out of the bathroom to try and figure out what to do about breakfast and felix, the latter saving him the trouble by walking out the door with hardly a glance. and sylvain had stood in the empty doorway and thought, so this is how it's going to be.
it... stings. it hurts and little and he won't lie to himself about that, because it does. and it really shouldn't, because he was the one who made the conscious decision to keep everything buried for the past five years; he was the one who never said a word, never came clean, because sometimes it's easier to just accept that he doesn't deserve more than he already has. there's no time for feelings and honesty and love during the war, not when they were fighting each day just to survive and then do it all over again by next sunrise. he kept putting it off, days turning into weeks, turning into months, and suddenly it's five years later and dimitri is standing over edelgard's body in enbarr and sylvain finally remembers how to breathe again. suddenly, he finds himself guiding mercedes to every fall battalion, identifying wounded soldiers from dead ones, and there are numerous paths and doorways stretched in front of him, infinite choices and possibilities: gautier, sreng, felix among them. they stare back at him and he'd crumbled a little beneath the weight of it all.
and maybe this was what he was going for without even realizing it, why kissing felix the night before was more like a sudden burst of clarity than anything particularly life changing. there was no great spark of realization, no altered perspective—it felt like the slow track of a sunbeam across his bed, the quiet crack of a geode; the bright grin splitting felix's face nearly in two as he decoded the cipher sylvain had given him, the first of many to follow. this is how i'll talk to you, and no one else. it'd felt frighteningly normal, like it was simply the natural progression of things: sylvain spent their childhood wiping felix's tears, slowing down for him to catch up while the others chased after glenn; it should stand to reason he would wind up kissing felix on their kitchen counter one night somewhere down the line. and maybe felix regrets it, or maybe he doesn't—sylvain had no trouble reading felix when they were little, but after glenn, he'd locked up tighter than a steel trap and he'd spent the better part of his time during their academy days decoding that once more.
now, it's sort of like that, in some ways. it's so easy to give into that initial downswing, that felix regrets it, that he'd rather not want anything to do with him afterwards. but sylvain forces himself to think, to look over the little details: felix still sharing his space with him, still acknowledging his presence, still responding. and though the sting still lingers, sylvain gives him space, lets felix do what he needs to process and waits for him to seek him out when he's ready. like handling a spooked horse, so too does felix require a patient hand, and sylvain has been patient for his whole life, what's a little more on top of it?
and so this is what felix comes back to: sylvain lounging on the couch and scrolling through the network, reading through older posts and vaguely aware that felix has returned. he expects him to go immediately to the shower, but the sudden weight on his chest startles him a little enough to look down and then up at him. he's staying? and... lingering, and there's surprise all over sylvains face but he does as he's told, sitting up and undoing the ties to the parcel— ]
Felix, is this...
[ look, he knows bergamot tea, he loves that shit and he'd recognize the tin and the smell that wafts up when he opens it hits him full force. it smells like lazy days at the monastery, long afternoons where he'd skip faith class and spend it napping beneath a tree instead or hassling felix down at the training grounds. it smells like home, and sylvain knows about the augur stuff, knows that they can request things and the fact that felix asked for his favorite blend of tea is... well. ]
You got this for me? [ it's stupid, he knows, he's just really surprised, okay. and he's also very touched, and his face probably looks a little bit constipated from how touched he is, before it melts into something happier, more fond as he takes another whiff of those leaves. ] Thanks, Fe.
[ and then, because he needs to like, throw in a jab since this is what they do: ]
You didn't have to spoil me like this. You could've just apologized, you know.
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And he tells himself he isn't entirely sure what he wants it to mean? Told himself this, actually, as he walked back to their apartment after picking up this gift, but here is the truth: Felix knows what he wants. Felix watches Sylvain's face twist, then smooth, hears Sylvain ask that ridiculous question, and Felix feels the sudden, inexplicable urge to lean over the back of the couch and take Sylvain's dumb face in his hands. Of course it's for you. You're loud and annoying and I missed you.
But he doesn't, because giving in to such impulses was what led them to this very point. It's better, Felix thinks, to hunker down atop the tops of these cushions, soaking in the warmth of Sylvain's pleased expression. Better to stay silent.
Until, you know. Sylvain calls him the fuck out. There's no need for that? No need to refer to this as an apology, even if very much is, and it's the warmth creeping into his cheeks that forces Felix to reexamine whether staying silent is really the right move. It's the mortifying ordeal of being known? And yes, sure, he's been known, where Sylvain concerned, but that doesn't prevent him from feeling incredibly Seen—and that, in turn, doesn't prevent him from tilting over the back of the couch, glaring at Sylvain as he makes a swipe for that tin.]
Give it back.
[Apology-that-is-totally-not-an-apology... revoked! Damn! Even if this does feel, ah, so natural as to put him somewhat at ease.]
when u simp for four hours straight
but ah, there it is. sylvain watches the flush spread over felix's cheeks, the way he's slouched over the top of the couch cushions and looking so huffy, just like he did when they were kids. and just like when they were kids, he lunges forward to make a grab for the tin and sylvain simply holds it out of reach, his other hand coming up to hold felix by the shoulder to steady him. ]
Nuh-uh. [ he's laughing a little, still recovering from the surprise and how thoughtful felix was? like, sylvain knows felix is capable of giving people things, but it's just so rare. gone were the days when felix would just show up to meet him at the fraldarius castle gates with little trinkets he found just because, but this doesn't make it any less sweet compared to then. ] You gave this to me, so it's mine now.
that's just ur default state tbh
sHUT
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sylVAIN count: 1
how many times can felix say it in a single thread... stay tuned
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SELFIE.PNG // un: hilda
un: sjg 1/3
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3/4 i lied
4/4
1/?
2/?
3/4
4/4
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[ hate he learned how to use emojis but can't even send the right selfie... smh. ]
Would you believe me if I said it was an honest mistake?
Besides, you don't need pictures when you can see the real thing anytime.
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text, un: claudia, 1/?
update
had a dream that after nemesis we had to fight teach
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i survived so long i got fish-married to my fish-girlfriend and we had fish-children
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hell... am i really the kind of man that would eat his fish-family
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[ it's like 3am he's passing out ]
un: sjg
okay but do you think the professor is the kind of person who would eat your fish-family?
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this is so late im gomen spoon
un: annette
Sylvain! Look what I learned how to do!
|\ _,,,---,,_ ZZZzz /,`.-'`' -. ;-;;,_ |,4- ) )-,_. ,\ ( `'-' '---''(_/--' `-'\_)[ perhaps this would have been better sent to dimitri, but whatever, let a girl show off for once ]