[The squealing is enough to startle Sylvain out of his task, the branch in his hand snapping in two as he whips around. He reaches, on instinct, for a lance that isn't there. The fact that he finds empty air doesn't have time to settle uncomfortably in his gut -- the appearance of the man in the distance is enough to overcome everything else.
He hasn't seen Dimitri in years. What happened in their last days of Garreg Mach, it's all been blotted out by the blood that spilled afterward. But surely, surely he hasn't forgotten this much. There's similarities there, the color of his hair mostly. But surely his friend, his king wouldn't let himself stoop this low.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hears Felix growl something. He shakes his head as he pushes himself to his feet, Feebas forgotten in the meantime. He knows, or perhaps simply clings to the idea, that what he believes simply cannot be true. But he has to know.
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He hasn't seen Dimitri in years. What happened in their last days of Garreg Mach, it's all been blotted out by the blood that spilled afterward. But surely, surely he hasn't forgotten this much. There's similarities there, the color of his hair mostly. But surely his friend, his king wouldn't let himself stoop this low.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hears Felix growl something. He shakes his head as he pushes himself to his feet, Feebas forgotten in the meantime. He knows, or perhaps simply clings to the idea, that what he believes simply cannot be true. But he has to know.
That need draws him closer to the other man.]