And yet Claude seems so carefree, so easy as he talks about this. Unconcerned. Is that indicative of another major chance in Dimitri, or is Claude simply being cavalier? He won't know until--
Dimitri's voice drifts up from below, and Dedue can hear his heavy footfalls as he makes his way up the stairs. There's a distinct cadence to the way he takes the stairs when he's in a hurry, and Dedue would know it even in his sleep. A blond head pokes around the corner, hair even longer than he remembers and probably in need of a trim, but, at least, more neatly kept. His blue eye is clear and bright and present in a face that no longer looks sallow and wan.
Dedue takes a few steps towards Dimitri as the other man rushes towards him, meeting him in the middle. He wants to reach out to him and touch him, because though he has never been plagued by ghosts he almost expects this healthier vision of his lord to be some kind of mirage. It would be vastly inappropriate, though, for a vassal to do such a thing, to take such liberties. His hands flex briefly at his sides, and release.
"Your Highness," he says, and there is a slight tightness to his tone that may easily be missed by anyone but Dimitri-- worry, and relief. Not only is Dimitri alive, but he seems, somehow, to be relatively well. "It seems that I have arrived late again. My apologies."
It's fine, he just walked across the entire breadth of this country in what was probably record time and stalked tracked you via your network posts and had what was probably an immensely awkward conversation with your inexplicable fan club in order to make it to this house. You might say that he walked 500 miles and then walked 500 more.
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And yet Claude seems so carefree, so easy as he talks about this. Unconcerned. Is that indicative of another major chance in Dimitri, or is Claude simply being cavalier? He won't know until--
Dimitri's voice drifts up from below, and Dedue can hear his heavy footfalls as he makes his way up the stairs. There's a distinct cadence to the way he takes the stairs when he's in a hurry, and Dedue would know it even in his sleep. A blond head pokes around the corner, hair even longer than he remembers and probably in need of a trim, but, at least, more neatly kept. His blue eye is clear and bright and present in a face that no longer looks sallow and wan.
Dedue takes a few steps towards Dimitri as the other man rushes towards him, meeting him in the middle. He wants to reach out to him and touch him, because though he has never been plagued by ghosts he almost expects this healthier vision of his lord to be some kind of mirage. It would be vastly inappropriate, though, for a vassal to do such a thing, to take such liberties. His hands flex briefly at his sides, and release.
"Your Highness," he says, and there is a slight tightness to his tone that may easily be missed by anyone but Dimitri-- worry, and relief. Not only is Dimitri alive, but he seems, somehow, to be relatively well. "It seems that I have arrived late again. My apologies."
It's fine, he just walked across the entire breadth of this country in what was probably record time and
stalkedtracked you via your network posts and had what was probably an immensely awkward conversation with your inexplicable fan club in order to make it to this house.You might say that he walked 500 miles and then walked 500 more.