❛ i don’t think i’ve ever seen you so deep in thought, henry. what are you working on? ❜  

 grave suggestions / not accepting.

 “ to be fair, i am something of a pest. ” despite your light tone, you know it to be true. you can’t feel regret; it’s your job. this is your army, and you have a duty. oh, but you empathise with linhardt, his desire for his own knowledge. you, too are singleminded in the pursuit of something. it happens to be the opposite of his, however. 

 here is how the two of you reconciled: 

i . you gave him space. you did not press. you stepped away. you looked at his life, and he perhaps looked at yours. your one track minds clicked and whirred like a pair of well oiled machines made to do different jobs.

ii . you listened, sometimes. you hate crests. you despise them. they split your life open before you were too young to know something normal, and continue to split lives open as you wait. but you listen, as linhardt talks. and you learn : his discoveries are truly fascinating. know thy enemy, as they say, after all.

iii . following directly on, you become invested. linhardt does not know yet that you want his research, badly. his discoveries could be instrumental in learning how to destroy crests, remove them, from people, from bloodlines, from society. soon you will be free, all of you. 

iiii. you realised how invaluable linhardt was to you. a friend you could rely on. a little strange, but aren’t all of you ? he’s steadfast and earnest and hardworking behind the exhaustion, and honestly , aren’t you the same ? there’s something so nice in finding someone who thinks the way you do, even if it’s about something you don’t want to think about.

  meme.

 it’s a strange day for you; your mask is cracking, and none of the usual grounding things you do are working. all the same, you have to keep it intact. too much relies on you, on you staying firm and resolute. and you’re distracted today. far too distracted. so you weren’t looking where you were going, and wandered off like an idiot. you don’t know the way back. oh, if you’re honest, this place makes you feel sick. the archbishop at the centre of this bed of corruption always feels like she’s looking straight at you with dirty eyes that say you are nothing before me. you don’t like to be alone here. you don’t like to be away from your house room. 

 and then there’s a touch on your shoulder, and relief floods into every part of your body, down your spine and your throat relaxes. normally a touch that you weren’t expecting would make you flinch, but there’s something so familiar in the pale hand that it calms rather than frightens. you turn, see henry, and feel the… whisper, the rumour that you’ve heard but never known how to confirm chase itself round the back of your head. 

 is he… like you ? how do you ask someone that ? how do you ask did someone once hurt you, when you were too young to know the word stop ? because the white hair, the advanced magical talent, the rumours you’ve heard about him; they all match up. perhaps - and here’s the despicable part of yourself that you hate so very much - he would make a good ally, should it come down to it.

  “ ah - henry. you wouldn’t happen to know the way back to the dorms? i’m afraid even i get lost, sometimes. ” you’ll ask him another time. however brave you can be on the battlefield, you can really be a coward, can’t you ? all the same - there’s something in his presence that reminds you of the way that some of your siblings, your poor, long dead siblings, used to hold themselves before everything went wrong.