#sylvain no

Ashe: No, I didn't. Thanks for telling me!

*later*

Ashe: Thanks for helping me out, Felix. You're such a thot!

Felix: ...I'm sorry, I'm a what?

Ashe: Thot! Thoughtful person!

Felix: Who told you that?

Ashe: Sylvain.

Sylvain, wheezing:

Starter for @lethargiicc !

-------------------------------

Sylvain realises, with something like creeping horror, that his priorities since his arrival at the monastery are so skewed.

He’d spent this first day simply sorting through his belongings. Honestly, he didn’t even notice that he’d packed so much, and by the time he was done he just wanted to flop down on his bed and sleep, which he did, but a two-hour nap somehow ended up with him sleeping until morning.

His second turned into finding supplies in town, which he took for an opportunity to spend the day in town and getting a feel – heh – for the local ladies, but that had turned into hanging out with Felix, which he was glad for, don’t get him wrong, but it wasn’t what he had initially planned.

He had to have been cursed, he’d made plans to attempt to go into town a few more times, but they were all thwarted. He’s in the middle of trying to figure out what high power is in play keeping him from finding the girl(s) of his dreams when it hits him.

The town is the problem, and maybe the Goddess is trying to tell him that he should be looking around the monastery itself. How could he have missed it?

Resolve found, Sylvain reaches over to rummage blindly in his drawer for the map he had received the day he arrived and gives it a once over. He could go to the dining hall, but he’s not that hungry so any invitation that he offers to eat with him would be seen through within minutes of accepting. The greenhouses could provide a pretty setting, but too intimate for a first encounter, he thinks, more of a second date spot. Finally, his eyes fall on the library on the second floor, bookish girls are usually pretty fun, often a little shy and easy to make blush.

Yep, that’s his destination. He jumps off his bed and swipes up his jacket, throwing it on but not fastening it closed, all the better for showing off his open collar, and makes his way to the library with a whistle and a spring in his step.

He’s disappointed at first, not a single woman in sight. In fact, there’s only two people even in here, a monk who gives him a filthy look that promptly halts his whistling, and a young fellow who looks more like he should be going back to bed rather than reading.

Sylvain weighs up his options. The monk is already turned off him, so he doesn’t pay her much attention. The boy is busy, but he’s also cute. Still, disturbing him doesn’t seem like all that smart of an idea, really.

But what need does Sylvain have for something like better judgement?

He crosses the room in a handful of strides, pulling out the chair next to the boy and spinning it around so he can straddle it, rest his elbows on the top of the backrest and his chin upon his arms, grinning an amorous grin.