[ Halls that were once replete with life and noise are now deathly still. The silence, which is somehow much more unbearable than even the soundless void that surrounded the Goddess' throne, gnawed at him in the first few hours of his homecoming. Now, he's accustomed to it. So much so that it takes that small grunt—which feels far more human than the earlier crunch of pebbles beneath his boots—to remind him of the deafening quiet of the monastery. It reverberates in the enclosed space, or perhaps it only seems that way to his ears. Regardless, the noise attracts his gaze and he finds himself observing the set of Dimitri's jaw.
...has he said something strange? Try as he might, studying the man reveals nothing more. All it provides is a fleeting thought that the prince's features stand out even when bathed in shadow. It's only after Dimitri makes his "concession" that Byleth's eyes stray to the side.
It's a dissatisfying response for many reasons. The cathedral has seen the most decay of any space in the monastery—the dirt that envelops the room, the debris that have laid siege to the ground, and the exposed interior that allows every element within its walls. There are better choices for a respite and yet... What can he do save agree?
After all, this could be an expression of Dimitri's faith in the goddess. Though it seems more likely he is struggling to grab hold of a reason when reason no longer applies.
"There is no one here but the dead."
The statement brings a crease to his brows and, with it, a twinge of an emotion he has come to know but not yet fully grasped how to cope with. To ward the sentiment away, Byleth raises a hand to gently touch at his bangs. The gesture only lasts a moment before he shakes his head and collects the supplies he needs. Then, he heads to the door. ]
... You and I are here. [ And they are the only ones. That he hopes his students will return and reside within these halls again is foolish, sentimental, and selfish. Like Dimitri, they have surely grown and found new pursuits. They cannot, nor should they, stay students forever. Even knowing that, he cannot keep himself from wishing otherwise.
brings out a broom
...has he said something strange? Try as he might, studying the man reveals nothing more. All it provides is a fleeting thought that the prince's features stand out even when bathed in shadow. It's only after Dimitri makes his "concession" that Byleth's eyes stray to the side.
It's a dissatisfying response for many reasons. The cathedral has seen the most decay of any space in the monastery—the dirt that envelops the room, the debris that have laid siege to the ground, and the exposed interior that allows every element within its walls. There are better choices for a respite and yet... What can he do save agree?
After all, this could be an expression of Dimitri's faith in the goddess. Though it seems more likely he is struggling to grab hold of a reason when reason no longer applies.
"There is no one here but the dead."
The statement brings a crease to his brows and, with it, a twinge of an emotion he has come to know but not yet fully grasped how to cope with. To ward the sentiment away, Byleth raises a hand to gently touch at his bangs. The gesture only lasts a moment before he shakes his head and collects the supplies he needs. Then, he heads to the door. ]
... You and I are here. [ And they are the only ones. That he hopes his students will return and reside within these halls again is foolish, sentimental, and selfish. Like Dimitri, they have surely grown and found new pursuits. They cannot, nor should they, stay students forever. Even knowing that, he cannot keep himself from wishing otherwise.
He truly is a terrible teacher. ]
This will require fresh water.