[ Surprisingly, the loss of five years isn't so difficult to cope with. Perhaps because his mind has always been somewhat pliant, though instinct tells him his disposition is not the sole cause of his acceptance. There's something else at play here. A concept he can barely grasp but knows intuitively to be right. Just. As if this is the universe's attempt to balance the scales after he's recklessly defied the laws of the world and turned back time for his own selfish gain.
In other words, this is "fate."
Acknowledging his pilfered time as an inevitability does not mean his mind is completely at ease, however. Too much has transpired in his absence, more than he can begin to comprehend without venturing outside these stone walls. All he knows is the world he had only just begun to know has been turned on its head, leaving his home in disarray and his students scattered.
That said, scattered feels too mild a word when most everyone's fate remains unknown. Most, but not all. He'd been happy when he stumbled across Dimitri, the face familiar to him even when the expression was not. Over the last two days, however, whatever comfort came from being in his student's presence has mixed with concern. There's no sign of the smile of the prince he used to know, no sign of joy or kindness. These years apart have left Dimitri hurt in ways that he's yet to fully grasp.
Will the rest of his students be like this, too? The thought brings with it a spike of guilt. Guilt, for sleeping while his students suffered—and for accepting his lot so easily. Realistically, he probably couldn't have done much to change the events that occurred while he slept, but he cannot help but feel responsible all the same.
Sometime during his musings, his feet bring him to Dimitri's side. This place... he hasn't been here since his fall. Memories of the battle begin to flood his mind, but he wills them away in favor of focusing on the sight before him. That wound...
The severity of the injury stuns him, though he's otherwise unsurprised. He'd noticed signs of it in the way Dimitri moved, almost too stiff at times. Too rigid. He'd even caught traces of the scent of fresh blood and a festering wound when his companion moved too suddenly, presumably prying bandages from their place.
Byleth's lips tug unknowingly into a frown, and his eyes remain fixed on the sight right until Dimitri speaks. Reluctantly, he raises his gaze to his companion's one blue eye to take in his words.
... are his actions truly so unfathomable? He's often accused of being a hard man to read, but staying feels as natural to him as breathing. ]
Do I strike you as so callous a person? [ There's a moment's pause after his question. He doesn't need the time to gather his thoughts, nor does he require an answer when he's already well aware of what it will be. The pause comes only so he can consider how much of an explanation is needed here. ] I suppose I understand, in some small way, why you might believe that. But I'm afraid there is no mystery here. I stay out of worry for your well-being.
If that isn't reason enough— [ Here, his lids slide to a close and he releases a quiet exhale. ] —then let us leave it at this: this is my home, and there is little for me anywhere but here.
no subject
In other words, this is "fate."
Acknowledging his pilfered time as an inevitability does not mean his mind is completely at ease, however. Too much has transpired in his absence, more than he can begin to comprehend without venturing outside these stone walls. All he knows is the world he had only just begun to know has been turned on its head, leaving his home in disarray and his students scattered.
That said, scattered feels too mild a word when most everyone's fate remains unknown. Most, but not all. He'd been happy when he stumbled across Dimitri, the face familiar to him even when the expression was not. Over the last two days, however, whatever comfort came from being in his student's presence has mixed with concern. There's no sign of the smile of the prince he used to know, no sign of joy or kindness. These years apart have left Dimitri hurt in ways that he's yet to fully grasp.
Will the rest of his students be like this, too? The thought brings with it a spike of guilt. Guilt, for sleeping while his students suffered—and for accepting his lot so easily. Realistically, he probably couldn't have done much to change the events that occurred while he slept, but he cannot help but feel responsible all the same.
Sometime during his musings, his feet bring him to Dimitri's side. This place... he hasn't been here since his fall. Memories of the battle begin to flood his mind, but he wills them away in favor of focusing on the sight before him. That wound...
The severity of the injury stuns him, though he's otherwise unsurprised. He'd noticed signs of it in the way Dimitri moved, almost too stiff at times. Too rigid. He'd even caught traces of the scent of fresh blood and a festering wound when his companion moved too suddenly, presumably prying bandages from their place.
Byleth's lips tug unknowingly into a frown, and his eyes remain fixed on the sight right until Dimitri speaks. Reluctantly, he raises his gaze to his companion's one blue eye to take in his words.
... are his actions truly so unfathomable? He's often accused of being a hard man to read, but staying feels as natural to him as breathing. ]
Do I strike you as so callous a person? [ There's a moment's pause after his question. He doesn't need the time to gather his thoughts, nor does he require an answer when he's already well aware of what it will be. The pause comes only so he can consider how much of an explanation is needed here. ] I suppose I understand, in some small way, why you might believe that. But I'm afraid there is no mystery here. I stay out of worry for your well-being.
If that isn't reason enough— [ Here, his lids slide to a close and he releases a quiet exhale. ] —then let us leave it at this: this is my home, and there is little for me anywhere but here.