[In that interim, his head has hung down, expecting the quiet footsteps over stone that will carry the professor away from him again. He is prepared to wait out in the cold night, wind scything his skin numb as Byleth vanishes and the promise of his return feels up to chance—that perhaps this is all imagined, in the end. He cannot seem to shake this possibility no matter how many times he's proved wrong.
Then he's spoken to, and a gloved hand is offered out once more. So like the phantom who had first found him in the ruins of the monastery only two days ago. Dimitri stares at it. His mind feels blank, his body tired and heavy.]
... [That sole eye closes as broad shoulders flex and relax on a deep, exhaling breath.] If you meant to show true kindness, you would leave me be for good.
[Yet these words come without that hot, incendiary tone he's thrown at the professor since their reunion. It's simply bare and worn down, vaguely reminiscent of a more polite, considerate version of himself than the beast he's become (and always was).
There's really no other choice. Even like this, he feels beholden to Byleth's instruction, regardless of everything else. Dimitri clasps that hand with his own—so much larger, folding over those thin and slender fingers, his palm huge and surprisingly warm. But he doesn't use the professor to leverage up his considerable size. Instead, his other hand plants on the stone and he pushes from there, until he's standing at his full and towering height, prepared to follow.]
no subject
Then he's spoken to, and a gloved hand is offered out once more. So like the phantom who had first found him in the ruins of the monastery only two days ago. Dimitri stares at it. His mind feels blank, his body tired and heavy.]
... [That sole eye closes as broad shoulders flex and relax on a deep, exhaling breath.] If you meant to show true kindness, you would leave me be for good.
[Yet these words come without that hot, incendiary tone he's thrown at the professor since their reunion. It's simply bare and worn down, vaguely reminiscent of a more polite, considerate version of himself than the beast he's become (and always was).
There's really no other choice. Even like this, he feels beholden to Byleth's instruction, regardless of everything else. Dimitri clasps that hand with his own—so much larger, folding over those thin and slender fingers, his palm huge and surprisingly warm. But he doesn't use the professor to leverage up his considerable size. Instead, his other hand plants on the stone and he pushes from there, until he's standing at his full and towering height, prepared to follow.]