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open post.
OPTIONS.
1. Random scenario generator: Whatever your heart/rng's heart fancies.
2. Anything from here - ty, garregmachmod. ♥
3. Otherworldly: Let's get pretentious with it.
4. Wildcard! Do the thing freestyle, or I will. Alternatively, you can just throw a prompt at me.
no, he is not contemplating a proposal, don't give me that look
One thing in particular, though, that Sylvain's been thinking about for a long time, keeps coming to the front of his thoughts. He's managed to lay a bit of the groundwork, although war is horrible timing to do anything more than that. And when they make a stopover at Garreg Mach on the way back to Fhirdiad - or, as Sylvain likes to think of it, a stopover for the only guaranteed good cooking they're probably going to see in a while, if Faerghus remains true to form - it occurs to him that this might be the best time to approach Ingrid, if he wants to broach the topic now and not in however much time it takes for everyone to stop being busy with Dimitri's coronation.
And when today's special has conveniently just happened to be one of Ingrid's favorites (or perhaps Sylvain's made a few well timed suggestions to the kitchen staff), and when they're done eating the meal (or inhaling it, maybe, but he'll keep that thought to himself thank you very much), he figures she's in as good a mood as she'll ever be. ]
Hey, Ingrid. I have a favor to ask. [ A beat, before he decides he'd better head this off before he's accused of something. ] Something that does not have to do with other women or my less than savory habits, before you say no without me finishing.
[ #nailedit ]
hmmmMMMMmm
He's right. She's about as pleased and indolent as she can get. When Sylvain approaches her, her smile reaches her eyes... and then he speaks, and then those same eyes narrow.
What are you about, boy? ]
If you're going to ask me for singing lessons, I think you'd be better off trying elsewhere.
[ Honestly, like, her brain is ready to shut down at any moment, eagerly prepared to throw itself into RROD mode depending on whatever Sylvain says next. ]
but I mean we can drive in that direction if she's into that
[ Deep breath. Okay, this is not the direction he was expecting this to go in...at all?
He shakes his head, less to stress a negative and more like he's trying to get his thoughts to just kind of roll back into whatever place they were in before that one threw him for a loop. ]
This won't be until after the coronation, when things settle down at least a little, but - I'm planning on going to Sreng. [ Super casual. Like planning trips into hostile territory is a normal day in the life - which, granted, it kind of has been with the war on, but this is...a little different. ] It's got to be low key, non-threatening, so I'm not taking a retinue. But...I'd like to have someone I really trust to watch my back.
nah bro, keep that shiz to yourself
Ingrid hadn't been expecting that, though. Depending on where he goes, that could be quite dangerous. Gautier has significant ties to the region, yes, but....
Sreng.
She sighs. ]
Sylvain... Have a seat.
[ She's prepared to say yes, but not without a Talk. ]
;_;
Yes, I have thought about this carefully, and yes, I do know what I'm doing. Just to get that out of the way.
no subject
Very prescient of you.
[ That said, Ingrid moves on to her real question. Her voice gentles considerably. ]
Does this have anything to do with your father?
no subject
All of the explanations and arguments he's ready to make - about how there's no better time to make peace than now, about why he's going to do it this way - are completely useless against her. Because Ingrid, in her typically Ingrid way, has seen what's going on in Sylvain's heart better than he himself does, and has cut right past what he wants to talk about to zero in on what needs to be talked about.
A beat, while he fumbles for an answer. ]
I haven't told him I'm going yet, if that's what you're asking. Not a lot of point in worrying about it while we were still fighting a war.
[ (Except apparently he's managed to worry about it himself, even while fighting a war, considering that he's this far into his planning already. Sssshh.) ]
no subject
Are you seriously dancing around my question now?
[ Her exact question had been, "does this have anything to do with your father?" Not, as it happens, "have you told your father?" Sylvain's eager sidestepping from one question to another tells her he doesn't want to answer the initial one, and that just makes Ingrid want to push harder - and angrier. ]
That's a pretty poor way to go about asking me for a favour. You knew exactly what I meant, why do you pretend otherwise?
[ Her fork hits her plate a bit too heavily, and loudly.
To put it simply, Ingrid wants to know his true reasons for going, and if it all stems back to that damnable conflict that goads at so many of their heels - crests, and the worship of them, and the cracks of familial disillusion. ]
no subject
[ She's not the only one finding this line of questioning frustrating, albeit for different reasons. ]
I've been thinking about this since we were at the academy. It's not like I've just cooked this up on the way back from Enbarr to stick it to my old man or something.
[ It'd be a lie to say his father didn't play at least some factor in how his thinking on the entire Sreng issue was shaped in the first place, of course - that much is obvious to anyone, especially Ingrid, he's sure. So there's little point in insulting her intelligence by lying and saying it has nothing to do with him.
But it's also been something he's been considering for a long time, long enough to boil down any impulsive teenage fits of emotion and let him think about what really matters. And especially, after the last five years, the thing that really matters to him doesn't have nearly as much to do with his family as it used to. ]
Everyone's sick of war. [ He was sick of it first, maybe, with the constant border conflicts, the threats nipping at House Gautier's heels that never made it to the rest of the kingdom. But they've seen things go far beyond that, now. ] Everyone. If there was ever a time to fix things on the borders, it's now.
no subject
So, when he answers in full, she sighs heavily. It's a sound he's used to. He isn't wrong to want any of this, but it's a large burden to put on her when she's already expected to return to Galatea within the coming weeks. Sreng is so much farther north. Going would delay her return home by weeks, if not months.
The strange thing? A large part of her wants to go. Larger, certainly, than the part of her that wants to return to Galatea. How well does he know her - and how cruel is it of him - to manipulate that fact to his disadvantage? She's never hesitated to tell him about her frustrations with her father, their land, and her unwanted streams of father-sanctioned suitors.
Going to a potentially hostile territory to de-escalate tensions frightens her far less than passing by Galatea on the way, and risking her father hearing about it. She's ran out of indulgences to beg and has switched to forgiveness, but even that well will dry up eventually. ]
As it happens, I agree with you, [ Ingrid says, finally. ]
We're not done discussing this, but... [ Her voice catches, stops, just briefly. ] If I do agree to go, there are two conditions. [ Wait. ] No, three.
[ Ingrid isn't looking at him as she says any of this. ]
no subject
That's fair enough. Fire away.
no subject
[ Ingrid tells herself - it's because they don't have time, that he needs to have his head on straight if they take on such a complicated mission. It's convincing, if not enough.
A second finger. ]
Two. We'll be passing by Galatea if we take the highway. If we don't stop there at least over night, Father will take it personally.
[ Finally, the third condition, the third finger. Her expression shutters, just so, as she finishes. ]
Three. While we're there... don't leave me alone.
no subject
Not often, but sometimes.
But he probably should've said it, because then he might at least have managed to distract himself from the next two conditions, which would probably be a better outcome for everyone involved.
Stay at Galatea, sure. A night there is no big deal.
And don't leave Ingrid alone. Yeah, that's fine -
- uh. ]
You, uh.
[ This is Sylvain at his unsuavest. ]
You, uhhh. Don't mean even...over...n...ig...
[ Someone, please. Derail this train of thought before the crash winds up any uglier than it already will be. ]
no subject
What Sylvain apparently heard: Let's go to bed together.
This is it. This is the moment of her defeat. ]
No, of course I don't mean the way you're thinking.
[ Pushing her plate away in frustration, she turns to look at him dead on. ]
Sylvain, your requests puts me in a very uncomfortable position. I can't pass by Galatea without deigning to stop, but that is the absolute last place I want to be right now. I'm asking you to have my back. And all you can think about is whether or not I'm inviting you into my bed?
[ As she speaks - well, monologues, really - her words get louder and louder. She's winding herself up into a fit of upset and he'll recognise the signs. She's been doing it ever since they were children, after all. If he doesn't defuse the situation immediately, he may not leave the dining area alive. ]
hi, i'm not dead. just doing stitchery like a maniac and also how about that dlc.
(There's probably at least a little bit there. As hard as Ingrid makes it to think sexy thoughts about her, it's not like he's failed to notice that she's gorgeous. But.) ]
I thought having your back went without saying, not that you had to make it a condition. When was the last time I disappeared when it really mattered?
[ For all his (GREAT MANY) flaws, "not being there" hasn't been one of them. ]
Come on, I know you have better taste than that. I was wondering if maybe this was leading into, like, "pretend we've got a thing to get my father off my back," or - I don't know.
[ ...well, he knows she has better taste than him, but possibly part of him (a part he's rather in denial about the very existence of, because - it's Ingrid) would like to hope that maybe she doesn't. Which is stupid and he knows it.
But it's certainly enough to induce a blue screen of death in the part of his brain that deals with (or tries to avoid dealing with) Actually Having a Feeling. ]
I'm not dead either!! we're so impressively alive
[ Ingrid's overactive imagination is already dreaming up two scenarios!
1. Her father, aware of Sylvain's reputation, is unimpressed by the charade and doesn't let Ingrid continue along to Sreng with him.
2. Her father, thrilled to see a lifelong friendship turn to companionship, goes full throttle - hinting at a wedding, crest-bearing grandchildren, laughingly dismissing Sylvain offering to sleep in a different room.
Regardless, she's not especially excited to live out either branch of that particular story. ]
He won't be surprised to see you. [ Her tone has calmed down, but it's clear from her voice that what she says next is an utterly exhausting prospect. ] But he also won't waste an opportunity to remind me of my duty to Galatea.