You know, Sylvain's not usually one for solo missions! He doesn't have Dimitri's raw strength to fall back on in a pinch, nor is he so confident in his ability to outmaneuver and outclass his opponents as Felix. Comparably, he's found he's at his best when he has the support of trusted friends and allies at his side--and, perhaps more importantly, when he has someone he wants to protect.
That last part does have a bit of a tendency to outweigh anything else, for better or for worse. Like... well, now, for example. He'd meant for it to be a simple trip! Sure, he'd be the first to admit that the plan had hardly been his most sensible right from the very start, but when he'd inquired about a certain location on the map--Caph, a place left distanced from the majority of the Court's other territories--and was waved off by claims that it wasn't worth checking, what else was he meant to do? There hadn't been time to sway anyone else to come with him by the time he'd decided, and it was meant to be a simple trip anyway... Ride out, check for potential signs of survival around the area (he's used to patrolling borders, after all) and then be back in Acubens by the next nightfall.
Looking back now, he thinks as he steps blindly back and nearly stumbles over one of countless bones littering the ground surrounding, it's a damn good thing Felix had been so stubbornly against the idea that he'd decided to come out as well. Without the light of the moon, Sylvain can only just make out the merciless swing of a Spartae's sword as it clangs uselessly against his shield; it feels too heavy as he lifts it, exhaustion clearly written in the effort it takes to return the blow, but the way the creature finally gives way against the silver-tipped lance Felix oh-so-kindly borrowed for him (thanks for the unknowing donation, Priestess, u da best) provides just enough relief for him to keep going against all odds. He can still hear Felix fighting some distance from him--and that brings a sort of relief with it as well--but how long have they been at this? Hours, surely, as the weariness searing into his muscles and the ache of bruises from blunt blows blossoming beneath his armor seems to suggest they've been at it all night. Too long, he corrects, a laugh caught in his throat like it might be trying to choke him. They've been fighting too long. Even the strongest soldier on the battlefield doesn't stand a chance if he can't bring himself to keep fighting, and if things continue like this...
...In a moment's respite, he tries to pick out his companion's frame against the seamlessly dark horizon. Although... he doesn't have as much trouble as he expects, actually? Or maybe it just... isn't so dark anymore. Sylvain nearly catches a mace to the shoulder as his tired mind tries to work these details into something concrete, something usable, and it's only once he glances back to his newest assailant and has to blink as his eyes fight to adjust to the change that he catches the faint golden glow rising on the horizon.
Even still, it's not until he fells the creature and finds none near enough to replace it that things slowly start to click into place.
"Felix," he shouts, and he aims for relieved but lands somewhere squarely between startled and panicked as he catches one last Spartae as it retreats past him. "Is... is that it?"
Did they actually survive that, because frankly, he's pretty sure he's tired enough to pass for dead.
[Riding into the wilderness was a stupid, stupid call to make—for both of them, honestly, but it wasn't as if Sylvain had given Felix much of a choice. Oh, Felix could have left him to his own devices, sure; Felix could have continued his survey of Medii and allowed the others to (hopefully) collect the idiot in their midst, and yet? And yet. The unfortunate, uncomfortable truth is that Felix knew what he was going to do the instant he'd skimmed through Sylvain's stupid message, because despite his determination to keep his old allies—his friends—at an arm's length...
...Well. It's something to mull over at a later, safer time; he certainly has no time to do so now, not as he focuses on pushing back wave after wave of Spartae. They're never-ending, apparently. Not particularly difficult to fight, really, but it's the sheer number of them that makes them a threat. Take one down, three more come out of nowhere—but he can't stop. Even as his movements grow sluggish, as his reaction time steadily slows, he draws upon his mounting frustration—not good enough, clearly, not strong enough—and forces himself forward, time and time and time again.
Or: Felix is running on autopilot, which is why, as he disarms a Spartae before neatly sending its skull flying, it takes him a moment to register... two things: that familiar voice calling out to him, and the fact that there are no enemies currently shambling his way. And maybe, just maybe, that has something to do with the faint light creeping over the tops of the surrounding trees? The bit of his brain that's still functioning slowly connects the sun to the hastily retreating enemies, but after hours of fighting, is this... it, or is this a trick...]
Stay vigilant, [he barks back, forcing himself to bring his blade up, to maintain his defensive posture as he watches things scurry into the shadows.] What do you see?
[Because there could be more coming from Sylvain's side of the clearing—but somehow, he doubts it. Didn't the person who gave him these weapons—thank u, Medii quartermaster, u the REAL MVP—tell him something about creatures fearing the sun... maybe... you know, it's hard to keep making these necessary fucking connections???]
Goddess, don't expect him to think any more than he already has... He's still got his lance braced in front of him, stance balanced if perhaps a bit unsteady, but the longer he stands still, the harder it is to stay as vigilant as Felix instructs. His body feels more like it's held up by carefully strung wires, adrenaline an electric buzz that makes everything feel somehow both light and immensely heavy all at once. If another wave does come, he's pretty sure he's screwed... But like, he tries? He glances back, at least, the evidence of shaky breaths hanging in the air as he pieces together the scene before him.
"It's..." Give him a second? Really, just the one is fine. The Spartae soldiers nearby have definitely decreased in number, the majority of those remaining making a hasty withdrawal despite their marked advantage up 'til now. He can't see any signs of anything coming to replace them, be it a new group or some secondary beast sent to secure their victory. "...They're leaving."
Which is objectively, like, not a very helpful statement? It doesn't tell Felix where they're going, or whether they should be leaving too--but then again, there are still details to be found in what he leaves unsaid, as well. The creatures aren't luring them into further combat, so the chances of an attempted ambush are slim; there are no archers lining the trees in the distance, nor the familiar sound of warhorses' hooves over the crisp morning snow. For the moment, at least, the two of them seem to be on their way to being well and truly alone after this night from hell itself.
Sylvain turns to Felix again, and this time he does let his arms fall. Or, actually, you know what? He lets his entire self fall, stabbing the point of his lance into the ground as he drops back, one knee propped up for him to sort of lean on while he regathers himself. It's fine! He's like, 99.9% sure there are no other soldiers in reach... and the sky only lightens further the longer they wait.
"They're leaving." With some finality this time, because Felix won't believe him unless he's sure of it, he knows. "Damn... I was starting to think they'd never stop."
sylvain, the point of the promise... is to live, NOT send felix to an early grave
[That is vague information, Sylvain—but as Felix watches the last of the Spartae disappear from his field of view, he slowly, finally, lowers his blade. For all the sharp-tongued criticism he lobs his old friend's way, he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Sylvain is someone he can count on; he trusts that Sylvain says as little as he does because there's nothing truly important to add. They've made it? They've made it...
...And while that realization is a welcome one, it's followed by a wave of exhaustion so strong that he almost—almost!—sways in place. It's sheer stubbornness that keeps him upright, but as he takes in a deep breath, testing his (bruised) ribs, the sound of something heavily hitting the earth behind him sends him hurriedly twisting around. But it's just... Sylvain, of course. Stupid, stupid Sylvain, choosing to sit the fuck down instead of, you know, finding their horses and putting as much distance between themselves and this spot as possible. Ill-advised!
But understandable, Felix supposes, even if he is scowling as he sheathes his sword and heads Sylvain's way. He should be furious that Sylvain took such a ridiculous, unnecessary risk. He is furious—and yet, once he's actually standing beside him? Once he gives him a quick once-over and sees no grievous injuries? That fury is tempered, somewhat, by the relief he feels.
Again: somewhat. It's certainly not enough stop him from bracing one (1) disgusting, mud-covered boot against Sylvain's shoulder as he considers how close a call this truly was. Yes, they held their own. Yes, he also thought the enemies would never, ever stop. Yes, he is also grateful to be ALIVE, but hey? Hey. Hey.]
You idiot, [he snaps,making sure to put some heat in those words—and also pointedly ignoring everything Sylvain said. Suffer.] I should run you through myself.
[Glad you're alive, best buddy. Honestly. Please appreciate Felix using the last of his strength to... attempt to push you over.]
This spot is probably the safest spot they've got for the time being?? And their horses are... probably someplace... they've got that animal instinct to drive them away from danger. Do they really want to go hike across the wilderness immediately after all of this? Sources say... no!! Sylvain most certainly is NOT looking forward to retrieving anything, for that matter, or even having to ride all the way back to civilization at all if he's honest. He just wants to sit and rest for a while...
And surely--surely!--Felix feels the same! Which is why Sylvain makes no effort to so much as lift his head when the other man comes up beside him. It's actually only once he feels that blunt pressure against his shoulder, the sound of boot hitting metal not matching up with any reasonable action his tired mind might come up with, that he opens his eyes, glancing over first... and then up...
...Hmm. He's, ah, not expecting that look? Rather, he's not expecting it so SOON, but. Alas... Sylvain can hardly manage a full--
"Wait, Felix--"
--before he does, in fact, go right over into the cold, slushy mud with a(n admittedly exaggerated) yelp as the impact knocks into one or six sore spots. Does he deserve this... yes. Is he aware that he deserves this... ALSO yes! One could even argue he deserves far worse than this, like, half hearted nudge, and YET, amazingly, none of those facts are enough to stop Sylvain from continuing to make terrible decisions and digging this hole he's in ever deeper. Go figure.
Turns out, it's not especially difficult to feign injury, given that he's got plenty of practice being suitably Dramatic under his belt and more than enough bruises forming to choose from. SO... once he hits the ground, he picks the worst of them and plays it up from there: his opposite hand flies to his side, just below his ribcage, a short noise escaping low between gritted teeth. He was already going to just... lay here and accept his fate, so it won't hurt to simply curl against himself, just a bit, as if to stave off the Obviously Excruciating pain as he forces a quiet laugh.
"Come on... we made it through, didn't we?"
Sorry, Felix, but can you really be so MEAN to an obviously-wounded man? He surely sounds hurt, voice artfully strained, even if there doesn't seem to be any sign of outward injury. It could still be worse than it looks! He could be dying!! And then wouldn't Felix feel bad!
Edited (HTML is for losers ANYWAY!!) 2019-10-31 01:02 (UTC)
[There is a moment—just a moment—where Felix wonders how many hits Sylvain took, because the noise he makes as he hits the ground is... unexpected. Plus it wasn't as if Felix was paying close attention to him while they were both, you know. Fending off way too many skeleton soldiers. Wouldn't it be just like his dumbass friend to ignore a serious injury in order to keep on fighting because Felix was fighting... like, wouldn't it be just like him to put his life on the line for the ~greater good~...
...Yes, that does indeed sound like a Sylvain Move™, which is why Felix's eyes widen the slightest bit as he peers down at him. He's too tired to keep his expression angrily neutral—and too tired to immediately put two and two together, but oh, his brain catches up to this bullshit surprisingly quickly. Enjoy the concerned look for the, like, three (3) seconds it lasts, Sylvain. Really.
Because once Felix determines that the likelihood of Sylvain suffering a grievous injury... is relatively low, that scowl is coming right back in full! Force! This is another example of Sylvain being Sylvain, he thinks, and while that's oddly welcome? While it's good to think that he's well enough to be his typically stupid self?]
"We?" That remains to be seen.
[Aka "I survived, yes, but I meant what I said—I should run you through." And while he's too tired to go for another kick, he will use the tip of his booth to nudge the back of Sylvain's thigh. Not... unkindly, though. Not roughly, because there's still a trace of doubt in his mind. What if...]
Quit fooling around, Sylvain. I'm not in the mood.
[He's TIRED and he's CRANKY and so help him, if this approach doesn't work... if Sylvain really is injured out here, in the middle of fucking nowhere...]
It's a nice three seconds! Sylvain really does appreciate that glimpse of concern, as short-lived as it may be... which is why he eases up so quickly after it fades back into that all-too-familiar scowl. Ah well.
"Hey, better you do it than some creepy undead guy," he shrugs, dropping the act so he can push himself slowly back up. It's said like a casual sort of thing, as if he isn't discussing this supposed preference on whose sword he'd rather die by, so he doesn't linger on the topic any longer than he needs to sit more comfortably again. "Can you at least save the scolding for later? You're starting to sound like His Highness."
A BOLD STATEMENT coming from someone on thin ice already! The strain has left his voice entirely, leaving just an honest sort of exhaustion and some vague relief left to color it. But regardless, he reaches an arm out to wrap around Felix's legs, aiming specifically to... unsteady him? Like, he's not rude enough to swipe him totally off balance, perhaps, but if he tugs at him just enough... uses pressure at the backs of his knees to make him stumble down to his level... well, surely that much is fair game? Because Sylvain is tired too, and he'll accept whatever lecture is sure to come for him later, but for right now, he just wants to savor the (comparably) peaceful moment.
But it is peaceful?? Like... if you ignore the signs of battle all around them, scattered bones and weapons indenting the downtrodden slush (it's not as if they haven't both seen far worse by way of aftermath, anyway) it's easy to focus on the fact the sky is still melting into the colors of early morning, light scattering blindingly bright spots against the heavy layer of snow still blanketing most of the earth. There's not really any birdsong to fill the silence, but that's what bickering is for? Obviously??
In other words: sit the fuck down, Felix. Sylvain knows you're as dead on your feet as he is.
[He knew it! He knew Sylvain was faking, which is why that Look only intensifies when Sylvain dares to make a grab for his legs—but as annoying as Sylvain is? As tempting as it is to give Sylvain a solid kick in the ribs, just to really drive this point home? It's... good, he supposes, to know that, in spite of everything they've been through, Sylvain is somehow hardy enough to be his usual idiotic self.
And this is perhaps the one (1) person in this world who can get away with both this degree of contact and that unfair comparison, even if Felix wastes no time bending down just far enough to swat that arm away. Hey! He's too sore to deal with this—and far too sore to fall in a heap alongside Sylvain, so let! GO! He'll sit on his own terms!!]
Compare me to the boar again, fool.
[It's muttered lowly enough to practically be a threat, because yeah, Sylvain! See what happens then! But once he is, in fact, free of that grip, he only remains on his feet for a few seconds longer? Long enough to check the state of the sun and ensure that Sylvain has given up on pulling him down to his level; he still has his stubborn pride, you see, but once he's sure that Sylvain isn't about to go for his second attempt... once he's sure that Sylvain isn't seconds away from doing the reasonable thing, i.e. whining at Felix until Felix helps him back to his feet...
...Well. So this is where they're remaining for the time being, huh? Felix has little choice but to (stiffly) drop down beside Sylvain, not even caring that there's only, like, a few inches between them. Water is wet! The sky is blue! Sylvain gets away with more things than other people even dream of getting away with, because Sylvain is, without a doubt, Felix's closest friend. There's little Felix wouldn't do for this absolute moron.
That doesn't, however, save said moron catching an elbow to the ribs as Felix looks up over the tops of these trees, savoring both the silence and the light. And even if it winds up being a more painful thing for Felix, given all that armor... pbbt. It's still worth it, hence his loud HUFF.]
It certainly does sound like a threat, but that only makes it easier to laugh off as he leans clumsily away to avoid that swat. Felix continues to be Felix--and so Sylvain, being Sylvain, will relent, shifting back into his own space with his hands lifted in (mostly) mock surrender. He can take a hint!! He'll just settle back as comfortably as he can in this otherwise uncomfortable place, all cold, uneven ground and stones dulled only by his protective layer of armor. He won't look over when Felix does inevitably sit--wouldn't want to acknowledge it and send him stomping across the clearing so soon, after all--but he does relax a bit, some of the remaining tension easing out of him in the form of a short, silent sigh.
...And then the asshole has to go and elbow him, because they aren't allowed to have anything nice. Despite the effective 'No Damage' that ought to flash overhead, Sylvain gives an exaggerated wince, a quiet protest already at his lips. But... hm. The question gives him pause as he considers the gentle gradient coloring the sky above them. He hums.
"Have you heard anything about this place?" 'This place,' he says, accompanied by a vague nod in the direction of Caph. They're not even close enough to see it, honestly--even if he hadn't listened when told to go elsewhere, he'd at least heeded the locals' warnings about magic, poisonous air, because honestly that just doesn't sound like a fun time for anyone. "Apparently it's been totally abandoned."
Which is the perfect reason to risk life and limb coming to visit, obviously! He honestly hadn't asked about it too much--hadn't had the time to, given the circumstance--but in everyone's rush to get any non-combatants to safety, any inquiries about the supposedly cursed city had been given partial answers at best, or brushed off altogether at worst.
"...No one seemed interested in coming up this far, not even to doublecheck. Guess they figured anyone stupid enough to get stuck out here deserved to get eaten, huh?"
The words are... sickening, in their own right. They taste bitter in his mouth, this entire idea of people being eaten twisting at his stomach as he thinks of families torn apart by one of their own, a loved one turned vicious monster in the dead of night. He wonders what might have brought them to that point... But he laughs without missing a beat, bright and unshaken; he ignores the knot coiled in his stomach in favor of maintaining a carefully neutral smile.
"I guess they were kind of right, after all." Like. Half right. Bummer!! "But if someone had been left here alone, and no one had come to help... well. They would've been a goner for sure."
See, Felix? He knows he was in deep shit!! It doesn't mean he didn't put himself there to begin with, but at least he's self-aware.
[That wince is straight-up ignored, because fool him once, buddy... fool him once! But for all their back and forth, Felix knows Sylvain well enough to recognize that a thoughtful Sylvain is usually worth listening to; it's why he studies his friend's face for a moment, forgoing a second, rougher elbow jab as he follows that gaze over to... a stretch of trees. Stunning.
But he'll keep his eyes on those trees while Sylvain continues, allowing this idiot to explain himself even when hearing "it's been totally abandoned" sends Felix pressing his lips into a thin line. Of course Sylvain would come rushing up here to check this region, then. Of course Sylvain would rather risk his life than the lives of, what, a handful of strangers? At best? A stupid, stupid move—and so perfectly Sylvain that it almost makes him sick.
That laugh, however, is ultimately what sends Felix glancing back at Sylvain himself, because while it would sound perfectly natural to anyone else... hmm. Given everything that's been said...]
...You would have deserved it, [he says, implying that, no, no one else would—and that he also gets what Sylvain is going for here, even as he hones back on those very interesting trees.] You're as reckless as ever.
[As IDIOTIC, but here's the truth: if Sylvain is a fool for coming up here, then he's a fool for riding out to meet him. He knows this. He feels this deeply. It's why, after a few seconds of silence, it's his turn to sigh—and while he tries to sound as annoyed as ever, you know what? He's just... tired, for many, many reasons, and the only reason he allows a trace of it to come through is because it's Sylvain he's dealing with.]
But you can't be. Not here.
["Here" as in, like... this world? As a whole?? They're on opposite sides, and while he has no idea how bad any and all future conflicts will be... well. They both know he won't—can't—always be by Sylvain's side.]
He would have deserved it, really--and if something had happened to Felix, he would have doubly deserved it--and yet he still can't find it in him to regret coming up the way he did. It's selfish of him, he knows. Like, to risk not just his own life, but his best friend's as well? All because he wouldn't have been able to sleep well not knowing? Because he might not have slept at all, had he learned someone was hurt by his inaction?
But things turned out... fine-ish, so at least the guilt he feels isn't quite so strong. It's only enough to tighten his expression a bit, rather than make it fall completely; his smile twists into something smaller with Felix's words, teetering right on the very edge of apologetic.
"Yeah," he sighs, "yeah... I know." What is this, twice now that he's been given the 'you can't be such an idiot' speech since they got here? Damn. New record. "I'll try to be more careful."
He can't afford to be too reckless here. Not when he'll be dragging the others down right along with him, and not when there's a chance they'll need his help down the line, either. It's hard to adjust his approach so drastically, and he just knows he's gonna screw it up again later, too. So for now he's just gonna go back to staring at those trees (they're very nice trees, very... treelike...) and fall silent again... It's not like he expects anyone to come to his rescue or anything? He can handle himself! Like. Usually...
It's after a short moment pondering that train of thought that he pipes up again with a quiet:
"...Thanks, by the way." He glances down with a nudge of his own, bumping their arms together much more gently than Felix had. "For coming."
As if it even needs clarification. "For saving my stupid ass," is what he should say, but he's pretty sure Felix can supplement that much himself.
[I'll try, Sylvain says, and Felix knows that he means it... as much as he can. Oh, he'll certainly make an attempt to be more thoughtful! He'll remember this conversation, just as he remembers the many others before it, and he'll do his best to be careful—until others are in danger, that is. Until another situation like this one pops up, because Sylvain is... Sylvain. A reckless fool who always—always—comes through when it counts, and Felix hates that about him.
(Felix appreciates that about him.)
So Sylvain thanking him is... pointless, really. "Thanks for saving my ass!" is a thing that should be said, like, as little as possible, because it's the sort of thing that implies the speaker will try very, very hard to avoid repeating their mistake(s) in the future; Sylvain, however, will make this particular mistake time and time again, and they both know this, and while Felix feels that familiar frustration bubbling back up—hmm. He's here now, you know? Keeping his arm close to Felix's like he thinks Felix will neither notice nor care, and Felix breathes out a short, sharp breath before looking back at him.]
I'm not doing it again, [is what he says, voice stern—and this, too, is something they both know? Something they both know is a patent lie, because Felix will come to Sylvain's aid as many times as he's able. Someone has to make sure that Sylvain doesn't die an unfortunately early death.
But there's knowing something, and there's verbalizing it, so! So. Felix studies his friend's face for a moment longer, taking in that small smile and those familiar brown eyes, before he shifts his gaze back up to the treeline. Look at that sunrise! Bright, beautiful colors... a sight for sore eyes, after a night spent fighting stupid skeletons...
And you know, it's just so distracting that he's just going to? Leave his arm right where it is? Barely brushing against Sylvain's.]
Go back. Before the boar notices you're gone.
[Maybe? Probably. He should have already noticed such a thing, if he's worth anything at all.]
That's really as good as a 'you're welcome', isn't it? Or it's as good as he'll get from Felix, anyway, but he's gotten pretty good at understanding these Felixisms over the years... It's kind of like a second, silent language of hidden meanings beneath every jab or insult, a dozen things left unsaid for each one spoken aloud. He likes to think he's more fluent in it than anyone, save for Felix himself--Dimitri might be a close contender, if only 1. Felix were a more willing teacher, and 2. Dimitri hadn't skipped the homework for years on end. It's... fine though?? Like, they're both idiots, but they're his idiots; he's gotten comfortable enough with things the way they are.
In any case, Sylvain's eye lingers even after Felix has turned away again. It's really just long enough for him to reminisce a bit (the memories are bittersweet, but he's tired, and he can't bring himself to get lost in some mindless daydream) before he's glancing back out and keeping his mouth decidedly shut as far as Felix's small allowance.
...It's nice, even if it's actually pretty bittersweet, too. He could break the silence by pointing out how beautiful the sunrise is, though given how the brightening sky acts as a signal for their inevitable departure, he's sure the compliment would taste just as empty as any other he might give: honest, perhaps, but strikingly insincere. They've been apart before, and for longer as well... however, with the others around? And the knowledge that he's here, just not with them? It makes his absence that much more obvious. So, y'know... maybe it isn't just aching muscles that keep him from pushing himself to his feet.
And of course, as if on cue, Felix puts voice to the thoughts he'd rather ignore for just a while longer. He expects this from him, and yet...
"I'm sure he's got plenty to keep him busy, without keeping tabs on all of us... me, especially. I mean, it's not like this is the first time I've stayed out all night."
Although it was definitely a contender for the WORST, comparatively speaking.
"You think he'll be upset?" Maybe if they just... don't tell anyone else about the whole 'endless skeleton army' thing...
[Sylvain's philandering is just, like, a fact of life at this point, and yet? And yet. Thinking about Sylvain running from bed to bed in this world is particularly grating, because seriously, Sylvain, there are other things to focus on! More important things! Would it kill him to take things seriously for once...
...Except that isn't entirely fair, which is why Felix merely frowns up at the sky as he considers how, exactly, Dimitri would react to Sylvain's absence. He's probably off fighting his own fight(s)? With Mercedes and Ashe alongside him, hopefully, but when it comes to Sylvain—well. It's been Felix, Sylvain, and Ingrid for quite some time now. They're supposed to look out for one another, aren't they? They're used to this arrangement, thanks to the five years they spent fighting for Faerghus' future, but with Ingrid missing and the two remaining friends in opposite factions—
Ah. You know what? He's not going to think about that. He's too tired, thanks, so accept this oh-so quiet snort of disdain.]
He'll think coming alone was a stupid thing for you to do. [Maybe. If he has any sense left, that is, but.] For once, I don't disagree.
[And you know it's serious if he, like, openly admits that he'll agree with Dimitri on something. Wild! Take this to heart—especially once Felix bumps his arm back against Sylvain's before adding:]
Stay together.
[A touch quieter than anything he's said before? A touch more... open.]
The real question here should be whether it'll be worse if or when they find out that getting too close to the city itself is Literally a death sentence, but at least Sylvain isn't reckless enough to not keep that particular warning in mind. Alone or not, the fact remains that coming out this far at all was a pretty risky move... Still not one he regrets, necessarily, but the more time passes and the clearer his mind gets (as clear as it can be after an exhaustive night like that), the more he finds himself appreciating the peace they've been afforded now. He'll live to make stupider decisions another day...!
But he does take Felix's words to heart. Of course he does--even if there is the faintest glint of humor in his eye as he bites back the, "See, you two are just alike," that he's certain would turn that bump into more of a jab. He's a master at putting his foot in his mouth, but listen?? It's not worth it, right now.
"You're one to talk," he teases, but rather than accusatory, he sounds almost... fond, if perhaps a bit weary, as if he's already resigned himself to the fact that Felix will be Felix, just as Felix has that Sylvain will be Sylvain. Plus, it's not like he's going to hold the whole 'different factions' thing against him--not when he's still confident he'd be with the rest of them in a heartbeat, if it were only that easy. "You came out alone, too."
Mr. LONE WOLF over here...
"Then again, you always were the one who tagged along whenever I did something especially stupid... You'd think we would've learned by now." He can't imagine dragging Dimitri into half of the shit he's done, and he's sure Ashe or Mercedes would be strongly opposed to, like, 98% of his ideas. Felix might be opposed, too, but he's at least willing to see them through most of the time. "But, I can't say I have any other plans to split off from the others, for the time being... You should stick with Marianne, too."
She's reliable!! And sweet!! And if he can't be there, then he'd at least like to know Felix has someone he can rely on, too...
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Action; A novel for the October Event
That last part does have a bit of a tendency to outweigh anything else, for better or for worse. Like... well, now, for example. He'd meant for it to be a simple trip! Sure, he'd be the first to admit that the plan had hardly been his most sensible right from the very start, but when he'd inquired about a certain location on the map--Caph, a place left distanced from the majority of the Court's other territories--and was waved off by claims that it wasn't worth checking, what else was he meant to do? There hadn't been time to sway anyone else to come with him by the time he'd decided, and it was meant to be a simple trip anyway... Ride out, check for potential signs of survival around the area (he's used to patrolling borders, after all) and then be back in Acubens by the next nightfall.
Looking back now, he thinks as he steps blindly back and nearly stumbles over one of countless bones littering the ground surrounding, it's a damn good thing Felix had been so stubbornly against the idea that he'd decided to come out as well. Without the light of the moon, Sylvain can only just make out the merciless swing of a Spartae's sword as it clangs uselessly against his shield; it feels too heavy as he lifts it, exhaustion clearly written in the effort it takes to return the blow, but the way the creature finally gives way against the silver-tipped lance Felix oh-so-kindly borrowed for him
(thanks for the unknowing donation, Priestess, u da best)provides just enough relief for him to keep going against all odds. He can still hear Felix fighting some distance from him--and that brings a sort of relief with it as well--but how long have they been at this? Hours, surely, as the weariness searing into his muscles and the ache of bruises from blunt blows blossoming beneath his armor seems to suggest they've been at it all night. Too long, he corrects, a laugh caught in his throat like it might be trying to choke him. They've been fighting too long. Even the strongest soldier on the battlefield doesn't stand a chance if he can't bring himself to keep fighting, and if things continue like this......In a moment's respite, he tries to pick out his companion's frame against the seamlessly dark horizon. Although... he doesn't have as much trouble as he expects, actually? Or maybe it just... isn't so dark anymore. Sylvain nearly catches a mace to the shoulder as his tired mind tries to work these details into something concrete, something usable, and it's only once he glances back to his newest assailant and has to blink as his eyes fight to adjust to the change that he catches the faint golden glow rising on the horizon.
Even still, it's not until he fells the creature and finds none near enough to replace it that things slowly start to click into place.
"Felix," he shouts, and he aims for relieved but lands somewhere squarely between startled and panicked as he catches one last Spartae as it retreats past him. "Is... is that it?"
Did they actually survive that, because frankly, he's pretty sure he's tired enough to pass for dead.
sylvain is an idiot, part 1 of ??
...Well. It's something to mull over at a later, safer time; he certainly has no time to do so now, not as he focuses on pushing back wave after wave of Spartae. They're never-ending, apparently. Not particularly difficult to fight, really, but it's the sheer number of them that makes them a threat. Take one down, three more come out of nowhere—but he can't stop. Even as his movements grow sluggish, as his reaction time steadily slows, he draws upon his mounting frustration—not good enough, clearly, not strong enough—and forces himself forward, time and time and time again.
Or: Felix is running on autopilot, which is why, as he disarms a Spartae before neatly sending its skull flying, it takes him a moment to register... two things: that familiar voice calling out to him, and the fact that there are no enemies currently shambling his way. And maybe, just maybe, that has something to do with the faint light creeping over the tops of the surrounding trees? The bit of his brain that's still functioning slowly connects the sun to the hastily retreating enemies, but after hours of fighting, is this... it, or is this a trick...]
Stay vigilant, [he barks back, forcing himself to bring his blade up, to maintain his defensive posture as he watches things scurry into the shadows.] What do you see?
[Because there could be more coming from Sylvain's side of the clearing—but somehow, he doubts it. Didn't the person who gave him these weapons—thank u, Medii quartermaster, u the REAL MVP—tell him something about creatures fearing the sun... maybe... you know, it's hard to keep making these necessary fucking connections???]
Oh are we keeping track? 1/∞ then for sure
"It's..." Give him a second? Really, just the one is fine. The Spartae soldiers nearby have definitely decreased in number, the majority of those remaining making a hasty withdrawal despite their marked advantage up 'til now. He can't see any signs of anything coming to replace them, be it a new group or some secondary beast sent to secure their victory. "...They're leaving."
Which is objectively, like, not a very helpful statement? It doesn't tell Felix where they're going, or whether they should be leaving too--but then again, there are still details to be found in what he leaves unsaid, as well. The creatures aren't luring them into further combat, so the chances of an attempted ambush are slim; there are no archers lining the trees in the distance, nor the familiar sound of warhorses' hooves over the crisp morning snow. For the moment, at least, the two of them seem to be on their way to being well and truly alone after this night from hell itself.
Sylvain turns to Felix again, and this time he does let his arms fall. Or, actually, you know what? He lets his entire self fall, stabbing the point of his lance into the ground as he drops back, one knee propped up for him to sort of lean on while he regathers himself. It's fine! He's like, 99.9% sure there are no other soldiers in reach... and the sky only lightens further the longer they wait.
"They're leaving." With some finality this time, because Felix won't believe him unless he's sure of it, he knows. "Damn... I was starting to think they'd never stop."
sylvain, the point of the promise... is to live, NOT send felix to an early grave
...And while that realization is a welcome one, it's followed by a wave of exhaustion so strong that he almost—almost!—sways in place. It's sheer stubbornness that keeps him upright, but as he takes in a deep breath, testing his (bruised) ribs, the sound of something heavily hitting the earth behind him sends him hurriedly twisting around. But it's just... Sylvain, of course. Stupid, stupid Sylvain, choosing to sit the fuck down instead of, you know, finding their horses and putting as much distance between themselves and this spot as possible. Ill-advised!
But understandable, Felix supposes, even if he is scowling as he sheathes his sword and heads Sylvain's way. He should be furious that Sylvain took such a ridiculous, unnecessary risk. He is furious—and yet, once he's actually standing beside him? Once he gives him a quick once-over and sees no grievous injuries? That fury is tempered, somewhat, by the relief he feels.
Again: somewhat. It's certainly not enough stop him from bracing one (1) disgusting, mud-covered boot against Sylvain's shoulder as he considers how close a call this truly was. Yes, they held their own. Yes, he also thought the enemies would never, ever stop. Yes, he is also grateful to be ALIVE, but hey? Hey. Hey.]
You idiot, [he snaps,making sure to put some heat in those words—and also pointedly ignoring everything Sylvain said. Suffer.] I should run you through myself.
[Glad you're alive, best buddy. Honestly. Please appreciate Felix using the last of his strength to... attempt to push you over.]
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And surely--surely!--Felix feels the same! Which is why Sylvain makes no effort to so much as lift his head when the other man comes up beside him. It's actually only once he feels that blunt pressure against his shoulder, the sound of boot hitting metal not matching up with any reasonable action his tired mind might come up with, that he opens his eyes, glancing over first... and then up...
...Hmm. He's, ah, not expecting that look? Rather, he's not expecting it so SOON, but. Alas... Sylvain can hardly manage a full--
"Wait, Felix--"
--before he does, in fact, go right over into the cold, slushy mud with a(n admittedly exaggerated) yelp as the impact knocks into one or six sore spots. Does he deserve this... yes. Is he aware that he deserves this... ALSO yes! One could even argue he deserves far worse than this, like, half hearted nudge, and YET, amazingly, none of those facts are enough to stop Sylvain from continuing to make terrible decisions and digging this hole he's in ever deeper. Go figure.
Turns out, it's not especially difficult to feign injury, given that he's got plenty of practice being suitably Dramatic under his belt and more than enough bruises forming to choose from. SO... once he hits the ground, he picks the worst of them and plays it up from there: his opposite hand flies to his side, just below his ribcage, a short noise escaping low between gritted teeth. He was already going to just... lay here and accept his fate, so it won't hurt to simply curl against himself, just a bit, as if to stave off the Obviously Excruciating pain as he forces a quiet laugh.
"Come on... we made it through, didn't we?"
Sorry, Felix, but can you really be so MEAN to an obviously-wounded man? He surely sounds hurt, voice artfully strained, even if there doesn't seem to be any sign of outward injury. It could still be worse than it looks! He could be dying!! And then wouldn't Felix feel bad!
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...Yes, that does indeed sound like a Sylvain Move™, which is why Felix's eyes widen the slightest bit as he peers down at him. He's too tired to keep his expression angrily neutral—and too tired to immediately put two and two together, but oh, his brain catches up to this bullshit surprisingly quickly. Enjoy the concerned look for the, like, three (3) seconds it lasts, Sylvain. Really.
Because once Felix determines that the likelihood of Sylvain suffering a grievous injury... is relatively low, that scowl is coming right back in full! Force! This is another example of Sylvain being Sylvain, he thinks, and while that's oddly welcome? While it's good to think that he's well enough to be his typically stupid self?]
"We?" That remains to be seen.
[Aka "I survived, yes, but I meant what I said—I should run you through." And while he's too tired to go for another kick, he will use the tip of his booth to nudge the back of Sylvain's thigh. Not... unkindly, though. Not roughly, because there's still a trace of doubt in his mind. What if...]
Quit fooling around, Sylvain. I'm not in the mood.
[He's TIRED and he's CRANKY and so help him, if this approach doesn't work... if Sylvain really is injured out here, in the middle of fucking nowhere...]
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"Hey, better you do it than some creepy undead guy," he shrugs, dropping the act so he can push himself slowly back up. It's said like a casual sort of thing, as if he isn't discussing this supposed preference on whose sword he'd rather die by, so he doesn't linger on the topic any longer than he needs to sit more comfortably again. "Can you at least save the scolding for later? You're starting to sound like His Highness."
A BOLD STATEMENT coming from someone on thin ice already! The strain has left his voice entirely, leaving just an honest sort of exhaustion and some vague relief left to color it. But regardless, he reaches an arm out to wrap around Felix's legs, aiming specifically to... unsteady him? Like, he's not rude enough to swipe him totally off balance, perhaps, but if he tugs at him just enough... uses pressure at the backs of his knees to make him stumble down to his level... well, surely that much is fair game? Because Sylvain is tired too, and he'll accept whatever lecture is sure to come for him later, but for right now, he just wants to savor the (comparably) peaceful moment.
But it is peaceful?? Like... if you ignore the signs of battle all around them, scattered bones and weapons indenting the downtrodden slush (it's not as if they haven't both seen far worse by way of aftermath, anyway) it's easy to focus on the fact the sky is still melting into the colors of early morning, light scattering blindingly bright spots against the heavy layer of snow still blanketing most of the earth. There's not really any birdsong to fill the silence, but that's what bickering is for? Obviously??
In other words: sit the fuck down, Felix. Sylvain knows you're as dead on your feet as he is.
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And this is perhaps the one (1) person in this world who can get away with both this degree of contact and that unfair comparison, even if Felix wastes no time bending down just far enough to swat that arm away. Hey! He's too sore to deal with this—and far too sore to fall in a heap alongside Sylvain, so let! GO! He'll sit on his own terms!!]
Compare me to the boar again, fool.
[It's muttered lowly enough to practically be a threat, because yeah, Sylvain! See what happens then! But once he is, in fact, free of that grip, he only remains on his feet for a few seconds longer? Long enough to check the state of the sun and ensure that Sylvain has given up on pulling him down to his level; he still has his stubborn pride, you see, but once he's sure that Sylvain isn't about to go for his second attempt... once he's sure that Sylvain isn't seconds away from doing the reasonable thing, i.e. whining at Felix until Felix helps him back to his feet...
...Well. So this is where they're remaining for the time being, huh? Felix has little choice but to (stiffly) drop down beside Sylvain, not even caring that there's only, like, a few inches between them. Water is wet! The sky is blue! Sylvain gets away with more things than other people even dream of getting away with, because Sylvain is, without a doubt, Felix's closest friend. There's little Felix wouldn't do for this absolute moron.
That doesn't, however, save said moron catching an elbow to the ribs as Felix looks up over the tops of these trees, savoring both the silence and the light. And even if it winds up being a more painful thing for Felix, given all that armor... pbbt. It's still worth it, hence his loud HUFF.]
...What were you thinking?
[He has to KNOW!]
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...And then the asshole has to go and elbow him, because they aren't allowed to have anything nice. Despite the effective 'No Damage' that ought to flash overhead, Sylvain gives an exaggerated wince, a quiet protest already at his lips. But... hm. The question gives him pause as he considers the gentle gradient coloring the sky above them. He hums.
"Have you heard anything about this place?" 'This place,' he says, accompanied by a vague nod in the direction of Caph. They're not even close enough to see it, honestly--even if he hadn't listened when told to go elsewhere, he'd at least heeded the locals' warnings about magic, poisonous air, because honestly that just doesn't sound like a fun time for anyone. "Apparently it's been totally abandoned."
Which is the perfect reason to risk life and limb coming to visit, obviously! He honestly hadn't asked about it too much--hadn't had the time to, given the circumstance--but in everyone's rush to get any non-combatants to safety, any inquiries about the supposedly cursed city had been given partial answers at best, or brushed off altogether at worst.
"...No one seemed interested in coming up this far, not even to doublecheck. Guess they figured anyone stupid enough to get stuck out here deserved to get eaten, huh?"
The words are... sickening, in their own right. They taste bitter in his mouth, this entire idea of people being eaten twisting at his stomach as he thinks of families torn apart by one of their own, a loved one turned vicious monster in the dead of night. He wonders what might have brought them to that point... But he laughs without missing a beat, bright and unshaken; he ignores the knot coiled in his stomach in favor of maintaining a carefully neutral smile.
"I guess they were kind of right, after all." Like. Half right. Bummer!! "But if someone had been left here alone, and no one had come to help... well. They would've been a goner for sure."
See, Felix? He knows he was in deep shit!! It doesn't mean he didn't put himself there to begin with, but at least he's self-aware.
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But he'll keep his eyes on those trees while Sylvain continues, allowing this idiot to explain himself even when hearing "it's been totally abandoned" sends Felix pressing his lips into a thin line. Of course Sylvain would come rushing up here to check this region, then. Of course Sylvain would rather risk his life than the lives of, what, a handful of strangers? At best? A stupid, stupid move—and so perfectly Sylvain that it almost makes him sick.
That laugh, however, is ultimately what sends Felix glancing back at Sylvain himself, because while it would sound perfectly natural to anyone else... hmm. Given everything that's been said...]
...You would have deserved it, [he says, implying that, no, no one else would—and that he also gets what Sylvain is going for here, even as he hones back on those very interesting trees.] You're as reckless as ever.
[As IDIOTIC, but here's the truth: if Sylvain is a fool for coming up here, then he's a fool for riding out to meet him. He knows this. He feels this deeply. It's why, after a few seconds of silence, it's his turn to sigh—and while he tries to sound as annoyed as ever, you know what? He's just... tired, for many, many reasons, and the only reason he allows a trace of it to come through is because it's Sylvain he's dealing with.]
But you can't be. Not here.
["Here" as in, like... this world? As a whole?? They're on opposite sides, and while he has no idea how bad any and all future conflicts will be... well. They both know he won't—can't—always be by Sylvain's side.]
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But things turned out... fine-ish, so at least the guilt he feels isn't quite so strong. It's only enough to tighten his expression a bit, rather than make it fall completely; his smile twists into something smaller with Felix's words, teetering right on the very edge of apologetic.
"Yeah," he sighs, "yeah... I know." What is this, twice now that he's been given the 'you can't be such an idiot' speech since they got here? Damn. New record. "I'll try to be more careful."
He can't afford to be too reckless here. Not when he'll be dragging the others down right along with him, and not when there's a chance they'll need his help down the line, either. It's hard to adjust his approach so drastically, and he just knows he's gonna screw it up again later, too. So for now he's just gonna go back to staring at those trees (they're very nice trees, very... treelike...) and fall silent again... It's not like he expects anyone to come to his rescue or anything? He can handle himself! Like. Usually...
It's after a short moment pondering that train of thought that he pipes up again with a quiet:
"...Thanks, by the way." He glances down with a nudge of his own, bumping their arms together much more gently than Felix had. "For coming."
As if it even needs clarification. "For saving my stupid ass," is what he should say, but he's pretty sure Felix can supplement that much himself.
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(Felix appreciates that about him.)
So Sylvain thanking him is... pointless, really. "Thanks for saving my ass!" is a thing that should be said, like, as little as possible, because it's the sort of thing that implies the speaker will try very, very hard to avoid repeating their mistake(s) in the future; Sylvain, however, will make this particular mistake time and time again, and they both know this, and while Felix feels that familiar frustration bubbling back up—hmm. He's here now, you know? Keeping his arm close to Felix's like he thinks Felix will neither notice nor care, and Felix breathes out a short, sharp breath before looking back at him.]
I'm not doing it again, [is what he says, voice stern—and this, too, is something they both know? Something they both know is a patent lie, because Felix will come to Sylvain's aid as many times as he's able. Someone has to make sure that Sylvain doesn't die an unfortunately early death.
But there's knowing something, and there's verbalizing it, so! So. Felix studies his friend's face for a moment longer, taking in that small smile and those familiar brown eyes, before he shifts his gaze back up to the treeline. Look at that sunrise! Bright, beautiful colors... a sight for sore eyes, after a night spent fighting stupid skeletons...
And you know, it's just so distracting that he's just going to? Leave his arm right where it is? Barely brushing against Sylvain's.]
Go back. Before the boar notices you're gone.
[Maybe? Probably. He should have already noticed such a thing, if he's worth anything at all.]
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In any case, Sylvain's eye lingers even after Felix has turned away again. It's really just long enough for him to reminisce a bit (the memories are bittersweet, but he's tired, and he can't bring himself to get lost in some mindless daydream) before he's glancing back out and keeping his mouth decidedly shut as far as Felix's small allowance.
...It's nice, even if it's actually pretty bittersweet, too. He could break the silence by pointing out how beautiful the sunrise is, though given how the brightening sky acts as a signal for their inevitable departure, he's sure the compliment would taste just as empty as any other he might give: honest, perhaps, but strikingly insincere. They've been apart before, and for longer as well... however, with the others around? And the knowledge that he's here, just not with them? It makes his absence that much more obvious. So, y'know... maybe it isn't just aching muscles that keep him from pushing himself to his feet.
And of course, as if on cue, Felix puts voice to the thoughts he'd rather ignore for just a while longer. He expects this from him, and yet...
"I'm sure he's got plenty to keep him busy, without keeping tabs on all of us... me, especially. I mean, it's not like this is the first time I've stayed out all night."
Although it was definitely a contender for the WORST, comparatively speaking.
"You think he'll be upset?" Maybe if they just... don't tell anyone else about the whole 'endless skeleton army' thing...
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...Except that isn't entirely fair, which is why Felix merely frowns up at the sky as he considers how, exactly, Dimitri would react to Sylvain's absence. He's probably off fighting his own fight(s)? With Mercedes and Ashe alongside him, hopefully, but when it comes to Sylvain—well. It's been Felix, Sylvain, and Ingrid for quite some time now. They're supposed to look out for one another, aren't they? They're used to this arrangement, thanks to the five years they spent fighting for Faerghus' future, but with Ingrid missing and the two remaining friends in opposite factions—
Ah. You know what? He's not going to think about that. He's too tired, thanks, so accept this oh-so quiet snort of disdain.]
He'll think coming alone was a stupid thing for you to do. [Maybe. If he has any sense left, that is, but.] For once, I don't disagree.
[And you know it's serious if he, like, openly admits that he'll agree with Dimitri on something. Wild! Take this to heart—especially once Felix bumps his arm back against Sylvain's before adding:]
Stay together.
[A touch quieter than anything he's said before? A touch more... open.]
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But he does take Felix's words to heart. Of course he does--even if there is the faintest glint of humor in his eye as he bites back the, "See, you two are just alike," that he's certain would turn that bump into more of a jab. He's a master at putting his foot in his mouth, but listen?? It's not worth it, right now.
"You're one to talk," he teases, but rather than accusatory, he sounds almost... fond, if perhaps a bit weary, as if he's already resigned himself to the fact that Felix will be Felix, just as Felix has that Sylvain will be Sylvain. Plus, it's not like he's going to hold the whole 'different factions' thing against him--not when he's still confident he'd be with the rest of them in a heartbeat, if it were only that easy. "You came out alone, too."
Mr. LONE WOLF over here...
"Then again, you always were the one who tagged along whenever I did something especially stupid... You'd think we would've learned by now." He can't imagine dragging Dimitri into half of the shit he's done, and he's sure Ashe or Mercedes would be strongly opposed to, like, 98% of his ideas. Felix might be opposed, too, but he's at least willing to see them through most of the time. "But, I can't say I have any other plans to split off from the others, for the time being... You should stick with Marianne, too."
She's reliable!! And sweet!! And if he can't be there, then he'd at least like to know Felix has someone he can rely on, too...