[Claude glances up to assess Byleth's reaction and whether he has permission to continue, and when he says it doesn't hurt, offers a small, relieved smile, adding a little more pressure and beginning to make a circular motion with his fingers.]
Good. I'm no expert, but I overheard at the infirmary once that this sort of thing can help scar tissue heal better.
[And it does feel like there's a lot of bunched-up tension there, from the way Byleth seems to relax into it, so even without the old injury, this woukd be beneficial. He's grateful, honoured even, to possess such trust.]
You've been through a lot... and no doubt you'll go through a lot more in the times ahead. So knowing when to give yourself a chance to relax is a good thing.
[He's partly chatting to fill the silence, but also partly praising him for stepping up earlier to help people have fun. It's nice to see him want to enjoy himself.]
[Byleth was used to existing beneath a constant level of pressure - it was the norm when you were a mercenary, even as infamous as he and Jeralt had been. The pressure to succeed, the pressure to keep winning, the pressure to remain employed so you could supply your men, maintain your weapons, feed your mounts, the pressure to fight and win and win and win or, on some days, just survive. True, Jeralt visited taverns often, and they skipped the tab and had a few nights where the company got wasted and rowdy... but no one had ever truly relaxed. You couldn't. Mercenaries weren't afforded the luxury.
It was different here, though. Though the pressure remained, it was far more thinly spread yet precisely crushing in different ways. Byleth was given a stipend to feed himself, he didn't have to worry about the elements, and neither did he have to worry about the camp being overrun by wild beasts, bandits or rival mercenaries. He just had to be on guard for when the next Oracle came, or if a new threat emerged from the fog of war. He could now, in the vast amounts of free time given to him, relax.
Problem was, he was bad at it. Inexperienced. It made him feel unproductive or agitated - sometimes surly, thought he was only beginning to realise this. That's how he'd been when he had first arrived here: snappish, uncooperative, and judgemental. When they'd lost the Oracle, and Byleth had been quick to dismiss the others' lamenting - viewing their griping as unproductive. Claude had tried to tell him it served a purpose, an emotional one, but Byleth hadn't really taken it to heart... until much later, when he'd processed that he had been much the same. He'd been hurting and angry, but utterly incapable of recognising it in himself. He felt embarrassed about himself, looking back.]
But, I'm beginning to understand how vital morale is to maintaining a fighting spirit within our faction. I didn't understand before, I was quick to judge and dismiss, but... after some self-reflection, I realised that I was suffering from a lack of morale, and it made me... aimless and dispirited. A dangerous state to be in for a mercenary.
Yeah. You're not just a mercenary, but a person with thoughts and feelings just like any of the rest of us. Even the god among our number isn't above such things.
[Set perhaps even moreso than any human, with how wild and unpredictable the god of war's mood swings can be. Claude pauses in his ministrations to move to Byleth's shoulders next, alternating between squeezing and pressing the muscles there with some force; perhaps he can take some literal weight off them by helping to relax.]
But at least you know now that you have something to work on, instead of running into a figurative wall at a critical time. And now you know you have people to help you, too, even if Jeralt isn't here for you to lean on.
[Byleth was more than aware of the mercurial and emotional nature of gods; what Byleth lacked in expression Sothis made up in spades, able to run the gamut of amused to haughty to irritable in the span of a minute. It was enough to give Byleth whiplash, sometimes.]
Yes. I still find myself missing Jeralt, though. He always understood my moods without needing an expression to work from, and I never had to fear miscommunication, but... it's not so bad, leaning on others, even if it takes a bit of time and work. I was initially unsure with you and Dimitri, because of our differences but, now I'm glad I decided to trust you both. You, especially, Claude. You've been... mn, kind.
[His tone was a little awkward. He really wasn't used to such heart-to-heart talks - he and Jeralt tended to skirt around them. It made him feel curiously exposed, amplified by Claude's proximity and contact, but he valiantly pushed down the squirmy, weird emotions that made him want to grab his cloak and pull it over his head to hide: irrational, pointless. Also it'd force Claude to stop his ministrations, which he really didn't want.]
I hope that you know... I'll also be willing to help you as well. In whatever you need. Be it confirming whether or not you snore or listening to your thoughts as well. Or if you just wish to... talk.
[Even more awkward! But he's trying!! He's trying, Claude!!!! (His face is red, yet still somehow utterly blank...)
I don't know if you want to hear all the thoughts rattling around in my head. If I got started, I'd talk your ear off for hours, and then you really wouldn't get any sleep.
[He's joking, but he'll keep it in mind for the future. Consciously or unconsciously, his desire not to be too familiar with Byleth too quickly has perhaps turned into putting up a wall between them instead. Friendship should be give and take, after all, and Byleth has offered him plenty of trust while Claude has been less forthcoming as a matter of habit.
He tilts his head slightly to look at Byleth -- is he blushing? -- before he decides to resume the massage, tactfully deciding not to point it out. It is cute, though.]
Honestly, I'm glad you showed up. It was tough here, before, not really knowing who I could trust. The other place was even tougher. I might act all tough and adaptable and like all of this comes easily to me, but I'm just keeping it together so other people do the same. It's important to stay level-headed in a long conflict.
I agree, but I hope you're not putting too much pressure on yourself. In my timeline, King Dimitri was notorious for trying to shoulder the burdens of the Kingdom all by himself, and this eventually culminated in irrationality and self-harming behaviours - until his friends intervened, that is.
[Not to say King Dimitri and Claude were identical in how they were acting, but Byleth was keenly aware that Claude was an expert at deflection and pretending everything was fine - perhaps to his detriment. Where King Dimitri was bullheaded in his stupid selflessness, Claude was... sneaky.]
I'd hate to see you walk down the same path, Claude. I understand the need to be the voice of reason within a faction that's dominated by impulsive hotheads, but you shouldn't sacrifice your own wellbeing for it. You're not the leader of Meridian, that responsibility shouldn't be yours. It should be Cyrus's.
[Also, Byleth was of the mind that some people you just had to let them crash and burn before they learned something. The downside was that in this case, them crashing and burning had the risk of dragging them all down with them, annoyingly. This wasn't a mercenary outfit, where you could just kick those troublemakers out, or take them round the back of the tent and beat discipline into them. It was a complicated situation, and Claude was doing admirably to juggle it, but... it shouldn't rest all on him.]
It is his responsibility. But as you can plainly see, sometimes he favours a hands-off approach and leaves everything to us Shardbearers instead. If we don't want everything to fall to infighting every time, someone has to put order to the chaos around us.
[And it's why Claude is here to keep an eye on things, even if he doesn't agree with the nature of the campaign to begin with. Though, while the topic of Dimitri has come up...]
I think you should continue to keep an eye on Dimitri, though, Byleth. He says he's overcome a lot of hardship to get to the place he's at now, but I think... [He's on the verge of saying something, but seems to think better of it.] Nah, I shouldn't say too much. I just think if anyone can support him, you can.
[He gives his shoulders one last squeeze, then lets go.]
[Admittedly, Byleth had been easing the gas on his observation of Dimitri ever since he'd gained his position within Springstar's military. He seemed happy with his new duties, and far too busy to be entertaining Byleth, but if Claude mentioned it, then... well, Byleth will try to set aside some time for him.]
I do. I hadn't realised how tense I'd been before.
[Byleth rolled his shoulders, feeling how much looser they were, and half-turned to give Claude one of his almost smiles.]
Good. [Claude returns the smile.] And I don't have any old injuries like yours, but sure.
[If Byleth wanted him to lean on him more, who is he to say no to a free massage? He removes his tunic, and much like he said, aside from a few old nicks here and there, he really doesn't have any noticeable scars to write home about. Then again, that's not surprising for an archer who tries to position himself as far away from combat as possible. Even the battle with Nemesis had been more about outsmarting him than getting in close to overpower him. He turns, shifting on the bed to offer Byleth an easier angle.]
[Byleth has never massaged anyone in his life, but how hard could it be?
Once Claude was ready, Byleth leaned back to survey the objective. As Claude said, there was no prominent scarring to be wary of, and when Byleth experimentally pressed his fingers into the meat of Claude's shoulders-]
Hard. [Byleth spoke without thinking, and clarified as began to massage Claude's shoulders in earnest:] You're carrying a lot of tension.
[Claude keeps his back turned, trying to stave off the instinctive tension that anything like this presents. It's Byleth, so he'll do it without question, but it still doesn't mean he can relax right away.]
Sorry. [He takes a breath, lowers his shoulders a bit, forcing himself to loosen up a little like he might for his morning meditation.] How's that?
Better, but there's no need to force yourself. I don't mind waiting for your body to adjust to my proximity.
[Byleth was patient. With this in mind, he paused his ministrations and let his palms rest flat against Claude's back, over the shoulder blades. He could feel the muscles shift as they went through the mechanism of breathing, faster than Byleth's body did it - but he noticed that with other people: they always seemed to be set at a pace a few clicks faster than him. In pulse, in breathing, in when they needed to eat or sleep...
Notably, though:]
Hm. I thought you'd be able to feel the heart beat from the back, but it appears not.
[Claude's taken aback, glancing slightly over his shoulder. Right... For someone without a heartbeat at all, noticing it in others must be fascinating. Even if being scrutinised like this makes him feel like a specimen of Professor Hanneman's that he finds particularly interesting.]
You'd feel it easier from the front, on the left side of my chest. You can try it, if you really want?
[Claude turns to face fowards again, looking at the wall of the tent. Occasionally the shadow of someone passes by, or the wind stirs the branches of the trees around the campsite, but otherwise it's quiet. He tries to focus on that, and closes his eyes to relax a little further.]
[Byleth refocused on the objective: Claude's massage.
The tension had only abated fractionally, so Byleth decided to proceed with a gentler touch. He rested his hands on his shoulders and pressed his fingers on either side of Claude's spine, moving them in tight circles to try and relax the knot of tension he found there.
Thankfully, some sliver of tact that he had absorbed in his time here nudged him that doing this in stoic silence would do little to ease Claude, so after a moment, Byleth decided to ask something he'd wondered about for a long while.]
...what's it like? Having a heartbeat? [Byleth's tone was one of innocent curiosity.] Is it distracting with how much it moves?
Most of the time, I can't say that I think about it.
[Claude opens his eyes again, although now that he mentioned not thinking about it, he is thinking about it, about the steady rise and fall of his own chest, how Byleth's touch feels against his skin. It's... nice. Even if he feels like his insides have been twisting themselves in knots since he doesn't know how long, it's something.]
But, there are times when your heartbeat can react to how you feel. Angry, scared, excited, nervous... Sometimes, in those kinds of situations, you can't help but notice how fast your heart is racing.
[He had no frame of reference for it. Even his own pulse was unhurried, with only a slight uptick in pace if he was truly pushing himself - and he had to be actually touching the pulse point to feel that. Frowning in thought, he began to gently knead Claude's shoulders with the heels of his palms.]
Doesn't it ever get tired? It's in constant motion, from what I understand. Even your lungs have moments of rest in between breaths.
[Wait.]
Ah, please tell me if my questions are untoward. I'm aware they're rather strange.
No, it's only natural to be curious about something you haven't experienced. [And kind of endearing, to be honest. Claude finds himself smiling to himself as he mulls over how to answer, and now he's beginning to relax under Byleth's touch in earnest, the tense line of his shoulders seeming to loosen.]
Everyone's breathing slows down when they're asleep, right? Even yours. So I guess that means hearts are similar, and don't have to work as hard when we sleep, too.
[Claude was beginning to loosen up. Excellent. Byleth paused his kneading to slide his hands down lower, pressing his thumbs on either side of Claude's spine again and running them up and down slowly.]
I suppose that makes some sort of sense.
[And thinking on it, Byleth's Crest Stone likely worked constantly too, as his pulse was consistently regular, albeit far slower than a normal human's. Though how exactly it functioned, Byleth had no idea. He knew what a heart looked like, and understood the mechanism behind it: it squeezed and forced the blood out so fast it could rush around the entire body within a second and a bit. A Crest Stone was... well, stone-like. It didn't squeeze. So how did it do it...?
It was a question Byleth likely will never get an answer too - not unless he consented to someone vivisecting him which, well, he wasn't that curious. As always when it came to the inhuman parts of his biology, he simply set the curiosity aside, resigned to ignorance.]
In any case, are you feeling better? There's less tension in your back and shoulders now.
[Claude rolls his shoulders, enjoying the feeling. He's sure a lot of it has nothing to do with the massage at all -- though that undoubtedly helped -- but just talking to Byleth like this. Dropping his guard a little, talking about anything or nothing, indulging Byleth's curiosity about something he probably would have been hesitant to ask most people.
Then he stretches, yawning, as if all that had made him sleepy.]
I think I'm about ready to pass out for the night. How about you?
[Byleth had drawn his hands back, but he was fidgeting slightly. His mind was still latched onto the curiosity that was the heart, and Claude had offered to let him feel it, so he obviously wouldn't mind... but it was getting late, and it could wait until tomorrow, or a later date... but it would only take a short moment, half a minute at most...]
............but before we go to sleep, can I... feel your heartbeat...
[Struck by an idea, Claude rearranges himself to lie on the camp bed, lifting up the covers so Byleth can join him. It's not the most comfortable bed in the world, and it'll be even more cramped with the two of them, but right now he doesn't mind any of that at all.]
[At first Byleth didn't quite understand, still seated on the edge of the bed with his head tilted like a curious puppy. But then it clicked, and his interest rose dramatically. So, not only could a heartbeat be felt, it could be heard too...?]
Very well. Thank you for indulging my curiosity.
[Sharing a bed like this didn't really register as anything strange to him, either. He had cosied up with Jeralt on more than a few occasions when they'd been in Faerghas during their bitter winters, and Byleth's main apprehension was letting a stranger be in close proximity to him. So, he slipped under the covers with Claude without hesitation.
It was cramped - more than, actually - with Byleth forced to lie on his side unless he wanted an arm and leg dangling off the edge. Despite his overwhelming curiosity, he didn't go straight for listening to Claude's heartbeat: he propped himself up on an elbow and very lightly rested his hand on the left side of Claude's chest-
-and lifted it up in surprise when he felt how strong the beat was.]
Oh. [he lowered his hand again, this time not flinching back at feeling the steady, strong beat.] That feels strange... two beats? It's not one single beat like a pulse is.
[Despite trying to play all of this cool, Claude's distracted by Byleth touching his chest, his surprised body language, the way he's so taken aback by something so mundane. Suddenly becoming aware of the feelings of fondness rising up in his chest, Claude can feel his cheeks flush, but hopefully Byleth can't feel emotions as well as a heartbeat through his ribcage. He can't, however, disguise how his tone is a notch gentler when he replies.]
Yeah, it's a bit different, though I can't say I've thought about it as much as you have.
[Or at least, not since he was still a child and learning about the world.]
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Good. I'm no expert, but I overheard at the infirmary once that this sort of thing can help scar tissue heal better.
[And it does feel like there's a lot of bunched-up tension there, from the way Byleth seems to relax into it, so even without the old injury, this woukd be beneficial. He's grateful, honoured even, to possess such trust.]
You've been through a lot... and no doubt you'll go through a lot more in the times ahead. So knowing when to give yourself a chance to relax is a good thing.
[He's partly chatting to fill the silence, but also partly praising him for stepping up earlier to help people have fun. It's nice to see him want to enjoy himself.]
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[Byleth was used to existing beneath a constant level of pressure - it was the norm when you were a mercenary, even as infamous as he and Jeralt had been. The pressure to succeed, the pressure to keep winning, the pressure to remain employed so you could supply your men, maintain your weapons, feed your mounts, the pressure to fight and win and win and win or, on some days, just survive. True, Jeralt visited taverns often, and they skipped the tab and had a few nights where the company got wasted and rowdy... but no one had ever truly relaxed. You couldn't. Mercenaries weren't afforded the luxury.
It was different here, though. Though the pressure remained, it was far more thinly spread yet precisely crushing in different ways. Byleth was given a stipend to feed himself, he didn't have to worry about the elements, and neither did he have to worry about the camp being overrun by wild beasts, bandits or rival mercenaries. He just had to be on guard for when the next Oracle came, or if a new threat emerged from the fog of war. He could now, in the vast amounts of free time given to him, relax.
Problem was, he was bad at it. Inexperienced. It made him feel unproductive or agitated - sometimes surly, thought he was only beginning to realise this. That's how he'd been when he had first arrived here: snappish, uncooperative, and judgemental. When they'd lost the Oracle, and Byleth had been quick to dismiss the others' lamenting - viewing their griping as unproductive. Claude had tried to tell him it served a purpose, an emotional one, but Byleth hadn't really taken it to heart... until much later, when he'd processed that he had been much the same. He'd been hurting and angry, but utterly incapable of recognising it in himself. He felt embarrassed about himself, looking back.]
But, I'm beginning to understand how vital morale is to maintaining a fighting spirit within our faction. I didn't understand before, I was quick to judge and dismiss, but... after some self-reflection, I realised that I was suffering from a lack of morale, and it made me... aimless and dispirited. A dangerous state to be in for a mercenary.
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[Set perhaps even moreso than any human, with how wild and unpredictable the god of war's mood swings can be. Claude pauses in his ministrations to move to Byleth's shoulders next, alternating between squeezing and pressing the muscles there with some force; perhaps he can take some literal weight off them by helping to relax.]
But at least you know now that you have something to work on, instead of running into a figurative wall at a critical time. And now you know you have people to help you, too, even if Jeralt isn't here for you to lean on.
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Yes. I still find myself missing Jeralt, though. He always understood my moods without needing an expression to work from, and I never had to fear miscommunication, but... it's not so bad, leaning on others, even if it takes a bit of time and work. I was initially unsure with you and Dimitri, because of our differences but, now I'm glad I decided to trust you both. You, especially, Claude. You've been... mn, kind.
[His tone was a little awkward. He really wasn't used to such heart-to-heart talks - he and Jeralt tended to skirt around them. It made him feel curiously exposed, amplified by Claude's proximity and contact, but he valiantly pushed down the squirmy, weird emotions that made him want to grab his cloak and pull it over his head to hide: irrational, pointless. Also it'd force Claude to stop his ministrations, which he really didn't want.]
I hope that you know... I'll also be willing to help you as well. In whatever you need. Be it confirming whether or not you snore or listening to your thoughts as well. Or if you just wish to... talk.
[Even more awkward! But he's trying!! He's trying, Claude!!!! (His face is red, yet still somehow utterly blank...)
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[He's joking, but he'll keep it in mind for the future. Consciously or unconsciously, his desire not to be too familiar with Byleth too quickly has perhaps turned into putting up a wall between them instead. Friendship should be give and take, after all, and Byleth has offered him plenty of trust while Claude has been less forthcoming as a matter of habit.
He tilts his head slightly to look at Byleth -- is he blushing? -- before he decides to resume the massage, tactfully deciding not to point it out. It is cute, though.]
Honestly, I'm glad you showed up. It was tough here, before, not really knowing who I could trust. The other place was even tougher. I might act all tough and adaptable and like all of this comes easily to me, but I'm just keeping it together so other people do the same. It's important to stay level-headed in a long conflict.
[And many Meridian... are not that.]
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I agree, but I hope you're not putting too much pressure on yourself. In my timeline, King Dimitri was notorious for trying to shoulder the burdens of the Kingdom all by himself, and this eventually culminated in irrationality and self-harming behaviours - until his friends intervened, that is.
[Not to say King Dimitri and Claude were identical in how they were acting, but Byleth was keenly aware that Claude was an expert at deflection and pretending everything was fine - perhaps to his detriment. Where King Dimitri was bullheaded in his stupid selflessness, Claude was... sneaky.]
I'd hate to see you walk down the same path, Claude. I understand the need to be the voice of reason within a faction that's dominated by impulsive hotheads, but you shouldn't sacrifice your own wellbeing for it. You're not the leader of Meridian, that responsibility shouldn't be yours. It should be Cyrus's.
[Also, Byleth was of the mind that some people you just had to let them crash and burn before they learned something. The downside was that in this case, them crashing and burning had the risk of dragging them all down with them, annoyingly. This wasn't a mercenary outfit, where you could just kick those troublemakers out, or take them round the back of the tent and beat discipline into them. It was a complicated situation, and Claude was doing admirably to juggle it, but... it shouldn't rest all on him.]
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[And it's why Claude is here to keep an eye on things, even if he doesn't agree with the nature of the campaign to begin with. Though, while the topic of Dimitri has come up...]
I think you should continue to keep an eye on Dimitri, though, Byleth. He says he's overcome a lot of hardship to get to the place he's at now, but I think... [He's on the verge of saying something, but seems to think better of it.] Nah, I shouldn't say too much. I just think if anyone can support him, you can.
[He gives his shoulders one last squeeze, then lets go.]
How do you feel? Better?
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I do. I hadn't realised how tense I'd been before.
[Byleth rolled his shoulders, feeling how much looser they were, and half-turned to give Claude one of his almost smiles.]
Thank you. Do you want me to return the favour?
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[If Byleth wanted him to lean on him more, who is he to say no to a free massage? He removes his tunic, and much like he said, aside from a few old nicks here and there, he really doesn't have any noticeable scars to write home about. Then again, that's not surprising for an archer who tries to position himself as far away from combat as possible. Even the battle with Nemesis had been more about outsmarting him than getting in close to overpower him. He turns, shifting on the bed to offer Byleth an easier angle.]
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Once Claude was ready, Byleth leaned back to survey the objective. As Claude said, there was no prominent scarring to be wary of, and when Byleth experimentally pressed his fingers into the meat of Claude's shoulders-]
Hard. [Byleth spoke without thinking, and clarified as began to massage Claude's shoulders in earnest:] You're carrying a lot of tension.
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Sorry. [He takes a breath, lowers his shoulders a bit, forcing himself to loosen up a little like he might for his morning meditation.] How's that?
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[Byleth was patient. With this in mind, he paused his ministrations and let his palms rest flat against Claude's back, over the shoulder blades. He could feel the muscles shift as they went through the mechanism of breathing, faster than Byleth's body did it - but he noticed that with other people: they always seemed to be set at a pace a few clicks faster than him. In pulse, in breathing, in when they needed to eat or sleep...
Notably, though:]
Hm. I thought you'd be able to feel the heart beat from the back, but it appears not.
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[Claude's taken aback, glancing slightly over his shoulder. Right... For someone without a heartbeat at all, noticing it in others must be fascinating. Even if being scrutinised like this makes him feel like a specimen of Professor Hanneman's that he finds particularly interesting.]
You'd feel it easier from the front, on the left side of my chest. You can try it, if you really want?
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Ah, thank you but... I can satisfy my curiosity another time. I'm supposed to be helping you relax, after all.
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[Claude turns to face fowards again, looking at the wall of the tent. Occasionally the shadow of someone passes by, or the wind stirs the branches of the trees around the campsite, but otherwise it's quiet. He tries to focus on that, and closes his eyes to relax a little further.]
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The tension had only abated fractionally, so Byleth decided to proceed with a gentler touch. He rested his hands on his shoulders and pressed his fingers on either side of Claude's spine, moving them in tight circles to try and relax the knot of tension he found there.
Thankfully, some sliver of tact that he had absorbed in his time here nudged him that doing this in stoic silence would do little to ease Claude, so after a moment, Byleth decided to ask something he'd wondered about for a long while.]
...what's it like? Having a heartbeat? [Byleth's tone was one of innocent curiosity.] Is it distracting with how much it moves?
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[Claude opens his eyes again, although now that he mentioned not thinking about it, he is thinking about it, about the steady rise and fall of his own chest, how Byleth's touch feels against his skin. It's... nice. Even if he feels like his insides have been twisting themselves in knots since he doesn't know how long, it's something.]
But, there are times when your heartbeat can react to how you feel. Angry, scared, excited, nervous... Sometimes, in those kinds of situations, you can't help but notice how fast your heart is racing.
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[He had no frame of reference for it. Even his own pulse was unhurried, with only a slight uptick in pace if he was truly pushing himself - and he had to be actually touching the pulse point to feel that. Frowning in thought, he began to gently knead Claude's shoulders with the heels of his palms.]
Doesn't it ever get tired? It's in constant motion, from what I understand. Even your lungs have moments of rest in between breaths.
[Wait.]
Ah, please tell me if my questions are untoward. I'm aware they're rather strange.
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Everyone's breathing slows down when they're asleep, right? Even yours. So I guess that means hearts are similar, and don't have to work as hard when we sleep, too.
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I suppose that makes some sort of sense.
[And thinking on it, Byleth's Crest Stone likely worked constantly too, as his pulse was consistently regular, albeit far slower than a normal human's. Though how exactly it functioned, Byleth had no idea. He knew what a heart looked like, and understood the mechanism behind it: it squeezed and forced the blood out so fast it could rush around the entire body within a second and a bit. A Crest Stone was... well, stone-like. It didn't squeeze. So how did it do it...?
It was a question Byleth likely will never get an answer too - not unless he consented to someone vivisecting him which, well, he wasn't that curious. As always when it came to the inhuman parts of his biology, he simply set the curiosity aside, resigned to ignorance.]
In any case, are you feeling better? There's less tension in your back and shoulders now.
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[Claude rolls his shoulders, enjoying the feeling. He's sure a lot of it has nothing to do with the massage at all -- though that undoubtedly helped -- but just talking to Byleth like this. Dropping his guard a little, talking about anything or nothing, indulging Byleth's curiosity about something he probably would have been hesitant to ask most people.
Then he stretches, yawning, as if all that had made him sleepy.]
I think I'm about ready to pass out for the night. How about you?
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[Byleth had drawn his hands back, but he was fidgeting slightly. His mind was still latched onto the curiosity that was the heart, and Claude had offered to let him feel it, so he obviously wouldn't mind... but it was getting late, and it could wait until tomorrow, or a later date... but it would only take a short moment, half a minute at most...]
............but before we go to sleep, can I... feel your heartbeat...
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[Struck by an idea, Claude rearranges himself to lie on the camp bed, lifting up the covers so Byleth can join him. It's not the most comfortable bed in the world, and it'll be even more cramped with the two of them, but right now he doesn't mind any of that at all.]
This way you can listen to it, too, if you want.
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Very well. Thank you for indulging my curiosity.
[Sharing a bed like this didn't really register as anything strange to him, either. He had cosied up with Jeralt on more than a few occasions when they'd been in Faerghas during their bitter winters, and Byleth's main apprehension was letting a stranger be in close proximity to him. So, he slipped under the covers with Claude without hesitation.
It was cramped - more than, actually - with Byleth forced to lie on his side unless he wanted an arm and leg dangling off the edge. Despite his overwhelming curiosity, he didn't go straight for listening to Claude's heartbeat: he propped himself up on an elbow and very lightly rested his hand on the left side of Claude's chest-
-and lifted it up in surprise when he felt how strong the beat was.]
Oh. [he lowered his hand again, this time not flinching back at feeling the steady, strong beat.] That feels strange... two beats? It's not one single beat like a pulse is.
[It was like, beatbeat, or, beat-beat?]
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Yeah, it's a bit different, though I can't say I've thought about it as much as you have.
[Or at least, not since he was still a child and learning about the world.]
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