He lets her talk, sitting quiet and patient as the painful words spill out. An old wound lanced open once more, to bleed anew. He's always been a good listener, not that many know that. It wasn't something he advertised.
The tale that spills out is horrible in the reality of it, but something he can't even say he's surprised by. The search for a Crest has ruined more than one person's life, brought entire Houses to their knees, and he wishes he could say humanity's capability for cruelty still surprised him, but...
He does wonder, absently, if the test really had been mistaken when she'd been a child, or if there were other forces at work there. More petty jealousies and power struggles. But he doesn't give voice to them - she doesn't need to hear his cynical thoughts on the matter and when it comes down to it, it probably doesn't matter anymore.
But when she bursts into tears once more, he does reach out and wrap an arm around her trembling shoulders, tucking her in against his broad chest. Shifting so he can cradle her close, offer her comfort. His chin rests atop her dark hair as fingers absently soothe up and down her arm.
"It wasn't for nothing." When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet but serious. No hint of joking or taking this lightly. "It could never be nothing. It was a harsh, brutal way for you to grow up, I'm sure - even from what little I know about it. But it shaped who you are, Dorothea. And this... it still doesn't change who that person is. Who you've become, by your own strength. I know that might not be very comforting to hear at the moment, but... It still means something."
There's something soothing about being wrapped up in a pair of strong arms, pulled in against a warm body and held close. The touch against her arm is grounding, and she's finally able to catch her breath, though she doesn't pull away from him as her tears dry up. He smells a little bit like Enbarr Memorial Park on a crisp winter day, away from the bustle of the city and the stink of sweat and refuse in the back alleys.
Surprisingly, his words are actually helpful--what if she had been raised in that house, with a man like that lording himself over her as her guardian? Would she be able to recognize that person, or would that kind of upbringing have stripped her of every shred of kindness and compassion and resourcefulness and determination that the streets had taught her? Would it actually have saved her mother, or would Rosalind Arnault have been cast aside regardless, doomed to die in what should have been the prime of her life? Would it have been worth it?
"... That actually does make me feel a little better," she says, exhaling softly and taking in another breath of his winter woodland scent. "Thanks, Sylvain." That doesn't mean she pulls away from him, though. No no, she stays close like this for a few more moments.
He doesn't mind that she doesn't pull away. She just had her entire world flipped on its head and there's nothing he can do to ease the sting of that. Of all the 'what ifs?' she probably has spiraling through her mind right now. Those are the worst, he knows that part firsthand.
So he just does what he can, even if that's just sitting here and giving her a shoulder to cry on for a while. Which he doesn't think is all that much, actually, but it's all he can think to offer. Maybe it will be enough.
He feels that shuddering exhale, giving her a light squeeze in response. "You're welcome. Sometimes... It helps to remember that. Rather than focusing on the parts that feel pointless."
"When did you get so wise?" she asks, returning the little squeeze and finally sitting up again. Without really thinking about it too much, she leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek, then sits back and begins trying to mop up her face.
She's not all right by any definition of the word, but she's as resilient as they come. She'll get through this one way or another, one day at a time.
"How do I look?" The diplomatic answer would be 'Lovely as always,' but the truth is that it's easy to see Dorothea had been crying. Her eyes and nose are red, her cheeks still left with the remnants of a few streaks of her ruined makeup. "I should probably go back to my room and clean up before dinner. Would... would you mind just walking with me?"
When she pulls back and starts trying to put herself together again, his hand automatically goes to the inside of his jacket to tug out a clean handkerchief and offer it to her with a sheepish smile.
"Oh, I'm not. But it's something I've had to remind myself more times than I can count, so I figured it couldn't hurt."
And, oh, that's a loaded question, isn't it? Nothing good ever comes from answering that in anything but the positive, he's learned the hard way. Luckily he doesn't even have to lie, really.
"Like you've been crying, but luckily for you - and probably to the bitter envy of every female ever - you still manage to do that beautifully, too." He casts her a playful wink before rising to his feet once more and gallantly offering her his arm in invitation. "I wouldn't mind at all. Especially because that means I don't have to go back and be peppered by a slew of questions by Hanneman. So thanks for saving me from that."
Using his handkerchief, she hastily dabs at her cheeks and laughs at both his honesty and his flattery.
"You're ridiculous," she says, standing and looping her arm through his. "But I appreciate it. Really, Sylvain, you saved me from completely spiraling." And maybe she's imagining it, but she feels so at-ease with him now as they cross the bridge over the ravine that separates the cathedral from the rest of the monastery grounds. It's like something fundamental shifted between them, but maybe that's just the fact that her whole life now has to be recontextualized and it's going to take a lot of processing and self-reflection to figure out how she wants to proceed.
Finally they reach the dormitories. Dorothea's is on the first floor, naturally (which she has always found to be a ironically hilarious inconsistency when you consider how the staff goes on about all students being treated equally here), and when they reach the threshold, she opens the door and steps inside.
"You can... come in and have a seat if you want. I'll only be a few minutes."
He gives her a cheeky grin and another wink as he escorts her back to the dormitories, heading unerringly for where he knows her room is. Although he hesitates when they reach her door, because he'd fully expected to be thanked and dismissed. Or, at best, to wait in the courtyard or something.
The invitation in, however... that had his eyebrows arching upwards in surprise as he glances from her to the open door and her room beyond.
"Are you sure about that? That's usually how terribly scandalous rumors get started, you realize."
"And... I don't know. Stay ridiculous. It's charming." Maybe she shouldn't tell him that anything he does is charming, but she's feeling inclined to favor him after he comforted her. For all she knows, this could just be another mask that he wears, but as the former diva of the Mittelfrank, Dorothea thinks she has a pretty firm grasp on when someone is bullshitting her or not. Maybe he doesn't deserve to be praised just for being sincere for once, but she doesn't care.
From the inside of her open door, Dorothea nods her head.
"I'm sure, Sylvain. I'd rather a scandalous rumor about the two of us than about the other thing I learned today. Besides, people will think what they want anyway. Come on, sit down. It's fine."
Once he's inside, Dorothea closes the door and takes her hat off, setting it on the nightstand by her bed and sitting at her desk in front of a gold-rimmed mirror. If he takes a moment to look around, he'll see that her room is immaculately clean, everything organized and in its place. Fresh flowers in a tall vase sit on the shelves by the window, filling the room with a pleasant fragrance.
"Sorry I don't have another chair. You can sit on the bed." He's already inside so where he sits or doesn't hardly matters. She produces a little cosmetics kit from her drawer and begins to clean her face, glancing occasionally at Sylvain in the mirror.
"So... thanks again for today. You won't tell anyone, will you? If people found out it would be just one more thing they would want from me and I don't think I could handle that."
He hears he's charming a lot, actually, but he doesn't typically take many words to heart - compliments or insults - because he doesn't believe most of them anyway. And honestly, trying to figure out who is lying or not is exhausting. And disheartening. So he takes most words with a grain of salt out of habit. But coming from her, it still makes him smile faintly as he steps into her room and glances around, sliding the door shut behind him.
Her offer to sit ends up with him perching on the edge of her bed, inhaling her faintly familiar scent, which he'd know anywhere, but he's surrounded by it here. Her room is fairly simple and neat, which has him relaxing slightly, and he's still glancing around taking in everything when she thanks him again, drawing amber eyes back in her direction.
Leaning back on his hands and stretching his legs out in front of him in a casual slouch, he eyes her reflection in the mirror thoughtfully.
"I wasn't planning on it. But I think I'm the wrong person to be asking here. Hanneman knows. And Manuela. This is going to mean a change in your curriculum, for one. And you didn't ask either of them to keep this hushed. I don't think this is going to be able to be kept a secret for long. If it even still is one."
Dorothea's hand freezes mid-swipe, the last remnants of her makeup cleaned away, and she turns to look at him without even a dab of the makeup she's normally so careful to apply. Only a handful of people have seen her without it since she joined the opera when she was ten years old, and the fact that Sylvain now counts among their number implies a certain level of trust, or familiarity.
"Shit," she says. "I didn't even think about it when I ran out. All I could think of was... my mother." Manuela would know better than to tell. She'd been Dorothea's friend and mentor for the better part of a decade, and she would understand the reason for Dorothea's hasty retreat better than anyone, but...
"Hanneman. He'll put it in my student file and then anyone in the faculty or staff will be able to see it. No... Manuela will cover for me." Regardless, that isn't something she's willing to leave to chance. Abandoning her makeup kit, Dorothea is on her feet again, not even pausing to pick up her hat on her way to the door.
The fact that he's closer to the door than she is is probably the only reason he stops her before she can get out the door and start running again. His expression holds a slight frown, because he's already trying to spin his way through possible scenarios here and what might be better... or worse.
With her exit blocked, Dorothea has no choice but to look up at Sylvain as he questions her. It does nothing to settle her unease, the tension in her body coiling like a spring. Her feet shuffle, restless, but she doesn't try to push him aside. He's bigger than her, stronger than her; he can keep her from leaving if he wants.
"It isn't a game. I don't want to play at all," she says, and a casual observer might find that a strange statement for her to make when everyone on campus knows that she came here to try and find a spouse. "People have been treating me like a piece of meat since I was thirteen. If they find out I have a crest, it'll only get worse--the assaults, the... the kidnapping attempts. What will they try now to force my hand? To punish me for rejecting them?"
Sylvain will understand what it feels like to be desired; he's spent his life constantly being reminded of the fact that his crest means people will want him for insincere reasons: his crest, his money, his status. What might not have occurred to him is just how much that money and that status have protected him over the years. Dorothea has neither, and men were already willing to kill to have her--to kill her if they could not have her. What lengths would they go to now if it's discovered that she has a crest, too?
He hadn't known about half those things, actually, although he's unfortunately unsurprised at the length some people will go to, to acquire what they want. Wasn't he proof of that himself? Not to mention everything that had been directed all his life from people who wanted him for their own means. Everything from greed to envy to outright homicidal hatred.
She's right that her having a Crest might exacerbate things - he wouldn't be surprised if it did, in fact. But whatever she might think, this is a game he knows how to navigate blind, and she already has a leg up, because there's no one who would make her choices for her. Not unless that asshole sire of hers tries to step in now, too many years too late.
"You don't have to see it as a game, but like it or not, you are a player in this now. Use whatever metaphor you want to help make this make sense for you. It could get worse, if they find out you have a Crest. Or, if you're careful, it can give you all the power instead. Make you untouchable. I'm not going to lie and say this is something I would wish for anyone, but there is power in the position you now find yourself in. You're not a piece of meat anymore, not if you don't want to be. You can call your own shots now, and you can get away with it in a way you probably never could before."
Dorothea goes still, looking up at Sylvain like she's never seen him before. This isn't the goofy slacker who loves nothing more than flirting with girls--this is the real him, or something closer to it. He's smarter than he likes to let on, born and bred to be a military leader that can lead and inspire legions of troops, to be a lord whose decisions will affect an entire territory, even the entire Kingdom.
She takes a slow breath in, holds it, and exhales just as slowly.
"Okay. Okay. Yeah, you're right." She can admit that; she was spiraling and he managed to reel her back in. "I'll admit that I don't really know what the right move is here, though. All my life I've been on the defensive. I'm working with a new set of rules now, and..."
Going quiet for a moment, Dorothea lets a few scenarios play out in her mind. She could try to keep her crest a secret, whispering the information into the right ears at the right time, but secrets didn't stay secret for long. She could wait until an opportune moment to reveal it, but who knew what that moment could be or when it might present itself? Or, she could simply announce it to get ahead of any rumors that might form behind her back, outside of her control.
"Getting ahead of it would probably be best, don't you think? That way, I can control the narrative to my advantage. The only problem is... Well. My father." She cringes visibly. "When the truth gets out that I have the crest he wanted so badly, he's going to try to insert himself into my life and use it to his advantage however he can."
Now she looks away from Sylvain, averting her eyes as those old feelings of revulsion and shame crawl their way back into her heart.
"I blackmailed him. Three years ago, he approached me after a performance. He must have been drunk. I'll spare you the details, but he... he tried to..." Dorothea's arms come up around her own body, an unconscious self-soothing motion. Why is she telling this to him? He doesn't need to know this! Except he kind of does, if he's going to help her.
Not that he's agreed to that, or even offered.
Shit.
"Will you help me?" she asks, abruptly backtracking. "I don't know how to navigate this, but you do. I don't even know if you actually like me that much or if you're just humoring me right now out of pity, but there isn't really anyone else I can turn to for help."
The mention of what her father had tried to do... she doesn't give details, but she gives him enough that he can fill in the blanks. For a moment, rage sparks in his deep gaze, but he buries it quickly, because she probably doesn't need that right now.
What he does do, however, is reach out to wrap his arms warmly about her shoulders and draw her in against his broad chest. Sheltering her there for a moment as he rests his chin atop her head.
"Of course I'll help you. And no, I'm not humoring you out of pity, but even if I was, I'd still offer to help." His fingers lightly tug at a dark curl as he thinks over what other information he can give her. "I always think getting ahead of a problem is the smartest move. Controlling the narrative before it gets out can make your job infinitely easier, in the long run. Although I may just be a bit of a control freak, so take that as you will."
Not something he's typically known for, actually, at least not outside of certain circles that openly discuss such things in much different context, at least. But he doesn't mind confessing it here and now, because what he knows might be useful to her. And navigating this mess? She may need every trick he knows.
"I can take you to talk to Hanneman and figure out how to reveal this, if that's what you want to do. But there's one more person I'd suggest talking to. Although I don't know how well you know him. You should speak to Yuri."
If anyone could help her keep an eye on those who would come at her with the darkest of intentions, it would be those in the Abyss. And Yuri would likely see it coming miles away. It's partially how Sylvain had ended up relying on him so heavily for certain things.
"But for navigating the rest of it? You have my aid in whatever way you wish it."
Sylvain's arms wrap around her and Dorothea is really too surprised to pull back or protest. She's made herself terrifyingly vulnerable to him, and he chose not to mock or scorn her in any way, but to hold her in his arms as if he could protect her from the horrors of her past, or the pitfalls of her current dilemma. It's... oddly comforting, which is a thought she never would have previously associated with him, but here they are.
Her arms tentatively slide around his waist as he agrees to help her, feeling more relieved than she can really explain to have an ally in her corner for what is surely going to be a trying time for her. It almost makes her want to kiss him, but she refrains. She's not thinking clearly right now.
"Oh. That's... really a good idea. I'll reach out to Yurikins today, but we should definitely talk to Hanneman before he gets too far ahead of himself. I don't think he'll just go around telling everyone, but..." She sighs, leaning back a little to look up at Sylvain, her green eyes meeting his amber.
"Thank you. For being my friend and my ally. I can't express how much it means to me to have your support. For so long, I had to deal with all my problems on my own--there was no one I could rely on. It feels good having someone in my corner."
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no subject
The tale that spills out is horrible in the reality of it, but something he can't even say he's surprised by. The search for a Crest has ruined more than one person's life, brought entire Houses to their knees, and he wishes he could say humanity's capability for cruelty still surprised him, but...
He does wonder, absently, if the test really had been mistaken when she'd been a child, or if there were other forces at work there. More petty jealousies and power struggles. But he doesn't give voice to them - she doesn't need to hear his cynical thoughts on the matter and when it comes down to it, it probably doesn't matter anymore.
But when she bursts into tears once more, he does reach out and wrap an arm around her trembling shoulders, tucking her in against his broad chest. Shifting so he can cradle her close, offer her comfort. His chin rests atop her dark hair as fingers absently soothe up and down her arm.
"It wasn't for nothing." When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet but serious. No hint of joking or taking this lightly. "It could never be nothing. It was a harsh, brutal way for you to grow up, I'm sure - even from what little I know about it. But it shaped who you are, Dorothea. And this... it still doesn't change who that person is. Who you've become, by your own strength. I know that might not be very comforting to hear at the moment, but... It still means something."
no subject
Surprisingly, his words are actually helpful--what if she had been raised in that house, with a man like that lording himself over her as her guardian? Would she be able to recognize that person, or would that kind of upbringing have stripped her of every shred of kindness and compassion and resourcefulness and determination that the streets had taught her? Would it actually have saved her mother, or would Rosalind Arnault have been cast aside regardless, doomed to die in what should have been the prime of her life? Would it have been worth it?
"... That actually does make me feel a little better," she says, exhaling softly and taking in another breath of his winter woodland scent. "Thanks, Sylvain." That doesn't mean she pulls away from him, though. No no, she stays close like this for a few more moments.
no subject
So he just does what he can, even if that's just sitting here and giving her a shoulder to cry on for a while. Which he doesn't think is all that much, actually, but it's all he can think to offer. Maybe it will be enough.
He feels that shuddering exhale, giving her a light squeeze in response. "You're welcome. Sometimes... It helps to remember that. Rather than focusing on the parts that feel pointless."
no subject
She's not all right by any definition of the word, but she's as resilient as they come. She'll get through this one way or another, one day at a time.
"How do I look?" The diplomatic answer would be 'Lovely as always,' but the truth is that it's easy to see Dorothea had been crying. Her eyes and nose are red, her cheeks still left with the remnants of a few streaks of her ruined makeup. "I should probably go back to my room and clean up before dinner. Would... would you mind just walking with me?"
no subject
"Oh, I'm not. But it's something I've had to remind myself more times than I can count, so I figured it couldn't hurt."
And, oh, that's a loaded question, isn't it? Nothing good ever comes from answering that in anything but the positive, he's learned the hard way. Luckily he doesn't even have to lie, really.
"Like you've been crying, but luckily for you - and probably to the bitter envy of every female ever - you still manage to do that beautifully, too." He casts her a playful wink before rising to his feet once more and gallantly offering her his arm in invitation. "I wouldn't mind at all. Especially because that means I don't have to go back and be peppered by a slew of questions by Hanneman. So thanks for saving me from that."
no subject
"You're ridiculous," she says, standing and looping her arm through his. "But I appreciate it. Really, Sylvain, you saved me from completely spiraling." And maybe she's imagining it, but she feels so at-ease with him now as they cross the bridge over the ravine that separates the cathedral from the rest of the monastery grounds. It's like something fundamental shifted between them, but maybe that's just the fact that her whole life now has to be recontextualized and it's going to take a lot of processing and self-reflection to figure out how she wants to proceed.
Finally they reach the dormitories. Dorothea's is on the first floor, naturally (which she has always found to be a ironically hilarious inconsistency when you consider how the staff goes on about all students being treated equally here), and when they reach the threshold, she opens the door and steps inside.
"You can... come in and have a seat if you want. I'll only be a few minutes."
no subject
He gives her a cheeky grin and another wink as he escorts her back to the dormitories, heading unerringly for where he knows her room is. Although he hesitates when they reach her door, because he'd fully expected to be thanked and dismissed. Or, at best, to wait in the courtyard or something.
The invitation in, however... that had his eyebrows arching upwards in surprise as he glances from her to the open door and her room beyond.
"Are you sure about that? That's usually how terribly scandalous rumors get started, you realize."
no subject
From the inside of her open door, Dorothea nods her head.
"I'm sure, Sylvain. I'd rather a scandalous rumor about the two of us than about the other thing I learned today. Besides, people will think what they want anyway. Come on, sit down. It's fine."
Once he's inside, Dorothea closes the door and takes her hat off, setting it on the nightstand by her bed and sitting at her desk in front of a gold-rimmed mirror. If he takes a moment to look around, he'll see that her room is immaculately clean, everything organized and in its place. Fresh flowers in a tall vase sit on the shelves by the window, filling the room with a pleasant fragrance.
"Sorry I don't have another chair. You can sit on the bed." He's already inside so where he sits or doesn't hardly matters. She produces a little cosmetics kit from her drawer and begins to clean her face, glancing occasionally at Sylvain in the mirror.
"So... thanks again for today. You won't tell anyone, will you? If people found out it would be just one more thing they would want from me and I don't think I could handle that."
no subject
Her offer to sit ends up with him perching on the edge of her bed, inhaling her faintly familiar scent, which he'd know anywhere, but he's surrounded by it here. Her room is fairly simple and neat, which has him relaxing slightly, and he's still glancing around taking in everything when she thanks him again, drawing amber eyes back in her direction.
Leaning back on his hands and stretching his legs out in front of him in a casual slouch, he eyes her reflection in the mirror thoughtfully.
"I wasn't planning on it. But I think I'm the wrong person to be asking here. Hanneman knows. And Manuela. This is going to mean a change in your curriculum, for one. And you didn't ask either of them to keep this hushed. I don't think this is going to be able to be kept a secret for long. If it even still is one."
no subject
"Shit," she says. "I didn't even think about it when I ran out. All I could think of was... my mother." Manuela would know better than to tell. She'd been Dorothea's friend and mentor for the better part of a decade, and she would understand the reason for Dorothea's hasty retreat better than anyone, but...
"Hanneman. He'll put it in my student file and then anyone in the faculty or staff will be able to see it. No... Manuela will cover for me." Regardless, that isn't something she's willing to leave to chance. Abandoning her makeup kit, Dorothea is on her feet again, not even pausing to pick up her hat on her way to the door.
no subject
The fact that he's closer to the door than she is is probably the only reason he stops her before she can get out the door and start running again. His expression holds a slight frown, because he's already trying to spin his way through possible scenarios here and what might be better... or worse.
"Are you sure that's how you want to play this?"
no subject
"It isn't a game. I don't want to play at all," she says, and a casual observer might find that a strange statement for her to make when everyone on campus knows that she came here to try and find a spouse. "People have been treating me like a piece of meat since I was thirteen. If they find out I have a crest, it'll only get worse--the assaults, the... the kidnapping attempts. What will they try now to force my hand? To punish me for rejecting them?"
Sylvain will understand what it feels like to be desired; he's spent his life constantly being reminded of the fact that his crest means people will want him for insincere reasons: his crest, his money, his status. What might not have occurred to him is just how much that money and that status have protected him over the years. Dorothea has neither, and men were already willing to kill to have her--to kill her if they could not have her. What lengths would they go to now if it's discovered that she has a crest, too?
no subject
She's right that her having a Crest might exacerbate things - he wouldn't be surprised if it did, in fact. But whatever she might think, this is a game he knows how to navigate blind, and she already has a leg up, because there's no one who would make her choices for her. Not unless that asshole sire of hers tries to step in now, too many years too late.
"You don't have to see it as a game, but like it or not, you are a player in this now. Use whatever metaphor you want to help make this make sense for you. It could get worse, if they find out you have a Crest. Or, if you're careful, it can give you all the power instead. Make you untouchable. I'm not going to lie and say this is something I would wish for anyone, but there is power in the position you now find yourself in. You're not a piece of meat anymore, not if you don't want to be. You can call your own shots now, and you can get away with it in a way you probably never could before."
no subject
She takes a slow breath in, holds it, and exhales just as slowly.
"Okay. Okay. Yeah, you're right." She can admit that; she was spiraling and he managed to reel her back in. "I'll admit that I don't really know what the right move is here, though. All my life I've been on the defensive. I'm working with a new set of rules now, and..."
Going quiet for a moment, Dorothea lets a few scenarios play out in her mind. She could try to keep her crest a secret, whispering the information into the right ears at the right time, but secrets didn't stay secret for long. She could wait until an opportune moment to reveal it, but who knew what that moment could be or when it might present itself? Or, she could simply announce it to get ahead of any rumors that might form behind her back, outside of her control.
"Getting ahead of it would probably be best, don't you think? That way, I can control the narrative to my advantage. The only problem is... Well. My father." She cringes visibly. "When the truth gets out that I have the crest he wanted so badly, he's going to try to insert himself into my life and use it to his advantage however he can."
Now she looks away from Sylvain, averting her eyes as those old feelings of revulsion and shame crawl their way back into her heart.
"I blackmailed him. Three years ago, he approached me after a performance. He must have been drunk. I'll spare you the details, but he... he tried to..." Dorothea's arms come up around her own body, an unconscious self-soothing motion. Why is she telling this to him? He doesn't need to know this! Except he kind of does, if he's going to help her.
Not that he's agreed to that, or even offered.
Shit.
"Will you help me?" she asks, abruptly backtracking. "I don't know how to navigate this, but you do. I don't even know if you actually like me that much or if you're just humoring me right now out of pity, but there isn't really anyone else I can turn to for help."
no subject
What he does do, however, is reach out to wrap his arms warmly about her shoulders and draw her in against his broad chest. Sheltering her there for a moment as he rests his chin atop her head.
"Of course I'll help you. And no, I'm not humoring you out of pity, but even if I was, I'd still offer to help." His fingers lightly tug at a dark curl as he thinks over what other information he can give her. "I always think getting ahead of a problem is the smartest move. Controlling the narrative before it gets out can make your job infinitely easier, in the long run. Although I may just be a bit of a control freak, so take that as you will."
Not something he's typically known for, actually, at least not outside of certain circles that openly discuss such things in much different context, at least. But he doesn't mind confessing it here and now, because what he knows might be useful to her. And navigating this mess? She may need every trick he knows.
"I can take you to talk to Hanneman and figure out how to reveal this, if that's what you want to do. But there's one more person I'd suggest talking to. Although I don't know how well you know him. You should speak to Yuri."
If anyone could help her keep an eye on those who would come at her with the darkest of intentions, it would be those in the Abyss. And Yuri would likely see it coming miles away. It's partially how Sylvain had ended up relying on him so heavily for certain things.
"But for navigating the rest of it? You have my aid in whatever way you wish it."
no subject
Her arms tentatively slide around his waist as he agrees to help her, feeling more relieved than she can really explain to have an ally in her corner for what is surely going to be a trying time for her. It almost makes her want to kiss him, but she refrains. She's not thinking clearly right now.
"Oh. That's... really a good idea. I'll reach out to Yurikins today, but we should definitely talk to Hanneman before he gets too far ahead of himself. I don't think he'll just go around telling everyone, but..." She sighs, leaning back a little to look up at Sylvain, her green eyes meeting his amber.
"Thank you. For being my friend and my ally. I can't express how much it means to me to have your support. For so long, I had to deal with all my problems on my own--there was no one I could rely on. It feels good having someone in my corner."