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sylvains
[ faerghus feels like a whole world away when she's back in enbarr. the parties, the nobles, the people - everything was whisked away as soon as she got home and settled into her normal routine. she's starring in two shows the company is putting on, one that's running and one that's still in rehearsals, so most of her day is spent in the theater.
she throws herself back into her work with renewed enthusiasm for focusing on something other than herself. she tells herself it's because the couple days off rejuvenated her, but she knows that's not the case. part of her is glad she has something to put all of her energy towards so that she doesn't keep thinking about what exactly she did at that party in fhirdiad.
not that it was a bad thing. it was good. it was fine. it had no moral significance. it was just a nice time spent with an old friend.
anyway. the point is that she's here, throwing herself into being a senior diva again, ignoring mail and keeping fit and wearing herself out so that she sleeps as soon as she crawls into her quarters by the theater every night. so everything is back to normal, really, and she can almost forget that she ever made a promise to go back to faerghus, because who has the time? not her, certainly not this season.
so it surprises her, one night she steps out for her first aria. she performs to the whole audience, of course, and that means making eye contact with the high-rollers in the boxes. they want to feel like the opera is just for them, and singing a line or two in their direction usually keeps them coming back. halfway through her piece, she turns to the box on the lower stage right, and even past the blinding stagelights, she thinks she recognizes who's there.
she doesn't react at all, because she's a performer before anything else and nothing, not even sylvain gautier showing up at the mittelfrank, will keep her from singing her heart out. but after the performance is done, she'll hang around backstage, throwing a robe on after she removes her costume instead of retiring to the dressing room to pack up and leave.
who knows if he'll come? but judging by the way the other girls are giggling (and come to think of it, they'd been making faces at each other before the show had even started, dorothea should have known something was up), she's not making a fool of herself in expecting him to arrive. ]
You didn't tell me you were coming. [ she'll say when she sees him, in lieu of a greeting. her tone is even, but it isn't angry. just... bemused. ]
she throws herself back into her work with renewed enthusiasm for focusing on something other than herself. she tells herself it's because the couple days off rejuvenated her, but she knows that's not the case. part of her is glad she has something to put all of her energy towards so that she doesn't keep thinking about what exactly she did at that party in fhirdiad.
not that it was a bad thing. it was good. it was fine. it had no moral significance. it was just a nice time spent with an old friend.
anyway. the point is that she's here, throwing herself into being a senior diva again, ignoring mail and keeping fit and wearing herself out so that she sleeps as soon as she crawls into her quarters by the theater every night. so everything is back to normal, really, and she can almost forget that she ever made a promise to go back to faerghus, because who has the time? not her, certainly not this season.
so it surprises her, one night she steps out for her first aria. she performs to the whole audience, of course, and that means making eye contact with the high-rollers in the boxes. they want to feel like the opera is just for them, and singing a line or two in their direction usually keeps them coming back. halfway through her piece, she turns to the box on the lower stage right, and even past the blinding stagelights, she thinks she recognizes who's there.
she doesn't react at all, because she's a performer before anything else and nothing, not even sylvain gautier showing up at the mittelfrank, will keep her from singing her heart out. but after the performance is done, she'll hang around backstage, throwing a robe on after she removes her costume instead of retiring to the dressing room to pack up and leave.
who knows if he'll come? but judging by the way the other girls are giggling (and come to think of it, they'd been making faces at each other before the show had even started, dorothea should have known something was up), she's not making a fool of herself in expecting him to arrive. ]
You didn't tell me you were coming. [ she'll say when she sees him, in lieu of a greeting. her tone is even, but it isn't angry. just... bemused. ]
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when sylvain ask how she's been, it's not easy to find an answer. oh, she knows what she'd tell most people - it's a thrill to be on stage, she's so lucky to still have her job after the war, her parts are delightful, and so on. but it doesn't feel right to go through her regular spiel when sylvain already knows she's more often satisfied than truly happy with where she is.
so she lets out a soft laugh, doesn't bother hiding the weariness that accompanies her answer. ] I've been busy. Sometimes I wish I were worse at singing, or acting. I'd just be more stressed about making a livelihood then, but at least I wouldn't be so in demand.
[ that makes her focus on work sound less self-inflicted, surely. it's not like she's lied - and she's not about to tell him the full truth, that she's been slaving away at her parts and at rehearsing to stop herself from thinking about that night in faerghus constantly. whatever he may want to hear, it's definitely not that. ]
You? Getting in trouble? Now, why would his Majesty think that of you? It's so uncharacteristic. [ she dares a glance up at sylvain, all innocence and bright eyes in her look. ] I thought you'd been behaving yourself now that you've got your fancy title. At least, that's what I gleaned from my visit.
[ sneaking out from a party with stolen food and drink to make out: you may not like it, dima, but this is what peak behaving looks like. ]
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[ there had certainly been reputations attached to students at garreg mach, and sylvain hadn't had a particularly fantastic one in terms of being sensible and diplomatic. he'd like to think that's at least changed a little, but the mischievous side of him was one he'd never shake - he liked it far, far too much. what dimitri didn't know wouldn't hurt him, and even if he found out? he was much too busy to galavant over to gautier territory and slap him on the wrist. sylvain would take his chances.
and dorothea seems to bring that side out of him, he's coming to discover. sylvain certainly hasn't thieved anything from a party since, and maybe part of why he's drawn to her is that she coaxes out the parts of him that he likes instead of having to pretend - be someone he's not, say things he doesn't mean, constantly be guessing their intentions. it's so easy to be here with her, and that's something significant, he's discovered.
it's enough introspection to almost drag him into a reverie, but the street was too loud and busy to do much of any deep thinking - probably for the better, right? sylvain was only on leave in enbarr for a few days before he had to ride back for a faerghus council, so he should probably make the most of his time here. they were out for, what did dorothea mention? food stalls? and he did intend to treat her to something, so as he keeps her arm linked in his, brown eyes stay peeled for what he guesses she might like. ]
So, what are you feeling? Fried? Baked? Both?
[ though he pauses a moment as a stall catches his eye- ]
Elaborate dessert? That sounds like something celebrities would enjoy, right?
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what's hard is figuring out what sylvain expects from her, what sylvain wants from this. whether she's striding ahead confidently or tripping all over her own feet, he doesn't seem to mind. it should make her feel at ease, but it fills her with anxiety instead. she likes to know the whats and whys of every situation she's in, but asking why sylvain likes her, what he's doing here, is a non-starter.
you're overthinking things, manuela would tell her. she hasn't seen manuela since the war ended and she went off to teach goddess-knows-where. somehow, dorothea misses her guidance in this moment more than anything. ]
I don't really like food. [ she wrinkles her nose. ] I mean, it's not as if I hate it. But I don't have many preferences.
I'd hate to be stereotypical, but elaborate dessert sounds fun.
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[ out of habit, he flashes dorothea an easy grin - sylvain can't particularly relate to not liking food, not after being friends with ingrid for any length of time, but he's not here for his stomach; he's here for the company. it's actually not as hard sylvain thought it'd be to cut across the thick crowds in the streets, since for some reason they seemed to almost part in front of them like waves as they moved. dorothea's fame combined with the fact that sylvain wasn't exactly an unknown face after the liberation of enbarr proved to be giving them a certain kind of berth that he's not going to think too far into.
instead, he steers them towards a half-inside, half-outside dessert outfit at the beginning of one of the street's alleyways - it looked like it was just quiet enough and afforded just the right amount of privacy for them to actually talk. truth be told, there were several reasons behind his sudden appearance at the opera, and sylvain would prefer to actually fulfill these without being accosted by the adoring public. hers, not his.
there's a two-seater table under an awning that he brings them to, making a good show of pulling out a seat for her, though it's still a gamble whether he's taking chivalry seriously or making mischief out of it. ]
At least now I can say I make good on my promises. I mean, this isn't dinner, but I'm still taking the win.
[ and when she's seated, he'll sit across the table from her, relaxed and sitting improperly as usual. ]
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Let's get the deluxe special, shall we? [ the most expensive item on the menu, of course - not that it'll be anything much to sylvain, seeing as it's a food stall rather than an actual restaurant. ] And maybe if you let me know next time you arrive, we can grab dinner rather than something so impromptu.
How long are you staying, anyway?
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[ sylvain grins at the slight admonishment - it had, after all, been quite the trip. he wouldn't have managed to sneak into the opera, ingratiate himself with all her co-stars and do important reconnaissance if he'd planned ahead and warned dorothea first. no, sylvain much more enjoys the element of surprise on his side, and it's definitely not because he's mildly concerned about rejection if he'd let her know beforehand. better to take the risk and charge in head-on, just like he lives the rest of his life.
someone pops by to take their order briefly, and he repeats dorothea's request - a deluxe special with two spoons, thanks - before turning back to her and leaning casually forward on the table. here's his undivided attention again, and despite the easy-going air he maintains, sylvain's attention has always been... a bit of an intense thing. ]
A day or two; not long, unfortunately. Someone's gotta make sure that Duke Fraldarius gets his naps, otherwise he gets crotchety and politicking is out of the question.
[ a joke, but more to deflect that he can't stay. ]
Though, I do admit I came here with some ulterior motives before I get found out. Though I'm obviously here for your charming company, I also have a proposition, if you will.
[ it definitely sounds like a flirt, even if it's not. ]
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when his attention turns to her, she can feel it. his gaze is palpable. there's really only one way she's ever learned to deal with being overwhelmed - which is to match the other person at every move, of course. so she doesn't let it fluster her (that is, she doesn't let it show on her face), and she leans forward as well, hands politely folded in her lap like they're at a proper dinner instead of a little stall on the road.
when he admits how short his stay is going to be, she keeps a perfectly even expression on her face, because she won't dare to let the disappointment she feels shine through. no, that's a feeling to lock in a box, shove to the back of her mind, and interrogate later. she hadn't seen sylvain for nearly a year and she'd lived a perfectly fine life. it doesn't make sense for her to be so eager for him to stay now. ]
If you pull out a ring right now, I will smack you. [ for many, many reasons - but she's teasing. mostly. maybe? god, she has to stop letting her mind wander like this. ] What did you come all the way here to ask me?