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darkseal
[Truthfully speaking, this Ball was nothing more than a glorified dance class in Linhardt's mind. They were practically obligated to attend and partake, dancing with people and exchanging smiles and pleasantries; a ball like this was at least somewhat important to the nobility, Linhardt was sure, but as far as he was concerned? He had no business here, and the first chance he could get out, he took gladly.
He wasn't altogether sure about where to go, honestly; he could certainly just turn in for the night on his bed, or get back to his crest research, but there was another curiosity that he wanted to take a look at; the Goddess Tower. The details were a little fuzzy in Linhardt's mind, but he had heard some so-called rumors about what happened within the tower. Something interesting would happen if two people entered the tower...was it that they would be blessed by the Goddess if they shared a vow, or that they would be cursed for defiling her tower? Linhardt couldn't really recall off the top of his head, as it wasn't a topic that interested him too much, but...well, it was an interesting research opportunity and there was certainly a first time for everything.
But of course, he knew very well he wasn't exactly destined for much in the love department. As far as he was concerned, the Goddess Tower would be a once in a lifetime napping spot, and Linhardt intended to take the bait. It was surprisingly quiet, though he didn't doubt that there were people waiting to come in and try to find their 'true love', as they would likely call it. Linhardt finds his way to a nice spot within the tower, settling himself in for what's likely to be an interesting sleep, if nothing else.
Who knows, maybe he'll get to eavesdrop on some unlucky sap within the tower before he nods off, or perhaps even hear someone find the love of their life. The latter would certainly be a nice thought, for one of the others, perhaps. That would at least be interesting to hear...]
He wasn't altogether sure about where to go, honestly; he could certainly just turn in for the night on his bed, or get back to his crest research, but there was another curiosity that he wanted to take a look at; the Goddess Tower. The details were a little fuzzy in Linhardt's mind, but he had heard some so-called rumors about what happened within the tower. Something interesting would happen if two people entered the tower...was it that they would be blessed by the Goddess if they shared a vow, or that they would be cursed for defiling her tower? Linhardt couldn't really recall off the top of his head, as it wasn't a topic that interested him too much, but...well, it was an interesting research opportunity and there was certainly a first time for everything.
But of course, he knew very well he wasn't exactly destined for much in the love department. As far as he was concerned, the Goddess Tower would be a once in a lifetime napping spot, and Linhardt intended to take the bait. It was surprisingly quiet, though he didn't doubt that there were people waiting to come in and try to find their 'true love', as they would likely call it. Linhardt finds his way to a nice spot within the tower, settling himself in for what's likely to be an interesting sleep, if nothing else.
Who knows, maybe he'll get to eavesdrop on some unlucky sap within the tower before he nods off, or perhaps even hear someone find the love of their life. The latter would certainly be a nice thought, for one of the others, perhaps. That would at least be interesting to hear...]
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[He shows off her outfit a bit--it's a bit of a simple one, but it was clearly made with a lot of care. The fabric of the dress shimmers a bit too when it catches light, and the stitchwork on both items of clothing is actually pretty professional looking. Even the button that keeps the cloak tied seems to be made with some sort of dark gemstone that catches the light nicely.]
I'd say her outfit is my mother's magnum opus. She's always been very deft with delicate work like this, and when I was younger, she made clothing for many of my stuffed animals. [He chuckles a bit.] I do admit, she gave me a rather odd look when I asked if she would make me something again, so shortly after I had gotten done earning my family's support...but she really outdid herself.
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I'm pleased to see it. It looks magnificent.
[...Linhardt's mother went out of her way to do something like that for him, huh?]
What is your family like, Linhardt? I must admit I don't know much about House Hevring.
[Well, okay, he knows the things he needs to know for a man in his position, but he doesn't know anything about them personally. A mother willing to make her son something so delicate and detailed for a stuffed bear is... sort of strange to imagine, in all honesty. He's curious about it.]
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Well, my father is a man who's well suited to his position as the head of the Ministry of the Interior; he's a rather detail oriented person, but I do admit that I get a lot of my personality from him. He's always been so incredibly laid back when he isn't on business...well, at least with anything that doesn't have to do with House Bergliez. Nor the Minister of Military Affairs...I suppose where we differ most is that he has enough pride for the both of us, which can prove utterly bothersome when he decides to butt heads with someone...
Still, he isn't a bad man by any means. Perhaps a touch distant due to his work, but he's never once treated me unkindly. I simply wish that he'd apply that to certain others, but...I digress.
Now, mother...my sweet mother. [Linhardt almost sounds exasperated when he talks about her, but it's incredibly fond.] She's the one who took up Father's slack in attempting to instill some values and motivations into me. She's rather overbearing, asking questions about what I've eaten, how well I've been sleeping, how my studies are going...really, she doesn't let up with them. It can be infuriating from time to time, when she tries to find me and wake me up from my perfectly good naps and the like, but she only does so, so that I might lead what she calls an 'enriching life'.
[He winds up smiling a bit softer, though, bringing Nyx a little closer.]
Even so, she is rather supportive of my hobbies and interests, as well as what I like. If I got good marks on my studies, she'd made rather delightful pastries as my reward. She also got me stuffed animals whenever we went into town; she'd let me pick out one to add for my collection whenever we had the chance to go, and she'd make the most delightful little outfits for them. I've saved every one of them, in fact; they're in a little bureau in my room back at the estate. She's gone out of her way for me when she's able to, at times...and she's dragged me about in order to make sure I was doing something other than nap when I didn't want her, at others.
I may think that they can be rather overbearing, or perhaps too prideful at times, but...I would not trade them for anything in the world.
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...It feels sort of weird to hear Linhardt speak about them in such a gentle manner.]
You're very lucky to have such supportive parents - though I suppose they're lucky to have a son like you.
[It's said so easily, the compliment given with no hesitation.]
It sounds as though you were raised in a very supportive and caring environment. I can only imagine how proud your parents are of you now.
[...Well, okay, maybe not entirely proud just yet, but they will be someday.]
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...He's never really wondered about that at all. But it does make him smile, just the slightest bit.]
...Thank you. I really do cherish them dearly; it's because of them that I am who I am.
[...He pauses a bit, though. Just from what Hubert felt was necessary to do to his father, Linhardt knows Hubert's relationship with him was likely terrible. He's never mentioned his mother before...but...]
...Her Majesty...she must be like family to you, isn't she?
[He's not sure if he wants to ask, or if he's overstepping his bounds--he does look away after saying that much, but. He supposes he is curious.]
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There isn't an easy way to explain what Lady Edelgard is to him. There are very few in the world who could probably understand their situation, and even then that would require one of them actually talk about it. Normally he would brush it off, but he finds himself talking about it anyway.]
I wouldn't call her family, no. That would be an insult.
[...well, judging from that alone it's probably pretty obvious that his family situation is. not a good one???]
Her Majesty is not someone I could call a friend either. She is entirely too far above me for that. I am her retainer, her supporter, and her ally, but I could never consider her to be something that close. It has nothing to do with our places in the world, but rather the path she cuts. Her Majesty is a leader, and I am nothing more than a guide to ensure her path remains clear.
She is my world.
[It's delivered in such a straightforward manner that it's probably jarring. It's obvious to anyone who has spent more than two minutes around them that Hubert cares deeply for Lady Edelgard, but he usually doesn't put it into words in such a way. His tone carries devotion, respect, and admiration. It wouldn't be wrong to say he loves her, because he certainly does.
...It wouldn't be entirely accurate to say that he's in love with her, though.]
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He doesn't know why that makes him feel some...vague knot in his gut. He doesn't really know what it is, either--the way he speaks of Edelgard, so reverently, it shouldn't surprise him anymore, should it? Hubert is her right hand, her most trusted adviser. It makes sense, considering he would do anything she asks of him.
Why is it bothering him now?
Linhardt's outward expression doesn't change, despite the inner turmoil. He can deal with that tomorrow, if needed...]
I'm glad that you have someone like that. It sounds like she has given you much, and you've given her a lot in kind.
[Mmmmmm don't like how that's making him feel vaguely weird, so let's avoid that--Linhardt winds up yawning just a bit, bringing Nyx closer to him in the process.]
...I should probably get to sleep soon. I should be well rested for the meeting tomorrow, after all.
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Of course. I imagine your trip left you tired.
[Even though he slept on the way here...]
Come with me. Your room is nearby. If you need anything, I'll likely be in here for some time.
[He stands and gestures for Linhardt to follow him before leading him off to one of the bedrooms nearby. It's a nicely-furnished room, the sort of place that's comfortable enough for a military base, though still preferring function over fashion.]
Good night, Linhardt. Try not to oversleep.
[It's a joke, and he smirks as he turns to leave.
Had everything gone according to plan, there would have been a strategy meeting about fortifying the fort's security and the transfer of troops from other regions to bolster security. Losing Fort Merceus would be a devastating blow, and not one Hubert will let happen. If everything had gone as he hoped, the meeting would have been relatively quick and he would have spent the remainder of the day organizing soldiers, handling paperwork and letters to the nobles in the area for their support, and otherwise securing the region.
Things often have a way of falling apart right when they really shouldn't, however. Before the meeting can happen, reports of an attack are circulating and Hubert - operating on less sleep than he would have liked - is already roused and ready to take the front lines himself. It's easier to command when he has an idea of who the enemy is, after all.
And besides, Linhardt is here. It would be unacceptable to put him in harm's way. The enemy must be eliminated, and quickly. Preferably before Linhardt wakes.
Hubert is able to ascertain that the rag-tag army isn't bandits, as reported to him, but rather a group of rebels. They aren't exactly a threat; their numbers are far too low to deal any significant damage and they seem disorganized, as though led by someone without much experience in commanding. Despite their flaws there is one thing very wrong with this situation.
He can't pinpoint their leader. While he's out raining dark spells on the enemy, their leader has already slipped by Hubert's usually exceptional defenses. In his rush to secure the fort and ensure Linhardt's safety, he's completely managed to miss the leader sneaking in.]
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Linhardt had managed to fall asleep quite easily in the fort, despite the feelings churning within him. If this were a better day, he'd likely sleep until Hubert inevitably had to come try to wake him up, due to Linhardt sleeping like a log for the most part. An easily disturbed log, but a log none the less. For most of the fight, he's blissfully asleep, the sounds of battle but an echo in his dream, if even apparent.
That all falls by the wayside the second that the enemy leader manages to find his room, and Linhardt wakes with a horrific start as he barely dodges a lance to his chest by rolling out of bed, undignified and still clutching Nyx until he realizes just who the wielder of said lance is.
He's surprised to find Caspar on the opposing side; they've never fought against one another a day in their lives, after all, and Linhardt does everything he can to try to fend off Caspar with Nosferatu. Caspar's gotten incredibly good at fighting, and even moreso at staying quiet; they both talk while they fight, Linhardt wondering even why this is happening, and he can barely even register Caspar's reasoning. He wants Caspar to stand down, to put his lance down and talk, to be able to convince his friend to join his side so he won't have to kill him--
Caspar gets the upper hand, when the fight is forced into the hallway outside of the room he was staying in. Linhardt trips over his own nightclothes onto the floor, and he's pretty sure he dropped the damn bear at some point because he feels both of his hands go up to try and protect himself when Caspar attempts to land the finishing blow.
It doesn't come.
It doesn't come, because Linhardt casts magic in an attempt to protect himself, and Cutting Gale is an exceedingly potent spell. It's excessive; excessively forceful, excessively windy, excessively against everything that Linhardt stands for, and yet it's only short of Bolganone and Excalibur in terms of his lines of defense against an enemy.
Caspar's sent flying, and there's a sickening crack as he hears his friend hit the wall at a pace that shouldn't even be possible, and Linhardt makes the mistake of opening his eyes to see Caspar's body falling off of the wall, peeling off like old paint. There's, perhaps thankfully, not as much blood as there could be, but it's still there, coming from his head where it hit the wall, and--
Linhardt doesn't know when it became so hard to breathe. He's not sure if he's hallucinating footsteps that are going in the opposite direction--he's not sure if they're friend or foe. He's not registering anything except the sight of his friend's dead body on the ground, and it's clutching his chest and crushing him alive with shock.
What has he just done?]
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A lone intruder can't do much damage, but when the soldier finishes the report by saying that the man was spotted heading in the direction of the war room... Well, Hubert's thoughts probably aren't where they should be. One man cannot take down a fort, no matter how powerful, and waltzing into the enemy's stronghold would only mean his death. His priorities should be on fending off the remaining rebels, but it isn't. There's only one thing he can focus on.
Linhardt.
Hubert is by no means the quickest fighter, and certainly not the sort to go sprinting across the battlefield for any reason when he could just use long range attacks, but he quickly gives orders to the others and takes off back toward the war room. His heart pounds in his throat the entire time and all he can do is hope that he's not too late.
Stupid, stupid, stupid; how could he make a mistake like this?
He doesn't arrive in time to see Caspar hit the wall, he only arrives after all is said and done. He recognizes the blue hair - how could he not? - but he doesn't care that Caspar's dead. He would have gladly killed his former classmate himself if he'd been presented the opportunity. No, he's more worried about...]
...Linhardt.
[He doesn't sound as out of breath as he actually is, and he's quick to close the rest of the way between them, standing between Linhardt and Caspar's body. It isn't a particularly gruesome sight, but given the scene, he's got a good guess what happened.]
Are you hurt? Can you stand?
[They aren't comforting words, but they're questions he needs answered so he can figure out how to proceed from here.]
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He did this. He killed Caspar. He took his friend's life, and there's no escaping from that, and the scent of blood, and everything about war that makes his skin crawl--
Linhardt winds up standing and shaking his head, after a solid amount of time has passed; a likely concerning amount to Hubert. His gaze doesn't leave Caspar's body, and words...well, words aren't happening right now. His whole body is shaking something fierce, but the worst Linhardt looks is roughed up some.]
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Caspar lies dead, and there is nothing that can be done for him now. Whatever happened that led to this, it ended in Caspar dying and that is something Linhardt will never be able to forgive himself for - assuming he's even able to process it to begin with.
He can't say he understands, but he knows enough to know that Linhardt can't be here right now.]
Come with me.
[It's an order, firm and resolute. He doesn't wait for Linhardt to respond, instead he grips the other man's shoulder firmly. He'll turn Linhardt around and pull him close. That hand doesn't move from Linhardt's shoulder as he marches them both forward and away from Caspar's body. It doesn't matter where they go, they just need to be as far away from here - and the battle - as they can get.
There aren't any words. He doesn't have any that could comfort Linhardt and he's not sure the other man is registering much right now anyway.
Hubert brings them to a stop once they've reached one of the fort's towers. This one is empty right now, and the thick stones muffle any sounds of a clash still ongoing outside. They won't be found here for awhile yet, and he can deal with the reports and finishing off the rest of the rebels then. They should all be killed, not routed, but he can't focus on that right now. He can't deal with the things that probably should be his top priority, because Linhardt is...
Well, Linhardt isn't doing much of anything, is he?
Hubert doesn't let go of his shoulder, or try to move away. It's nothing so intimate as a hug, but it's close proximity and for now that's the best he can offer.
Now if only he could keep his hands from shaking.]
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That's all Linhardt can register, really, is that he's moving. He's moving away from the body (Caspar's body), and his mind is playing through every version of the scenario in his head as they walk, replaying the moments again and again, every single thing Linhardt tried to say to get Caspar to stand down and put his lance down, everything that lead up to that sickening crack and the realization that he just murdered his friend in cold blood.
He doesn't even know why they're in the tower when his vision starts to blur, and he comes...well, not back into reality; not yet, at least. It takes a solid several minutes for Linhardt's eyes to not be so wide, practically unseeing, before his expression settles into that weird, unreadable calm that is more concerning than anything, usually. His eyes seem almost...dead, in a way they're usually not; dulled significantly, and looking like they're gazing a thousand miles away.]
...Caspar's dead. He's gone.
[Linhardt's tone is calm, free of any hitches of breath or wavering. It's perhaps unsettling to see, or perhaps a prelude of what's to come as he feels his vision start to blur again, his eyes beginning to shine with a telltale sign that he's about to break.]
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No, someone who can help.
He doesn't have the luxury of that now, and even if he did, he couldn't bear the thought of leaving Linhardt with anyone else right now.]
Yes, he is.
[That's not comforting or helpful. But he sees no reason to shield Linhardt from the truth either.]
Linhardt, what happened was... [necessary] ...an accident. Do you understand?
[It isn't your fault, he wants to say. You did what you had to. Neither of those are helpful.
He never should have had to fight Caspar. He never should have gotten in, or found Linhardt, or forced him into this situation to begin with. He could have killed Linhardt. This shouldn't have happened, he should have never let this happen...
But just as before, the apology he needs to deliver doesn't come. His grip tightens on Linhardt's shoulder.]
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Linhardt gotten so used to the idea of killing others if it was necessary. He'd made his peace with that, with the knowledge that he'd be killing others, but that it would be worth it when the empire's dream came into fruition.
He didn't realize that he never mentally prepared himself for the thought of killing his friends.]
...No. It wasn't an accident.
[There are those calm, even words again. Linhardt blinks and his vision unblurs ever so slightly as a tear falls down his cheek.]
Caspar had gotten into the room where I was sleeping. I don't know how he got in, but he had managed it. It was by luck alone that I avoided him driving a lance into me while I slept.
[...]
I tried to talk to him. I tried to convince him to lay down his weapon. To talk to him and try to get him to back down, so this didn't have to come to bloodshed.
It was the first time we had ever fought. I had hoped he would listen to me.
I tripped. I fell backwards onto the floor, and he intended to finish me off then and there. I raised my hands to defend myself, and...
[...Well, he doesn't have to go much further than that, does he? Honestly, he doesn't even clearly remember the situation, and it's...actually kind of terrifying to him, that one second Caspar was there, and then the next, he was peeling off the wall.
The tears are coming down even harder as Linhardt's gaze goes down to his shaking hands, and he's...never felt this lost before in his life.]
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It doesn't matter what it is, and without really thinking about it, Hubert moves.
He pulls Linhardt close, holding him tightly.]
You did what you had to do to defend yourself. I know that's of no comfort now, but you're still alive.
[The words are soft, almost barely audible.]
I'm afraid I've never been any good at this, and I doubt there's anything I can say that would comfort you now. But I will be right here, for as long as you need me.
[Nothing in the world could tear him away now.]
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[Linhardt isn't honestly sure what to think at first; one second he's staring at his hands, and the next second he feels like he's being pressed into something (something warm, he notes), and it takes a few seconds to properly react, the soft noise escaping Linhardt as he tries to properly understand what just happened.
And...why he feels warm? And almost safe, in a sense, but...
There isn't much of a response for a few moments, but Linhardt's gaze goes up to Hubert when he speaks, and he doesn't know when he started to turn himself a bit in Hubert's grasp, enough so that he could bury his face in the man's chest, but soon he's clinging to Hubert for dear life and Hubert can start to feel Linhardt shuddering.
He doesn't sob. He doesn't bawl, or cry out, or do anything other than cling to the man, his breathing shallow and labored as the tears come down practically as a stream. This is awful, all of this is awful and it's finally hitting him in all of the worst ways and he hates this--]
You're here. You're...here. That's... [Goddess above, his words are shaky, but he's trying.] That's...enough. For me. It always has been.
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Well, there wasn't anything after that. So it's a little strange, but not unwelcome. What's important right now is that he's here for Linhardt.]
I am, and I won't leave. You're safe with me. I will protect you, no matter what.
[It isn't a promise he can make, and they both know it. Were it necessary to send Linhardt to the front lines for Her Majesty to succeed, he would. No, it goes beyond that. Were it necessary to sacrifice Linhardt - or to kill him personally - Hubert would. He absolutely would.
The thought makes him feel sick.
That doesn't matter now, though. Right now, he's here, and Linhardt's here, and nothing in the world is going to come between them. He's safe, he's fine, he's still alive.
His grip tightens.]
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Between that, and the thoughts swirling in his head about the consequences of his actions--House Hevring's relations with House Bergliez are going to become more strained, if not fall apart. Hubert probably has to tell her about this incident, and he doesn't look forward to trying to explain all of this to her. Nor his parents, or anyone who asks, really. It hurts, all of it hurts.
Linhardt does everything he can to try to be less tense, to let himself sink into Hubert's warm, protective grasp. He feels so safe and sound; at least here in his arms, nothing will come between them. No soldiers, no rebels, no red haired nobles with an inability to have any tact--]
Don't you dare leave me behind.
[Linhardt knows he can't order Hubert around, and that fate isn't as easy to order as either of them think, but...
He needs this, right now.]
...I can't lose you, Hubert. I want to be strong enough to protect you, too...I know I must become that strong. But...please...
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[That is somehow even less of a promise he can keep. If it were up to him, he'd lock Linhardt away somewhere no one could hurt him, somewhere he wouldn't have to see the fighting or the injuries and death in the aftermath. He'd be safe and secure and he could have all day to research or nap or do whatever he wanted.
But it isn't up to Hubert, and Linhardt is very useful. His Faith magic will undoubtedly prove indispensable on the battlefield, and yet the very idea of putting Linhardt in the middle of that sends chills down his spine.
He's so close to sorting this all out. He has the last piece of the puzzle - he's had it for some time now - all he needs to do is put it into place and he'll understand everything there is to about his relationship with Linhardt.
But just like every time before, he refuses. Now isn't the time.]
You will not lose me. Nothing in this world could stop me from helping fulfill Her Majesty's ambitions. I will not die on you, I promise.
[That's also something he can't promise, and they both know it. But he feels more confident in giving that answer. Battles are unpredictable, but he's usually an excellent tactician with exceptionally dangerous long range magic. He should be fine. There shouldn't be any reason to worry.]
I don't ever want you to have to see battle. I don't need you to be my shield, I need you to be safe.
[Is that admitting too much? He shouldn't bring his personal feelings into this, should he?]
I don't know where I'd be without you, Linhardt.
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It's leaving Linhardt surprisingly vulnerable, if he wasn't already; he's so used to being able to pinpoint these sort of things. He's been used to hypotheses, being able to see where point A meets point B and so forth, and yet the strange thoughts and feelings that churn through him--it's too much. All of it's slowly becoming too much for him, and Linhardt clings just a bit tighter and shudders. Everything's just too much, and his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. He's not sure if Hubert can hear it, but...
Linhardt finally moves his head a bit, and he looks up at Hubert after finally falling...well, somewhat still, the shaking not abating entirely. His eyes are still a little dull and unfocused, and his face is red from crying in earnest for the first time in years.]
I...don't know where I would be without you either, Hubert. The thought of such a thing...it scares me. I don't even want to think about how facing this without you would be. You've become someone indispensable to me.
[...His head winds up going back down, attempting to rest against Hubert in a way that allows one of his ears to lay against his chest. It's strange to seek it out, he's sure, but he's trying to hear Hubert's heart. If he can't, he can't though, and he'll move his head out of the way.]
It's...why I want us to be able to create this world that Her Majesty seeks. I want us to be able visit one another, without the need to prepare for battle; perhaps to read together, or perhaps to fish...or even work together to bring prosperity...
[He sounds like he's starting to doze off, regardless of where his head lies. He's so tired after all of these emotions. He wants them all to quiet down, to run away for a little while longer from this, even if he knows it isn't feasible.
There's something in his tone when he speaks again; it's not quite determination, but...it sounds like there's something there. The kindling of a small fire.]
...I have to face this, Hubert. I know I do, in order to help you both bring about that future. [...] I...I want to. Even if I don't know how.
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But Linhardt chose them - chose him - and here they are now. Even though it's difficult, and even though he's terrified of losing Linhardt, he wouldn't have it any other way.]
...I'm proud of you.
[Praise isn't exactly uncommon from Hubert - at least not to those who have earned it - but it's not often he phrases it like this.]
You've become so focused and so strong. You've already been through far too much, and yet you still stand firm with us.
You don't have to know exactly what to do. That's my job. Yours is to support us, to handle the things Her Majesty and I cannot. I have difficulty imagining how this war would be going were you not here for us.
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It's amazing what four little words can do to him--warmth floods his face, and it reddens further than what his crying had done to him. It's almost embarrassing, but those words of praise...they mean so much to him, since he knows Hubert is so honest. It makes him happy--enough to shudder, just a bit, before easing and closing his eyes in contentment.]
...Thank you. It means the world to me to hear you say that...to hear that my efforts haven't been for naught. If it means that this world will be beautiful, when this is all over...I'll do whatever it takes. I'll support you both however I can--however you both wish me too.
[His words are almost reverent in nature; how could they not, at this point? He's never been one to dedicate himself to anything that didn't earn his interest or his passion, and it's safe to say that this cause has earned both.
It takes a couple of minutes, for Linhardt to speak once he's said that much; the next words are a lot more drowsy, as if he's starting to drift off.]
...You truly are so incredibly warm...
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[He's absolutely convinced of that. It's good to hear Linhardt is too. He's always known that Linhardt will follow what passion consumes him, it's just good to see he's put it toward something so useful.
He shifts a little at Linhardt's words, his hands finding Linhardt's lower back to support him in case he does end up drifting off.]
I am human, you know. I'm not quite sure what else you were expecting.
[It's gentle, and Linhardt can likely hear the laughter in the words. It's certainly never bothered him before.]
Go ahead and rest. I'll be here for you when you wake.
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it seems after all of this time, hubert finally fucking won out, that's it, that's their a supportOh, that feels nice...Linhardt allows himself to lean a little more against Hubert, in that case, as he doe what he can to fall asleep. To think months ago, that Hubert recoiled so harshly when he had done it unintentionally...Linhardt kind of finally sees why his subconscious self wanted to doze off against Hubert. For a man who carves a blood red path, he's a wonderful pillow.]
I wasn't expecting you to be so comfortable...it's very nice...
[Sleep addles his voice a bit as sleep finds him; there's some mumbled words before he falls asleep, very soft, but...]
It feels...rather like home...
[...And perhaps to his credit, Linhardt doesn't stir at all while he sleeps. He's far too comfortable to.]
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