#claude support

[verseandrhyme]

what’s done cannot be undone

@boundlesshart​ | cont

Her name echoes in a hundred voices and just one simultaneously. Mitama flinches before her head shoots up to see (FatherShiroMotherCaeldori) Claude running towards her.

Her breath stops in her throat, trapped behind her heart.

A million lifetimes (he kisses her in chocolate he kills her in the snow he fails her she fails him) a million possibilities and she is expected to know which one comes charging at her down the field as she thinks, thinks, all she can do is think and watch her own unknown memories pass her by.

“Claude...” It’s quiet, weak, uncertain. She was supposed to tell him about the catacombs, not ask him if she had poisoned him (she had poisoned people she had poisoned people she knew and done it gleefully her stomach lurches again.)

His hand touches her arm. The shrine maiden sobs. (She can’t remember the last time. Her deeprealm maybe, but was that her memory or the other her, the one who kills Anakos or the one who wakes him she doesn’t know.)

Forehead meets chest as Mitama shakes. She clings to Claude ( a soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?) wordlessly. 

(Classmatefriendloveenemyrivalcompanion she’s so stupid to have thought any of that mattered.)

“I didn’t..” mean it? (Yes you did.) “I don’t...” Who am I who am I there’s so many Mitamas who was she now.

Her grip tightens. (What, will these hands ne'er be clean?) “I’m sorry.”

[verseandrhyme]

❰❰ BED ❱❱ ( Maybe in the cabin in faerghus... claude hates the cold and sleeping in new places. tho whatever is fine :0 )

no Hurt only Soft

"Stop squirming." Her voice is flat with the weight of exhaustion as her words travel across the nape of his neck.

Claude is fidgety, at best. It's clear he's struggling. Mitama is no stranger to another's company while sleeping. She has napped on nearly all her friends during the war, to differing degrees of success. This is no different.

(Except it's very different because it's Claude and it's the first new face to grace her sleeping hours she can think of in years and she tucks that thought away with a quiet noise to ponder on later.)

His hair tickles her face and she sighs softly, curling closer to his back, arm draped low over his stomach. He smells like a tea the monastery stocks, the one with pines...it's nice. She mumbles wordlessly and if her nose bumping his neck causes the spine pressed to her front to stiffen, then she can ignore it. She's ignored enough of his movement as is.

"I can let you suffer the cold outside." A sleepy smile matches softly slurred words as her eyes open and scan the room past his form. He requested the bed in the corner, facing the door, his back to the wall. Mitama had not minded. Seeing nothing of concern, her eyes drift closed again and she lets out a slow sigh as she sinks into the comfort once more.

"Just try to relax, Fearless." Fingers trace a lazy pattern against the skin of his stomach. "Your lion killer will protect you if need be."

[verseandrhyme]

there’s knocking at the gate

@boundlesshart

“Finding the rhythm / and remaining peaceful / are needed to...Ugh, no, the meter is off once more!”

The weather continues its miserable onslaught on the student body unfortunate enough to have been sent away from their warm monastery beds. Mitama personally does not see why students should be venturing out to complete a church’s investigations when there are far many others more capable than them among their knighthood to whom the job should rightly fall...but it was her house’s turn, and her arguments had been given an absent audience.

While frustrating, this trial would have been far more manageable, even with the cold, if not for the...unsettling aura that permeated the area. Like a fly buzzing in one’s ear that would not be chased away. The constant sound had soured Mitama’s already unpleasant temper, leaving the shrine maiden more irritable than usual.

“Best efforts to...no, that’s wrong again.” Mitama let out a frustrated groan tossing her notepad off to the side. Useless. Miserable. She wished this duke would just confess to whatever he was suspected of so she could leave.

Grumbling to herself, Mitama stood, despite the protest her limbs gave. Their fire was dying...Mitama glared at it for a moment before, in a fit of pure, unfiltered frustration, let loose a quick blast of Seraphim at the remains of their logs, watching with disinterest as the flames sparked and jumped and sputtered at the sudden assault.

[verseandrhyme]

It's time. Claude approaches Mitama as the music swells to life again. One, two, three too many turns of his wrist as he bows to her. "May I trouble you for a dance, milady?" he asks, voice dripping with mirth as he draws out each and every syllable of that last word. "Doth– snrk, doth thou–" Claude had something else to say, but it's quickly forgotten as he loses himself in laughter, holding his stomach.

When he pulls himself together again, it's with an easy smile and a hand offered. "Let me try again. Honestly, this time. I'd like one dance, if you can spare it."

Mitama stares at him. She takes the time to quietly process exactly what he had said to her. And then she stares a bit longer.

And then she starts laughing.

It’s sudden, powerful, and she instinctively reaches out to hold onto his arm as she buckles over, laughing at the absolute absurdity. Claude of all people...well, he never certainly failed to impress and amuse.

“Y-you...you sound horrible!” She manages, hiding her grin behind her hand. Claude is in his own fit of laughter at his antics, and so she does not feel as bad being so blunt. “It does not suit you at all...you sound like Lorenz, please do not make me suffer two of him!” 

She manages, slowly, to reel her laughter back in an acceptable amount. There is still the occasional giggle, causing her frame to jump in the way a hiccup does, but she manages to straighten up and smooth out her dress and smile politely as she meets Claude’s expression.

“I suppose for the deer’s fearless leader, I can find the time to spare a dance.” She takes his hand in one and her skirt in the other as she nods her head towards the dancefloor. “Though I warn you; I’m not one for the noble form. Or any form, really. I am not a good dancer.”

[verseandrhyme]

♨️ (goddess-respecting swimwear edition): "Mitama! Look what I found in the storage room!" It takes a second for Claude to figure out how to turn on his new toy from the storage room, but when he does, it whirrs to life. He gently sets it into the water: a mechanical frog that swims in the water on its own. "Neat, huh? Bet this makes up for all the frogs hibernating out there."

Fleeting Snow

Mitama continues to run her fingers through her hair as she watches Claude, frowning curiously at whatever it is he’s fiddling with. While he is occupied, her eyes scan his face, giving the injuries another look over. They are faded, thankfully, and whatever damage may have done does not appear to have been far too permanent...he is incredibly lucky for that.

The sound of gears turning catches Mitama’s attention and her eyes jump back to spot something moving about in the water. It takes a moment to identify it as a frog, and another to identify it as a mechanical one.

Mitama gasps, a sound of pure delight, and slides closer to Claude and his discovery as it bops around in the water. “Uncl- The ninjas of Hoshido use similar creations at war. Karakuri.” She holds a hand out as the frog bops closer to her. It collides with the tips of her fingers and struggles a moment before righting itself and continuing on its way. Mitama’s laughter echoes against the surrounding rocks.

“This seems far more amusing than any such creations I have seen thus far...and far more pleasing to look at.” She falls silent a moment before looking to Claude. The grin on her face now is a touch less innocent. “Did you spy any more in storage? Surely the...count, was it? Surely he will not miss the one...”

[verseandrhyme]

interlude: the antidote

@boundlesshart

Naturally Claude takes the antidote. There’s no reason to hesitate. Survive at all costs had been the mantra he grew up with. He had hopes and dreams, and he never questioned the idea that he was the only one that could see them through. He could have the world as his ally. In the end, though, what matters is keeping himself alive, and his dreams with him.

The antidote still sits in his hand, unopened. Claude blinks in dull surprise–why hasn’t he drink it yet? Poison crawls under his skin, hot waves of nausea wash over him, and still he hesitates. What is he waiting for? Drink it! Drink it!

“Drink it.” Claude’s instincts scream at him as he pushes the antidote bottle into Mitama’s hands instead. “Out of all of us, you need to stay in good shape. Like it or not, I’m relying on you to keep me alive. We all are.”

Claude gets the antidote first. Mitama could laugh at the fact.

It made sense, of course. Nobles and their burdens of leadership were far more important than those who moved under them. Though even without that bitterness in the back of her throat, the shrine maiden in Mitama saw the logic at Claude taking the antidote prior to her. He was suffering doubly. Mitama was not fine to march on without it, but at least she had the abilities to soothe her struggle.

Perhaps they could make a retainer of  her yet. Father would balk at the thought.

Forcing herself upright, Mitama nodded in thanks to Eir’s departing form as she trailed off after the others. She would likely be slow. She wondered if she could goad one of the others into carrying her until their next encounter.

Or perhaps the antidote would be pushed into her hand with an order.

Surprise was plain as she turned to face Claude. Perhaps the amount of surprise she felt was cruel when compared to the deed. Claude did not look pleased about his actions, though that could be dismissed as his response to his own pains.

It was likely harsh to deem the act out of character. It did not change the lack of sense Mitama found in it. By all means, when one looked at the order of things, Claude’s life held far more of a priority than her own ever would. She had seen little disregard for that established order in Fodlan. It was something she was far more accustomed to at home, among the ranks during the war, when nobility was shed in the name of comradery or...

or when her friends worried over one another, without thought of order or propriety or...

...fuck. She had been so sure she’d run out of energy to spare for new friends.

“Thank you.” She manages the response before drinking the antidote as she’d been ordered. The time for self-reflection could wait until later. “I will make every effort to not disappoint you.”

[verseandrhyme]

🏰 "It's like this, right?" Claude's dreams of a grand sand palace live on in his improvised sand yurt as he carefully pushes little pearlescent shell pieces into the sand, forming a tiled path towards the ocean. He cries out as a wave crashes onto shore, reaching forward and carrying away a couple of shell pieces. Ugh! "I thought we were safe here.... General Mitama, what are our defensive options?"

Like most good things in nature, the...castle? Structure that she had stumbled upon her house leader making was gone far quicker than it was made, washed away by the ever moving tides. She hums a soft note as she watches it happen, shells dragged along by the pull to the home from whence they arose.

The question snaps her from quiet contemplation to absolute befuddlement as she faces her fellow student again. “...against the ocean? You wish for strategies to use in a war against the ocean? Are you a fool?”

Clearly he is, but Mitama would be a far richer woman if she had coin for each fool she found herself sliding into the company of. She sighs, patiently, and taps a finger from the hand supporting her head against her cheek. “My sincerest suggestion would be to move your building efforts farther from the waves that will ravish them. There are no walls you can build to defeat them, lest you fetch a stronger material than that which is at your disposal.” Really, why was she roped into this?

She grabs at one of the scattered shells and places it atop the remaining pile of what was once a notable creation. A grave to the fallen. Mitama snorts in amusement. “Do not most attacks like this end in war? Am I to see you take your bow to the ocean and challenge it to the death? It would be hard to explain to the other deer that you drowned for a sand creation.”

[verseandrhyme]

[ Lift ] Claude leans into Mitama's ear, "I want to try something." As they waltz, his hands drift down to firmly grip her waist. Then, as they spin, he lifts Mitama into the air, holding her as he twirls about. When Claude lets her down, he's beaming with pride. "Pretty strong, eh?" he brags, flexing one of his arms.

"Hmm?" Claude's cheek brushes some strands of Mitama's hair as he leans in to whisper. His voice is soft and low against her ear and it is only through years of practice with her friends walking on eggshells around her sleeping form that the quiet proximity does not send shivers down her spine.

His hands move low to Mitama's surprise. With no hand to longer hold, her free hand joins the other upon his shoulders as she frowns at him curiously. What is he-

Abruptly, he lifts her and twirls. Mitama squeals in surprise, throwing her arms around him and clinging tighter to him. Her face flushes bright with surprise and just as quickly, he sets her back down. His face is bright and radiant with pride and Mitama, slowly, smiles back at him as well.

"Very strong." She agrees with a gentle laugh. One of her hands slides down to his bicep to give the flexed muscle an appreciative squeeze. "Doing all your fellow archers proud, I imagine." Moving her hand slowly along his arm, she guides his hand back to her waist again. "A little warning next time, will you?"