#heavydraw

[princeofopenness]

[FASHION POLICE] Everyone here looks like they've put so much effort into their outfits. Which makes sense, truly-- this was THE social event of the year, from her understanding, and the students certainly wanted to make good impressions with or without their dates. Even the faculty enjoyed making a splash, with several of her colleagues dressed up in the gaudiest ensembles that she's seen in a long time... and that's saying something, considering she's forced to work with nobles on the regular. There's one that stands out in particular, though. The gold is absolutely blinding, and though the outfit itself looks nice enough... the guy's gotta be sweating in that. "Hey. Sorry, I haven't caught your name, but... Surely that's uncomfortable?" Shamir gives him a once-over, gaze trailing from his feet to his head. "Maybe I'm biased. I'm not a big fan of the beach." "I'm Shamir. One of the Knights. Technically, I'm here as staff, but I'm stealing the moments that I can. There's nothing of importance happening." Yet, she neglects to say. It's only a matter of time until a fight breaks out, or someone goes and drowns in the ocean. "C'mon. Get out of that cloak. You're going to burn to death."

The presence of his father's cloak and the warmth it provided had become something Alfonse scarcely even paid attention to after how long he'd been wearing it. He was already well accustomed to wearing clothing that was perhaps a bit too warm for the climate. He scarcely wore anything less than his full battle regalia most places he went, if only because being prepared for a fight was often a necessity regardless of the reason for which he was traveling. Once his father passed, Alfonse's regular cape had (eventually) been permanently replaced by the fine fur cloak Gustav had always worn, something to always remind Alfonse of the expectations he needed to meet.

Alfonse's eyebrows raised at Shamir's greeting. He knew who she was, of course. He knew exactly how she felt about the beach as well, though he would prefer not to have to explain why he knew that. Really, bringing that up at all would just lead them down a conversational path that Alfonse did not particularly wish to tread. "Oh yes, I've seen you in a bikini many times before" was not a particularly good way to begin a conversation with someone who didn't know anything about you.

"Ah, I-- it's really not that bad," Alfonse sighed, fingers idly stroking the soft fur of the cloak, his bangle for the ball jingling softly with its turtle charm. "It's my father's, actually. I'll... spare you the details of what it means to me-- what he meant to me. That's really not a good first impression to make, is it? Suffice to say that it's rather important to me... but also that, er, this attire was not designed with the beach in mind. Formal parties, yes, but not for one so..."

Alfonse sighed, casting his gaze at the scenery around them. The salty sea air and ocean spray were likely going to be nothing but terrible for the fine fabrics his clothing was made of. The stiffness of his outfit certainly didn't suit a more laid-back setting like the beach, either. At least he wasn't going to be required to swim. He couldn't imagine that being anything but a miserable experience with the outfit he had on. Good thing nothing bad was going to happen that would force him to do that! Say, why did the clouds on the horizon look so foreboding?

"...Wet. I also wasn't aware I was going to have to wear this little charm, either. If I'd known, I'd probably have tried to coordinate colors with the charm and my outfit... but I suppose us not knowing about them was intentional, wasn't it? ...Sorry, I got a bit distracted there. Alfonse. Pr-- er, just Alfonse right now, I suppose. I am also a member of the Knights of Seiros, actually, though obviously we've not had the privilege of working together as of yet."

[failnaughted]

If she had a nickel for every time she'd been in a near death situation with Claude von Riegan, she'd have two. Which isn't a lot, but it's really weird that it's happened twice. This time, however, it's somehow.... worse. Carrying Claude back to the bunker had certainly been an interesting feat to accomplish, and ensuring that his treatment went swimmingly had been its own type of stress-- but knowing the emotional toll that these events would take on a majority of their group was different. He's harder to read than most, she's come to find; but there's certain tells of his that give his thoughts away. To a degree, anyways. The man is smart-- he knows to conceal just enough to keep himself safe. Shamir leans against the nearest wall, a tired sigh escaping her. Her entire body aches, her muscles burn, and she wants nothing more than to sink into a nice, warm, soft bed. "Is this how you felt before I dragged you to the infirmary?" She mumbled, only the slightest hint of amusement laced in her tone. It's barely there, masked by the sheer exhaustion that encompasses her. "Maybe it's your turn to carry me, then."

Whoa, someone suddenly looks a lot less valiant than normal.

In all honesty, Claude's first reaction is that of uncertainty as to how to feel about it. On the one hand, in a way, it's almost reassuring, in some sick and twisted way, to find out that she is in fact human like the rest of them and will also run out of energy and get tired, instead of simply moving on once the rest of them have croaked.

(What prompted thoughts like that? Best not to ask.)

On the other though, it's unsettling, because if Shamir of all people has had enough, then it's gotta be bad.

Still, he tries to keep up at least a semblance of a high spirit.

"Well, I was out cold. Whether that was a good or a bad thing for me, I leave for you and the witnesses to judge," he offers with his usual playfulness, or at least some of it. He wouldn't want her thinking he's making light of her exhaustion, after all. He's not that rude.

"Hah, perhaps I could, though as a warning, it probably won't be any more comfortable than it was the other way around. Still - if you do need help, let me know. I've got some bandages and whatnot on me."

[failnaughted]

Fatigue has settled into every inch of her body by the time she carries Claude back to the bunker with the assistance of the others; her shoulders droop, her eyes appear dull and sunken, and her hair is disheveled in the absolute worst ways possible-- and despite her desire to fall on the floor and take the world's longest nap, she perseveres through the exhaustion. At the first opportunity given to her, Shamir takes a seat near the edge of Claude's bedside; she doesn't have much to say about the entire debacle that they've all experienced, and she's never been talented at breaking the ice. But that's always where Claude has excelled, he can make even the coldest of hearts feel warm and welcomed. A dry chuckle escapes the mercenary as she gives him a quick once-over, wholeheartedly thankful for the fact that they're both alive and sitting here in the same room. "... You've certainly looked better, von Riegan."

What in the [Almyran profanity] was that.

That's really the main thing that comes to Claude in the first stage of being, apparently and allegedly, alive, awake and back in the bunker where it all began.

Still, when he hears the mercenary's voice, a quiet laugh comes out of him nonetheless as his tired but still forever sharp eyes respond to her scrutiny of him in kind, and he aptly picks up all the signs that stand to prove she went through the same mess as he did, and frankly came out of it only a little better off.

"That makes two of us, my good lady."

Oh well. There's more important matters at hand than that.

"I've been told you were the one who lugged me outta there. Thanks for that. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, and I mean that in multiple ways."

With a sigh, he adjusts his position a little. "Get yourself taken care of if you need it, too, okay? I mean - I'm in no position to be giving you orders, obviously, but y'know. From one hell survivor to another."

A light wince distorts his features. "Especially since I've heard people whispering of getting back out there soon."